THERE is a man on the seafront who will make you a stick of Brighton rock that tastes like freshly-cut grass.

Or fish and chips, gin and tonic, or cannabis, for that matter.

Colin Burt and his family have been selling Brighton’s famous confectionary for 45 years.

“We can do anything here” he said. “Where’d you want to start?”

The shelves of the World Famous Brighton Rock Shop are groaning with strange flavours... violet, Jagerbomb, Marmite, creme egg, scrumpy cider, lemon meringue, Prosecco.

There’s even a “blood and gore flavour” Game of Thrones stick.

Some are all too accurate. Mojito is refreshing, but from a rainbow-coloured swirl of sucrose, Marmite comes as a slap around the jowls. “Ganja” is worryingly herbaceous. Fish and chips is horribly on point: it’s a synaesthetic nightmare.

As well as wacky flavours, you can get a whole Scrabble-set of inscriptions tunnelled into the rock.

There are names and football teams, but customers can also opt for “Suck on this”, “hot lips”, “horny devil”, “sex maniac”, and “old slapper”.

“Knobhead” is out of stock after a popular week.

There’s a giant stick, the 18-inch “big one”, as well as Brighton rock dildos and confectionary vaginas, “wobbling willies” and “pussy galores”. The shelves are crammed with surprises.

But Colin’s family once concocted the weirdest stick of all.

Colin said: “About 20 years back, my dad had a peculiar commission from a London artist. They were putting on a show where everything had to be unexpected. They asked if we could make a bright red stick of rock that tasted like the smell of newly-mown lawn.

“My dad had a word with the factory. It must have been a strange call, but he somehow managed to get hold of the perfect flavour and make up the sticks. I remember when the first batch came in they were beautiful.”

“It’s proof that if you can imagine it, we can make it,” Colin said. Special commissions cost £1.34 a piece for 200 6-inch sticks put together at the shop’s factory in Blackpool.

Rock-making is gripping to watch. Colin showed a 1957 Pathé documentary where the rock is rolled and stretched along a conveyor belt of presses and cold plates before it’s strung from great chains on the ceiling, oozing down on the worktop where it lands, semi-solid, to be thwacked with the back of a palette knife or snipped off with shears into pristine sticks of Brighton rock.

The shifting consistency is bewitching. The sugar and glucose mix moves from a dough of sweet goo to a powdered, syrupy log, and then rods as brittle as tube bulbs.

“It hasn’t moved on much since then”, said Colin. “There have been no real changes in the rock industry. Sure, there are new things every year: on the shelves now we’ve got a rock lolly on a lanyard. But in the end, what people want is a stick of mint rock with the word Brighton running through it.”

World Famous Brighton Rock Shop

55 Kings Road BN11NA

95p per stick for “crazy flavours”, or 5 for £4.