It Is… Pt36

‘Fade to Grey’
‘Fishermen’s Friend’

… meanwhile, grrr, in the got miffed news, I wanted to visit the Fisherman’s Friend factory this week and spread forth their wondrous product. But, by the gnarly knocks of fate this plan fell foul to logistical wranglings, and lo my mission proved forlorn. It didn’t even get off the ground. When I say the factory, I mean The, given this facility is the one and only. The Fisherman’s Friends factory is located in Fleetwood and its arbitrary bent is to supply the whole wide world with these wee pills of intrigue.

Instead, it rained a lot, I was flooded with work. I walked the dog a lot, in the dark, through freezing puddles in my 4×4 off-grid flip flops, and as my toes thawed through the week, it, the week, was quickly devoured by history and by the time it dawned that I’ll never know what happens inside the FF factory, I never knew what happened inside the FF factory. Nor what that indescribable taste is. I like them, many don’t, they’re a Marmite thing. I mean really, what is that taste, and why are they called Fishermen’s Friends, and is it Fisherman or men? So many questions. Even the multi flavoured options have a weird taste with a hint of added normal in say blackcurrant or orange, to disguise their abnormal taste. They stock them all over the world, in the supermarket I used to frequent in Phuket, there they sat at the checkout. Why, who buys them, how did the Thais get into them!? They all come from this solitary factory in Fleetwood, a place so grim and deranged its inhabitants makes that Star Wars bar seem normal for crumbly sake. Why do people like them, I like them, we’re back to the sweets, are they even sweets? They taste awful. What is that tase. Yet so awful, they’re good. A Dick Emery thing maybe. Citrus Wagons man says they’re medicinal and warm the fishermen on a cold salty night. Sort of work through the body like a medicinal brandy. You know, to save you carrying a St. Bernard around your neck out there on that choppy North Sea. They taste terrible, even mimicked as blackcurrant. Rob down the pub said old gay men took them to loosen the sphincter. Like depositary, I ask, no they just swallow them, it relaxes the body apparently. I’ll take the shed and the van and we won’t mention any source Rob (private joke. Not for your eyes). It’s now Saturday, and time has faded into the ether and I suppose we’ll never know much more, other than these sweets not sweets taste weird.

Shall we go to World News…

The Hollywood strike is over, for now. 148 days cost the US economy $5bn, not to mention the roll over effects across the globe, from make up artists to caterers, to seamstresses and bottle makers… bottle makers? Well, it sounded good and I’m sure there are bottle makers somewhere and no doubt they’ve been affected. If you’re a bottle maker and you’ve been hit by the strike, we’d like to hear from you.

In the UK the Tories held their yearly conference amidst variable highly interesting points of non-interest, way too mind-bending political promises for these pages, but one thing stood out was Mark Harper, the transport minister, describing 15-minute cities as ‘sinister’. The notion being our car usage is being clocked and held to ransom, he states, ‘local councils deciding how often you go to the shops’ suggesting, all vehicles clocked in out and out whereby car-usage police could possibly come-a-knocking and soon, you’ve guessed it, Mr Big (Brother) will be sending you an invoice.

Purely for the interesting silly name factory factor, San Fransisco’s current mayor is London Breed and bidding for the ’24 re-election is Daniel Lurie, who is heir to Levis Strauss & Co. London Breed, really, is that even a name. I don’t want to look it up (again) just in case I’m wrong.

In shorts; Thailand have waivered visa requirements for the Chinese because it needs the money/ The Pope and his gang have their yearly conference called a Synod and on the agenda is climate change – tell that to the 15-minute city men… now that would be cool, getting an invoice from the Pope/ The French have the highest in-office attendance in Europe with 3.5 days spent in the office/ and London is currently holding the 67^th British Film Institute Film Festival with 250 films from 92 countries and not one of them is Durban’s Bread… yet!

Till next weak – spelling correct.

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Prim

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