Great And Not So Great People

Around about the year 1862, Pierre Lallement began a magnificent legacy by coming up with a great and simple invention: the bicycle. Around about one hundred and forty seven years later his idiot descendant son Jacques returned to that legacy by leaning too far out on the road during an Alpine stage of the Tour de France and knocking race leader Alberto Contador off his bike, costing him the race in the process. Pierre turned in his grave. Jacques didn’t learn a thing.

Mother - Heaps of Energy

Some time ago, I got a free can of Mother, a 500ml energy drink produced & distributed by none other than Coca-Cola Amatil itself. Since I’ve had it I’ve had no desire whatsoever to drink it, but I decided to a little research on the nutritional information and, low and behold, it turns out that it contains just 10% more energy than the orange juice in my fridge. Of course, it also contains hefty doses of caffeine and sugar to set the heart racing but I’m no dietician and I’ve no idea how to technically measure that.

So the attraction is that it’s fizzy and tasty in a tangy, energetic kind of way, so you can down it (the whole 500ml can) with relish, unlike half a litre of orange juice which, thinking about it, would probably be a tough enough ordeal and leave your face grimacing and your stomach squirming. Then the drink sets your heart rate spiralling upward and your brain starts whizzing.

Now, as an occasional Buckfast drinker, I can appreciate the adrenaline buzz, but this product is prominent in every supermarket and store in Sydney, up there with your regular Coke, Sprite etc. making it a popular drink with the general consumer. So given that there are health concerns about a 250ml can of Red Bull, how can people in their right minds want to double the dose with this stuff for the sake of an energy pick up? I mean, the way I see it, if a cup of coffee can’t pick you up, it’s not because you’re heart rate is too low. If you’re that short on energy, you need sleep. As an occasional quick-fix it may be worth the health consequences, but to rely on it to keep you alert or energetic is madness.

Ok, ok, I know, the people who drink it don’t give a shit about the health concerns. But take a look at he product labelling. The death metal style font hints of violence. The black and red colour give me the idea of drinking petrol. Across the top is the slogan “Warning Heaps of Energy”. The whole thing says to me, drink this if you want to slaughter pigs with a hatchet.

And the following two warnings are printed on the can:

“If you need a MOTHER of an energy hit, you need MOTHER. It delivers double the hit**, in a big black can.
So now when a mate turns up with a wussy-sized can, you can raise your MOTHER up and proudly say ‘did yours come with a man bag’.
**Compared to a standard 250ml energy drink.”


“Warning! High caffeine content… Ok, we know that’s why you’re drinking it but our lame legal guys made us warn you not to feed this to kids, up the duff women or the weak who just can’t tolerate it.”

Intensity, extremity, excess. Drink more, take more, have more. Be faster, stronger, louder. Have you got the balls? Yes you do. You do. Yes. Don’t you? Yes you do...mate!

How far can it go?

Day Two and I'm Gaspin'

Day two of induction and it is clear that my life has taken a new direction. As I sit in the meeting room around a table with my fellow trainees and course trainer, going through the erroneous and fraudulent details on documents that I am to spend my time combing through, I realise that once I have spent enough time doing such diligent work, I will have the ability to deviously create such false documents that I can submit them to obtain huge funds and fraudulently but securely pass them through the whole system.

Yes, as I sit there, nodding in agreement at my tutor, focusing and forming questions, wide eyed and holding off the sleepiness, a concept deep in my sub-consciousness slowly emerges and I realise that I am destined to piece together the perfect crime that will see me amass a fortune overnight at the expense of this grand organisation and disappear calmly into oblivion leaving nothing but a trace of deception. Deft as a vixen yet ruthless as a wild dog.

I will live out my days as a clandestine in the exotic provinces of Southern Brazil with a lady companion who will not be my wife but a mere companion who will be addicted to my mischievous and cunning nature. I will feel forever youthful being aware of the fact that I have criminally taken my wealth from a fortress of systems and security. I will smugly grow old in the knowledge that I have refuted the conventions of the people around me, the people close to me. And in the end, all they will have received from me is mystery and wonder. Oh what a legacy.

That and I kinda wanna go back on the fags.

Is it me or is this ridiculous?

Budget, love, budget!

I Long For A Pint

“Lovely day for a Guinness” thought the bird to himself, as he sat perched atop the wind vane, looking down over the village on this crisp morning. “Ah yes,” he thought, “a good pint of the black stuff will put big red feathers on my hefty chest”.

Worst Piece of Advertising

Maybe there is some merit in this ad, what would I know? OK, they are getting at the 500 is at the complete opposite end of the spectrum to the Hummer, two extreme products. But my first two reactions to this were:

1. Is that slogan supposed to be funny? Because it’s not. In fact it’s a very very lame joke. If it’s not supposed to be funny, then it doesn’t describe the product, or inspire you about the product.
   
2. They have gone and plastered the name of a different product on the poster.
   

I just think the whole thing is so vague – “only different” and “very Italian”. It should be to the point, and specific about the product.

Philious Phogg on the positives and negatives of his new job

Sad Face, Happy Face - The Contrasting Moods of Philious Phogg

Congratulations on the new job Phogg, you must be quite happy.

Yay!

But it’s in processing mortgage applications, pretty mundane stuff.

Boo!

Then again it’s pretty respectable and reliable work and you won’t be returning to Ireland with its economic strife and employment drought.

Yay!

But you miss that place don’t you.

Boo!

Then again you can now afford to go out more than once a week. Plus you’re getting an hourly rate and overtime so when the long hours come along you’ll see the cash rolling in.

Yay!

But this stuff is way off what you want to get into.

Boo!

Then again these are hard times and beggars can’t be choosers.

Ya…no wait…Boo!

Although it’s large organisation with a household name, something that’ll look good on the CV right?

Yay!

But you’ll be stuck at a desk all day studying data on screens. And under time pressure too. All of you’re concentration will be used up by this same process, day after day, so that your brain will be sapped of creativity and wit, even come the weekend. You know how it feels Phogg, you’ve had all of this before. Only before, there was an ocean of diversity to your work compared to this stuff. You’ll be the proverbial number in the organisation, with your responsibilities according to company policy. You’ll be restricted to act only in accordance with procedure, with no room for judgement, opinion or criticism. For god’s sake you’ll barely even be communicating with people.

Boo!

Then again whatever way you look at it, it’s a professional job and there’s a bit of respectability in that. I mean you’ll be wearing a suit, acting in a somewhat professional manner and at least have some status to your name.

Yay!

But there’ll be no more craic on the bike. No more freedom to act as you wish. No more being all over the city in a day. No more bumping into people at any time. No more enjoying all the influence of the streets and the people. Your fitness will waste away. Your clear head and freshness will suffer. The creative side of your brain may go dormant.

Boo!

But now you won’t be working for bastards who enjoy such a dominant position in the industry that they can afford to abuse their power over their contractors. And besides, one can’t be a bike courier for ever.

Yay!

But such is the nature of the commercial rat race, you won’t exactly be getting pampered here.

Boo!

Well look, at least you don’t have to deal with those poxy recruitment agents for the time being.

YAY! (Rapturous applause)