TOILET PAPER

This is a delicate matter. It is not a topic for humour. Toilet paper is serious stuff.

Over the years this household of ours has hunted high and low for an acceptable quality of toilet paper. We have gone through thick and thin in our quest. We’ve taken the rough with the smooth. Eventually we discovered Andrex ‘Quilts’ and this product seemed set to give us long term satisfaction. A brand of toilet paper is not just for Christmas, it is for life. So we were very happy.

I was the one that discovered an odd side effect of using this product. For some time, days, even weeks, I had noticed tiny flecks of a white substance on the carpet of the loo – not many because the room is hoovered regularly but within a day or so after cleaning one would be aware of the white flecks. Acute observation revealed the culprit to be the toilet paper that is known as ‘Quilts’. As each sheet is torn from the mother roll a tiny piece of paper seems to explode from the perforation and gently floats to earth. This is not noticed at first but repetition of the tearing off process produces an effect not dissimilar to a light covering of snow. I imagine that if one did not hoover the carpet regularly one could easily find oneself up to one’s ankles in the stuff. I suggested that perhaps we should eschew the tearing off of sheets and employ scissors but then realised that there would then always be the risk that one might make the cut between the perforations and so create the sort of pranky ‘joke’ toilet paper that might well have been sold in those shops of yore that sold ‘whoopee’ cushions and fake (thank Heavens) dog excrement. So ‘Quilts’ is, or are, out.

We are currently employing, on a trial basis, Andrex ‘Puppy’ which allows one to collect ‘Puppy Points’ and they, the packing states, will enable us to ‘splash out (unfortunate choice of words) on all sorts of brilliant treats to really spoil yourself’. Ignoring the split infinitive I can go on to tell you that the brilliant treats include ‘active days out, free cinema tickets, adorable puppy items and – can they be serious? – family meals out. I can see all too well the effect this form of aggressive marketing could have on a family. ‘Look, if everyone in the family uses the loo three times a day we could be enjoying Sunday lunch at the Harvester in 2015 – so get in there and do your duty Gerald!’.

All you have to do, and I mean you not me, is visit http://www.andrexpuppypoints.com/, sign up on line, enter your Puppy Points code that is printed on the inside of the 9 roll pack, select your treat – there are hundreds to choose from! And then enjoy your treat.

Look, you can do this. It’s a gift from me. You visit the site and use my Puppy Points code. It is YJ17MXN84L; it is ‘security printed’ inside the plastic bag and it is so cleverly done that you can’t read it from the outside!

As Andrex approaches its unachievable goal of persuading people to go to the loo more often and then when there, one supposes, use more paper than circumstances dictate it seems to be driven to extremes of branding and this is no more clearly demonstrated than by the range of products it offers. We have already covered ‘Quilts’ and ‘Puppies’. In addition you will find: Shea Butter Toilet Paper, Longer Lasting White Toilet Paper, Natural Pebble Toilet Paper, Pink Blossom Toilet Paper and Toilet Paper with Aloe Vera and … wait for it … Vitamin E.

I’m sure that your mind, like mine, is boggling over what these brand names suggest; I mean, how do you make a longer lasting toilet paper? – it’s surely a one-use product unless the economic situation deteriorates quite severely. And Shea Butter? Whatever that is. Natural pebble? I won’t go on, it’s just too sad.

My, but you can tell when a company has just taken on a new marketing manager can’t you?

IS IT AN AGE THING?

I suppose most men slowly develop a Victor Meldrew side to their personality. It’s happening to me. I don’t like the way things are going in this country. For example:

Where I live the local authority distributes one of those ‘free’ newspapers, those puff publications that are putting real local newspapers out of business. In its Out and About listings it tells me that the chairman of the council is presenting a concert by an all female brass band called Boobs and Brass. How charming.

Looking in a glossy regional magazine I read of a product that will help the most driest hair.

A notice in a local car-park: Skateboarding or other similar activities are prohibited. Yes I know it almost looks right – but it ain’t. That’s a local council notice by the way. It has been there for many years and, come on Mr Meldrew admit it … you haven’t seen much skateboarding going on in that car-park. Or similar activities come to think of it. Speak Greek to the Greeks.

