Jaw Wars: The 2026 Chewy Sweet Decathlon and Our Entirely Unofficial Medal Table
Photo: michael ely, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Britain has never needed much of an excuse to turn sweets into a competition. Give us a kitchen table, a stopwatch and a bag of fruit chews, and someone will start drawing up a league table. So here at Maoam we present Jaw Wars: a 2026 chew-off with events, points and medals that carry absolutely no official weight. We tested a representative field of British chewy sweets — fruit chews, wine gums, jelly babies, fruit pastilles, cola bottles and midget gems — across five categories. Nobody swallowed anything on a dare. Mostly.
The events, and why our jaws filed a complaint
Chew length measured how long each sweet kept us busy before it surrendered. Flavour stamina judged whether the taste lasted beyond the first enthusiastic minute. Jaw fatigue scored the effort required, with 10 meaning a sweet that makes you rethink your life choices. Pocketability asked whether it survives a coat pocket without becoming a single laminated brick. Car journey tested the real-world scenario: back seat, sunshine, siblings and a parent who has said the phrase ‘we are nearly there’ at least four times.
Each sweet scored out of 10 in each event, giving a total out of 50. It is less science than a school sports day, but considerably more fun than most dental appointments.
Fruit chews: the headline act
Fruit chews arrived with a reputation: bright, bold and slightly dangerous to dental work. Their chew length is the headline act — these are sweets that do not so much dissolve as negotiate. The flavour stamina is strong, especially the citrus end of the range, and jaw fatigue is pleasantly high without tipping into regret. They also travel well, provided you do not leave them on a sunny car seat. Pocketability is good, though they can attract fluff like a small woollen magnet.
They feel like the sweet equivalent of a middle-distance runner: not the fastest, not the flashiest, but annoyingly hard to beat.
Wine gums: the civil servant of sweets
Wine gums are firm, unbothered and faintly medicinal in the best possible way. They do not melt; they negotiate. Their chew length is admirable, and their flavour stamina has a curious second wind — the black ones, in particular, seem to keep going long after you have stopped paying attention. Jaw fatigue is moderate to high, depending on the vintage of the bag. Pocketability is excellent, although a handful left in a glovebox will eventually fuse into a single wine gum monolith.
They are not exciting, exactly. They are dependable. In a family car journey, that counts for a lot.
Jelly babies: the soft-power problem
Jelly babies are lovely. They are also, from a chew-off perspective, a bit of a cheat. Their chew length is short, their jaw fatigue is low and their flavour stamina disappears faster than a crisp packet at a sleepover. What they lack in endurance they make up for in charm, and their pocketability is decent until they get warm and start sticking to everything, including each other.
In the car journey event they performed well with younger testers, largely because they require no commitment. They are the sweet you can eat while also arguing about the radio.
The medal table
| Sweet | Chew length | Flavour stamina | Jaw fatigue (10 = toughest) | Pocketability | Car journey | Total | Medal |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Fruit chews | 9 | 8 | 8 | 7 | 8 | 40 | Gold |
| Wine gums | 8 | 8 | 7 | 8 | 7 | 38 | Silver |
| Fruit pastilles | 7 | 7 | 6 | 8 | 6 | 34 | Bronze |
| Midget gems | 5 | 6 | 4 | 9 | 7 | 31 | Highly commended |
| Cola bottles | 6 | 6 | 5 | 4 | 5 | 26 | Spirit of the Games |
| Jelly babies | 4 | 5 | 3 | 6 | 4 | 22 | Best supporting snack |
Pocketability: the unsung event
Pocketability is where the quiet heroes emerge. Midget gems are tiny, rattly and almost impossible to lose, which makes them excellent contraband. Wine gums hold their shape with the grim determination of a bus timetable. Fruit chews are dependable but collect lint. Cola bottles are delicious and completely the wrong shape for a pocket, unless you enjoy sitting down at an angle.
Jelly babies, meanwhile, are a pocket risk. Leave one in a school blazer for an afternoon and it becomes a small, sad cushion.
Car journey: the family stress test
The car journey event separates the robust from the dramatic. Fruit chews held up well, even after being wedged between a water bottle and a map book. Wine gums survived with dignity. Fruit pastilles did better than expected, largely because their sugar coating forms a protective jacket. Midget gems rattled around the cup holder like tiny hailstones, which delighted one tester and irritated everybody else.
Cola bottles were a disaster in a warm car. They went soft, then sticky, then strangely philosophical. Jelly babies were eaten before the car left the driveway, so their score is based on enthusiasm rather than endurance.
The closing ceremony
Gold goes to fruit chews, for combining serious chew length with enough flavour stamina to keep a back seat quiet for several miles. Silver goes to wine gums, the sweet that refuses to be rushed. Bronze goes to fruit pastilles, which brought sugar-coated resilience and a useful pocket-friendly shape.
Jelly babies receive the Spirit of the Games award for sheer likeability, while cola bottles take home the prize for Most Likely to Melt in a Cup Holder. No dentists were consulted. No jaws were permanently damaged. And the medal table remains entirely unofficial, which is exactly how we like it.
