I’ll have mine with extra cheese

So I’ve been working fiendishly on this catalogue for the past few days. It has been busy, but a hoot. I have always wondered about the type of person who writes those things: technical specs are always written by The Comic Book Guy but fatter (‘it is a limited edition LXXTV76TCU gadget designed only with the serious gamer in mind’), Priceline catalogues by the boss’ teenage daughter (‘Wow!! Great Fashion colours! Wow!!’) and the Dimmeys/Forges catalogue by Dipper himself (‘CHECK OUT THESE GROUSE BARGAINS GET INTO IT’).

Today I have entered the hallowed halls of such Literary Giants. As always, it was educational. I started off in high spirits with such textbook effusions:

“Coordinate your breakfast with this designer duo.” (toaster and kettle)
“Luxuriate in splendour” (towels)

A few hours later, I got a bit crafty with it:
“You’ll always have Paris with this instant collection” (French films)

Then the rhetorical question:
Why play one game when you can play five?
A Moaster? A Toastowave?

Around dinnertime I decided that exclamation marks are on the whole under-rated:
Grr! (fluffy bathrobe)
The king of coolers!
One is the laziest number! (hammock)
All items conform to Australian standards of safety and fun!

Around 10pm it all got a bit strange:
Travel through time! (DVD recorder)

And finally, my personal favourite:
The compact Golf Master clips onto your bag or belt, and like most caddies, is water resistant.

Despite the fact that I consider myself reasonably educated and not bad with a pen, I’m really capable of some extraordinary dross. I made myself delete ‘ooh là là!’ and ‘mamma mia!’ on anything French or Italian-made. I scraped desperately for alternatives to ‘elegant, slim, stylish or versatile’. I assured the humble reader that that it was an item the whole family could enjoy, that it would suit the amateur AND the professional and that wireless gaming would not only guarantee unlimited fun, but set them free.

Such clichés! Why do we love ‘em so much? The other day I wrote that someone ‘flitted about like a firefly’. I HAVE NEVER SEEN A FIREFLY IN MY LIFE. Are we really that brainwashed, and from where does the brainwashing originate? Why do we fall back on ‘em in times of tension? Now it’s all getting a bit stream-of-consciousness. Then we’ll see some old chestnuts fly like hailstones. That’ll rain on my parade…


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