Another notice on the wall of a supermarket, no more than a few yards from the above, refers to shopping trolleys that are solely for the use of customers with children and requests us to Please observe this facility. I think they might suggest a period of time. I just give up after a few seconds, my mind starts to wander.

Don’t go on Victor. Your being tedious.

GOB SMACKED - AS IT WERE

Oh Dear, one of the last resources of the long-suffering traveller is on its way to being stamped out. A large notice may be seen on Platform 2 of Peterborough Station. It says:

Our staff have the right to work in a safe environment without fear of intimidation, abuse or assault.

We have a zero tolerance policy on physical or verbal abuse against any member of staff and always press for the maximum penalty to be brought.

Our staff carry spit kits so they can submit spittle for DNA testing. We do not hesitate to prosecute anyone who spits at our staff.

I feel my mind boggling at the reactions this statement produces in me. One is curiousity: how big is the kit? How big must the spit sample be? Does loud speech with concomitant spray after a few pints constitute a spittle attack? In the case of a few elderly people I have known does their soft speech accompanied by a sort of venturi effect constitute an attack? Amongst the staff is the device called the ‘spit kit’? (I’ll bet it is). What is the difference between spit and spittle? (The notice implies that there is).

What of when the spit sample has been analysed and the DNA profile established? I’ll tell you. It only has value if the DNA can be matched up with someone who is known to the police and of whose criminal history a record is kept. So the protection offered by this scheme is effectively restricted to the victims of spitters with form. Or the spitters who are apprehended and taken into custody at the time of the spitting – in which case the DNA doesn’t add to the evidence; all you need is the spit.

And then a certain irritation develops in me. What should the staff of Peterborough railway station be so uniquely protected? What about all the other people who face the public? What about bar staff? What about bar customers – I’ve had a few douches in my time from barmen. Do we need a campaign along the lines of ‘FREE SPIT KITS FOR ALL’. Perhaps the Liberal Democrats should include this in their manifesto.

I think there’s a bit of money to be made here in the business of DNA testing for spat upon people. (Memo: see what’s available in the stock market – something for the ISA perhaps?).

I think the notice is provocative. It may even make angry people consider urination as an alternative form of protest. Imagine the notice they’d have to put up then!

Still, you’ve gotta laugh encha?

A CONTRIBUTION FROM MY MOTHER

Lillian Margaret Diggle, born 18 August 1914 - died 5 March 1994, was a real Gloucestershire girl with the robust, positively vulgar, sense of humour and sayings, deriving as they did from her early life, that take us back to the 19th century. Here are two of my favourites ...

On reaching the end of a heavy meal ...

The Lord be praised
Moi belly be raised
One inch above the table.
But oi'll be damned
If I oi ain't crammed
As much as oi be able.

On being amused by something you've said ...

Thee's make oi laugh
Thee's make oi cry
Thee's make oi pee myself

HERNIA - NOT MUCH TO LAUGH ABOUT BUT HERE'S AN ATTEMPT

As I drive Northwards out of London on the way home I pass the British Hernia Centre in Hendon. Imagine one's delight if on calling there a notice was found hanging from the doorknob, 'Just popped out for lunch'.

A SUGGESTION FOR ANNUITY PROVIDERS

In my moonlighting career as a business consultant I have developed a service for annuity providers. You know what happens. You are ageing. You hand over lots of cash to one to one of these insurance companies and they pay you a very small sum every month and then you die and they do quite well out of it. The problem is, as one such provider told me, 'The buggers go on living. Our actuaries are actually having to sweat a bit these days. Lifespan is increasing faster than we can do the sums'. My solution is to set up a company called 'Retirement Reward'. When someone takes out an annuity and hands over, say, half a million (for which he might get a mere £20,000 a year which will be taxed ) Retirement Reward will start to send them gifts. The gift parcels might include, say, 200 cigarettes a week or a box of cigars and a booklet called 'Inhale and Live Life to the Full!'. A case of whiskey every fortnight. Tokens to provide free meals at McDonalds. A set of Jeffrey Archer stories. A gross box of Viagra. And so on. My own actuarial calculations tell me that an annuity provider could by spending 2% of the amount received on Retirement Reward parcels knock something like 5 years off the life of a retiree. That's £10,000 spent on our half a million quid annuitant and £100,000 saved on annuity payouts. How clever is that?