I've been ill. And when a man's ill, he expects a helping hand from his favoured over-the-counter cold remendies. However, this time, it was not the case, and it made me cross.
Dear LemsipThere, I feel better already.
Congratulations on your superb paracetamol-and-citrus-fruit based cold remedy, which has served me well in recent bouts of man-flu, girl-flu and real-flu.
HOWEVER, I must draw your attention to the deeply unpleasant experience I encountered at the hands of your products.
Finding myself laid low with a genuine case of the real-flu, I sent my charming wife down to the local shops on a quest for a packet of your finest Lemsip cure-all, for there is nothing like the taste of hot, zesty lemon to make to feel at least ten per cent alive when you are coughing your eyeballs out.
But, I am sad to report that you have given women a choice. A choice of poncy flavours, and as any man will tell you, when given a choice of poncy flavours, a woman WILL buy poncy flavours.
That is why I found myself lying on my sofa forced to choose between Lemsip Blackcurrant flavour (reminiscent of an ill-advised dare involving a Frenchman's jockstrap on a rugby tour) and Lemsip (and I quote) "Wild Berry and Hot Orange". I tried it, and I dare say it's a taste that attracts the likes of Wayne Rooney to grab-a-grany nights, but it made me vow - the moment I was well enough - to service my chainsaw to a level that would allow me to hunt down and punish those responsible for this BLASPHEMY.
Although you and your brand are part of what the tin-foil-helmets call "Big Pharma", happily scraping us and our minor ailments (and life-threatening shit like man-flu) for every penny we have, you are clearly over-stepping the mark with the addition of your Lemsip Ponce range. If I wanted my ineffective cold remedies to taste like cat's piss, I'd grab one of our local Mad Cat Woman's scabby creatures, squeeze it like a set of bagpipes and drink whatever comes out. AND ENJOY IT.
STOP IT, YOU TWATS.
Albert O'Balsam, Weymouth