Welcome to the Oral Gratification business. We don’t sell ice cream, we sell smiles. We don’t sell cones and pots, we sell sin. We don’t sell a lifestyle, we sell moments in time. Fleeting, fickle, melting.

When we create a new ice cream we always start with a narrative. What’s it for? What’s the story? Why is it different? Is it challenging? How can we elevate it? Take white chocolate. Very subtle, delicate flavours that we elevated with Horlicks and a cheeky splash of Baileys. Or the Pussywhip cocktail, given an extra kick with some Angostura Bitters.

In most American parlours it is sugar, on sugar on sugar. Here, we cold-fuse mixology, with gastronomy and the gelato master. (He’s like a Jedi Master only cooler and taller.)

Guests ask if you have to be crazy to work at The Icecreamists given  our propensity for experimentation. I tell them that I am allowed out on day release and that I have all the paperwork, but my nurse is with me to ensure I take my medication. For most people there is method in the madness.

At The Icecreamists, madness is our method.

The juxtaposition of ingredients and methodologies is what excites us. OK, breast milk, viagra and absinthe might not be everyone’s flavourite, but it certainly stimulates discussion about ice cream and takes The Icecreamists where no ice cream brand has ever gone before. Who else is stupid enough to produce black cones and nearly burn their store down? Check out some of these latest recipes from our menu of Oral Gratification and don’t forget, God Save The Cream! Matt O’Connor 28/5/11

THE SEX BOMB: A drugs giant blacklisted it. The Sex Pistols tried to ban it. The Mexican authorities impounded it. Gird your loins for our infamous ‘Sex Bomb’ ice cream cocktail – the one ice cream authorities can’t defuse. Benefiting from a weapons upgrade in 2011, this classic Fior di Latte ice cream is blended with natural stimulants (Ginko Bilabo, Arginine, Guarana) and other secret ingredients for blood flow and energy. Scented with a gentle infusion of citrus zest. Topped with a shot of burning La Fee Absinthe administered from a hospital IV drip, for explosive results. Strictly limited to one ice cream per customer.

THE FIREBOMB: Melt into the paradox of the hottest ice cream on earth. More incendiary than an Afghan fuel depot and messier than a BP oil spill, this is the mother of all meltdowns. A blistering infusion of mixed chillis, fresh ginger and lemongrass, offset with the cooling power of freshly-made gelato and served in a martini glass Napalm rimmed with Tabasco and chilli flakes. Finished with a self-immolating shot of home-made flaming chilli vodka. The ultimate ‘slash n’burn’ ice cream apocalypse guaranteed to put hairs on your chest. Then singe them. Brrrr….

THE MOLOTOFFEE COCKTAIL: Rediscover your revolutionary zeal with this inflammatory mix of chilled Crème De Banane Liqueur topped with Dulce De Leche ice cream & insulated under a pillow of soft meringue. Blow-torched at your table and flamed with an atomised spritzer of overproof rum. A boozy banoffee baked Alaska that’s fluffy on the outside but dangerous on the inside. Growls seductively like a mama grizzly with a natural gas pipeline between her legs.

ESPRESSO YOURSELF BOUTIQUE ICE CREAM: Served from our cabinet. Bring on the hypertension with this eye-popping, vein-throbbing, jaw-dropping, caffeine-fuelled-kick of weapons-grade espresso that will leave patients defiantly bouncing up and down topless on mini-trampolines outside. If you fancy, why not stage your own bunga-bunga party in a cone with two scoops, Berluscony style.

Enjoy x