I’d be pretty happy to have 90 per cent of my meals based around sweets. Not even fancy expensive ones – I mean the cheapest, chewiest, most falsely neon coloured sweets available. I’ve loved them since I first accompanied my mum on shopping trips to the supermarket back in those halcyon, sugar-flavoured days. She would allow me and my sisters a pick ‘n’ mix selection from the array of inedible, jaw breaking, sticky, often peculiarly shaped treats.

They were clearly terrible for my teeth and general health since these days I have a mouth that has as much gold and silver in it as a display tray at Elizabeth Duke and I’m pretty short, pale, stumpy and as unfit as Rik Waller before his short stint on Celebrity Fit Club. Thanks, mum.

I suppose sweets are my guilty pleasure given that I have a constant secret stash of them at any time of any day. I have even been known to pretend they are “for the kids” when I’m buying a particularly large load of strawberry bootlaces, foam strawberries, chocolate mice and Tangfastics.

Tell us your fave sweets I hear you cry. Okay, if you insist, here are my top 3 sweets, in a very particular order:

• Giant strawberrys: they are giant, red and green and taste in no way like a strawberry but they are nicer than the biggest and best Sunday roast TV chef favourite Anthony Worral Thomson could ever conjure up. I usually buy these in tens (5 pence each) and chew on them over a double bill of a late 80s/early 90s US sitcom.

• Red rope liquorice: Garth from Wayne’s World inspired me on this one – he is a big fan of the red rope liquorice and even had a red liquorice vending machine thing installed in his car. This one is less juicy than the aforementioned giant strawberry. In fact, they are quite tough and if your teeth were not of a strong disposition I’d say be careful when gnawing on these. Taste wise they are a sort of cherry flavour and are incredibly moreish. Rather conveniently they sell them across the street from my house.

• Haribo fizzy cherries: these delights can be found in bags of Haribo Tangfastics and do genuinely taste like cherries, believe it or not. They seem to be most people’s favourite in the Tangfastics collection, which begs the question: why didn’t they give the cherries their own bag? They’re great if you pop them in your mouth, suck the sugary fizzy stuff and then let the jelly bit sort of disintegrate on your tongue. Delish.

Others that deserve a shout-out are: Jazzies, Gold Bears, coconut mushrooms, strawberry laces, cola cubes and foam shrimps.

Feel free to share your favourite crappy sweet top charts. I would genuinely be quite interested.

I can’t believe there are people out there who turn their noses up at instant coffee. It’s so much more satisfying and less bitter than filter coffee and loads cheaper too. In fact, I find the cheaper the instant coffee, the better a lot of the time. I hate people who refuse to touch instant and look at you like you are a hideous, festering, rat piss-drinking pauper when you offer them some. These are the people who have a ridiculously expensive coffee machine at home, which they spend an hour every morning fiddling with and shovelling what looks like finely powdered faeces into until they end up with an egg cup full of something that tastes like soot. Caustic, gritty, inedible soot. I’m guessing people only make such a pitiful amount of the stuff because that is all they can stomach. In the past, I would naively and politely accept the offer of a cup of this black bile, but not any more. Now, whenever someone offers me some kind of fancy filter coffee, I smugly reply, “Sorry, dear, I only drink instant.”

No, silly, not those hallucinogens that university students experiment with after becoming bored with the inanity of smoking eighteen spliffs every day. I am talking about the mushrooms that you eat. There are so many different types to choose from and they’re all delicious. Button mushrooms, shiitake, oyster mushrooms. I don’t see why there isn’t a mushroom shop on every high street. I could easily imagine an independent chain called The Happy Mushroom. I mean, there are cheese shops everywhere and those places reek of putrefying dog sick.

I don’t think I have ever eaten a bad mushroom. They are the most consistently good food you will find. They also have a perfect texture and are so satisfying to bite into. Add to this, the fact that they are cheap and easy to cook, and you have a baby penis-shaped solution for world student poverty and malnutrition.

You can have mushrooms with pretty much every hot meal. I can’t think of any dish that wouldn’t be improved with a portion of mushrooms on the side. There is so much you can do with them. If you don’t like them plain, there are also lots of options. You can have breaded mushrooms, garlic mushrooms, breaded garlic mushrooms. The list is, erm, quite long. Even those weird vegetarian people can eat them without guilt. Honestly, what is there not to love?

I love hot dogs. Not those posh hot dogs that they serve in Borough Market that are made out of rare winkle-nosed boar indigenous only to the outer ring of the lower Newfoundland forest and cost £3.77 a gramme. Nope. Not even those hot dogs that you get in Clerkenwell after Fabric kicks out that look and taste like they might actually have real animal in them underneath that swarming mass of greasy fried onions and bird shit that seem so appealing at 6 AM after 23 bottle of £5 Stella and three and a half pills. Nope. The kind of hot dogs I love are made with the nastiest, cheapest, pinkest, fakest looking frankfurters you can find. Multipack of Herta’s weiners in some Mighty Wight? Great! How about those jumbo ones you get at the Odeon that have been rotating on the griddle in minimum wage working automaton’s zit splatter for a month? Even better! A whole can of the fuckers out of a no name brand tin from Lidl that costs 21p? The best! I can taste them now. Like warm, water-injected bastardised pig and chicken meat-filled condoms slithering down my throat. Mmmm.