“Working like a machine? Have a break. Have a Kit-Kat.”

In the shadows of a trade worth up to $80 billion per year lurks an industry notoriously shy of scrutiny. As we gorge upon our favourite luxurious treat, we don’t spare a thought for those involved in its production. A cloak of hideous secrecy tucks exploitation away, safe from ubiquitous discovery. The reality is harrowing: beneath the rich, luscious surface of our sweet delight resides a clandestine dystopia filled to the brim with the veiled stench of child labour. As helpless mothers mourn for their kidnapped sons in Burkina Faso, we shove chocolate bar after chocolate bar down our throats. There is something poignant about the fact that those who make our chocolate never get to taste the product they slave so desperately over, not to mention that they aren’t even paid and undergo dangerous manual labour with machetes and blades. It beggars belief that this injustice manages to skate …