Dad 46: Further Oddities – Whither Shoe Polish & Make Mine A Double Listerine

 

Whither Shoe Polish?

There was a time, not so long ago, when a man might polish his shoes as assiduously as his car. I happily admit that I was never that type of man, but even I would reach for the Kiwi Polish once a month, maybe as often as once a fortnight, to ensure my shoes didn’t let me down irrevocably (the idea of shoes being used to judge anyone being a very English one suited to a race not keen to look one another in the eye).

Now thanks to ‘Internet Shoes’ I need never bother. They are a strange product ‘Internet Shoes’. You think you are getting a bargain as not only do they seem cheap but they are also on an inevitable 2 for 1 special offer. Then you try and wear them. The Agony. In very short order you have spent more on Scholl’s blister plasters than you would on a new pair of Loakes. The realization dawns that you have been conned and because of the state of your feet you cannot even kick furniture to remove the pain. Grrrrrrr.

And yet over time another realization dawns. These ‘Internet Shoes’ are self-polishing. They have clearly been made with indelible ink and however much furniture you kick they never lose their burnish.

Conclusion on ‘Internet Shoes’: What you lose on Scholl’s in the short term, you gain on Kiwi in the long term

 

Make Mine A Double Listerine.

 I always used to be rather envious of Mediterranean men who on the way to work would pop into a bar for an espresso coffee and a shot of a local brandy before continuing on to confront the hell that is an office. Sharpeners could hardly be more stylish.

Compare and contrast with drearEnglandwhere about the only place which would serve you a coffee and a brandy on your way to work would be a Wetherspoons. And if there is one thing more ruinous to your reputation than being seen by your boss entering a Wetherspoons at 8.55 am it is being seen by your boss exiting a Wetherspoons at 9.05 am.

Now the problem may have been solved by the wonder product that is Listerine. Every morning, in one of those routines that Girl 12 can no longer find funny but pretends to do so to humour me, I go through my Listerine advert impersonation. At the end of the final gargle she will raise eyebrows, shake her head and say ‘you and your Listerine’. Because I am only, at best, a moderate gargler a lot of the Listerine tends to be swallowed – although overwhelmingly minty it does have a nice kick to it.

Bored out of my skull one morning I found myself reading the ingredients label on the side of the bottle and was thrilled to see the word ‘alcohol’ mentioned. Even more bored out of skull later that morning I went on the internet, googled ‘how much alcohol is there in Listerine’, and was amazed, and overjoyed, to discover it was 26.9 per cent proof, which is none too shabby. And whereas being found drinking brandy at 7.30 am can lead to questions being asked, drinking Listerine and thereby dealing with personal hygiene and ‘gum problems’ can only ever be regarded as the action of a responsible and mature human being. Magnificent.