I am now torn as to whether I want the accountant to stumble on a thriller plot with cocaine disguised as cocoa beans and a breathless chase through very evocative countryside or more of a gay Eva Ibbotson, in which the accountant will end up falling for the put-upon but fundamentally decent chocolatier who is in danger of losing his business to some horrible corporation who plan on draining all the profits (and fun) from the assorted ensemble of shop staff.