Wednesday, May 24, 2006


I have fallen into the advertising trap. I am shamed beyond belief. I bought a new state of the mouth toothbrush. It not only cleans my teeth but it massages the gums stimulating the circulation and making my whole mouth a glistening cave of good dental health.

I decided to indulge after I ran out of my 95c 'made by loving hands' chinese toothbrushes that have bristles so hard that wearing them down to the nub takes months.

This super dooper colgate has bristles inside rubber prongs and is a pretty colour. I don't know what I expected but it certainly wasn't like putting a live octopus in my mouth. The rubber prongs have a mind of their own, getting in the way of tongue and teeth and they move like tentacles and they don't massage and the bristles don't reach to clean. Sod advertising.


Lord Sedgwick said...

"Something in the way they move

Attracts me like no other toothbrush

Something in the way it woos me

I don't want to leave it now

You know I believe and how."

You silly goose, indeed extremely foie gras.

(Did the tentacles move for you too?)

Andrew said...

Is it electric?

JahTeh said...

Pretty posh Pav at the party, Your G'norship. Bloody toothbrush, can't even clean ma boots with it.

Andrew, I believe you're thinking of something slightly more south of mouth.

Lord Sedgwick said...

That bloody posh pav! You wouldn't believe the amount of trouble it caused us!

Yer average native pavlova is all but impossible to catch. Had a dozen of me best retainers and angels on horseback chasing them all over the estate. Just when they thought they had a clear shot at the little buggers, they'd dive into the undergrowth or a burrow. Buggered recoil injured shoulder and no cigar!

Had to send down the ferrets to winkle the bastards out. Old Ned Farnuckle lost one of his remaining five arms trying to put them in his sawn-off, semi-automatic macrame gunnysack.

Don't want to even talk about how difficult your average lesser spotted, semi-articulated pavlova is to skin, and if'n that's not enough, then you have to beat the bejesus out it like you would for your leatheriest of cast iron abalones.

D'ya reckon they stay still for you while you drizzle the passionfruit and blue heaven flavouring over them?! Not on your frigging peach Nellie Melba!

(Tasted good but, thanks to the culinary skills and patience of the vice-regal trouble and strife. Everyone assumed it tasted good, not that anyone but Brownie knew how good it tasted on account of her eating the whole lot in one fowl swoop. I blame her chickens!)

Needless to say it's bowls of junket, Farax and Carnation milk strawberry jelly whip for the 70th ... with a cod liver oil daiquiri chaser.

JahTeh said...

I see you went to foreign climes for the cheese platter too. I have little cameras all over the vice regal pad. It's for my new business venture. "Hello sailor, want to buy feelthy postcards of a full frontal geriatric?"