I wrote this in June 2019. It includes a review of flavoured waters and food with back stories. It is wild…no wait – it’s 100% tame and lame, just the way I like it.
I had to work this Bank Holiday which is fine because I have a great attitude. Saturday was my day off and I had planned on painting my bedroom but I met my mum for lunch and didn’t. We drank three different flavours of water in two different cafes. Mate, we got so hydrated it’s not even funny.
I will review them for you now:
1.Rosemary water: no strong rosemary flavoured vibes here. All fur coat and no knickers.
2. Lemon water: a classic. I knew what to expect and it didn’t disappoint. An old friend.
3. Cucumber and mint: well holy Beyoncé Knowles-y! Refreshed? We certainly were. The clear winner on the day. Would 10/10 recommend to a friend.
I can’t take much more of food talking to me. ‘Hi. I’m Bobby the Butter from Freshford.’ OH F*CK OFF BOBBY. ‘Yo. I’m Aine the organic fake coca-cola that people pretend is nice from Ballymote’. P*SS OFF AINE. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy to support Dervla who quit her big job in IT to commit herself full time to making goat milk face-cream. If she wants to print her ‘journey’ all over her packaging, go for it. I love learning that her psoriasis completely cleared up when last summer she accidentally fell into a vat of goats milk on her great-aunts farm. Share your story gurl; push that brand-I support you! But global food corporations trying to be cute and harmless has gone too far Marion.
When big brands first became sentient it was novel and refreshing. Rashers historically, had been extremely shy and didn’t readily give away their back story. These days you can’t shut them up.‘These six, sexy, streaks of bacon were hand cured in a horsebox in Carhirciveen by sisters Chroí and Francis, both of whom have a strong fringes and dozens of stripy tops.’
If air-freshener is not telling us its origin story, it wants to ‘start conversations’ about all manner of shite. Sorry Fabreze but I’m wrecked! And they’re mad about ‘committing’ to 30 day, habit forming ‘challenges’ and embarking on utterly pointless ‘missions’.
Some of the worst brand-as-human horsedung-ery happens when they get themselves a Twitter account. Oven chips have ‘epic bants’ with Duracell batteries and within minutes a news site screengrabs the whole interaction and screams ‘This online spat is giving us liiiiiiiife and we’re so here for it’. Cue everyone losing their minds retweeting and using the emoji with laughing tears face.
I don’t need sausages to be renamed ‘heart disease fat tubes’ but I also don’t need a ten page biography on the life and times of Senan The Pig printed on the box.
This rant has now concluded. Please note, it has been infused with peace and love throughout.
Until next time babies, goodbye.