As fully signed-up members of the ambulance-chasing wing of PR, we're about to pump new promotional life into the corpse of a great British tradition.
All hail The Marmalade Initiative, the first and almost certainly last generic campaign to bolster the fortunes of the much-detested orangey breakfast spread.
Quite how something invented to stop pallid Dundonians getting scurvy should have supposedly attained 'national treasure' status is anyone's guess.
Anyhow, the sugary citrus slop is on its last legs, so stand by for a slew of P&F-inspired stories highlighting its miraculous qualities (cancer cure, effective against MRSA, chokes bankers, you get the drift). All it requires is the marmalade makers of Britain, historically stingy and marketing-inept to a man (and manly woman), to step up to the (breakfast) plate with an open chequebook. This may be where Karoline (with a K)'s plan falters.
More forthcoming with the cash is the hair loss industry, instantly on the back foot following the news in the Daily Mail that a diet of cockles turns baldies bushy again.
Given that a jar of Parson's rubbery delicacies is about a fifth of the price of a 10-minute course of minoxidil, they need to stamp this nonsense out fast. Before you can say Shane Warne, we appeal to the green sentiments of the folically challenged and launch a Boycott The Bivalves campaign under the pretence of a bold new marine conservation focus.
Back at the breakfast table, research carried out by Munich University's Volker Schusdziarra overturns nutritional wisdom by proclaiming that a hearty breakfast only encourages you to eat more during the day. This bombshell is dropped during National Obesity Week, an event so appropriately bloated it runs for 14 days.
More from this column
All hail The Marmalade Initiative, the first and almost certainly last generic campaign to bolster the fortunes of the much-detested orangey breakfast spread.
Quite how something invented to stop pallid Dundonians getting scurvy should have supposedly attained 'national treasure' status is anyone's guess.
Anyhow, the sugary citrus slop is on its last legs, so stand by for a slew of P&F-inspired stories highlighting its miraculous qualities (cancer cure, effective against MRSA, chokes bankers, you get the drift). All it requires is the marmalade makers of Britain, historically stingy and marketing-inept to a man (and manly woman), to step up to the (breakfast) plate with an open chequebook. This may be where Karoline (with a K)'s plan falters.
More forthcoming with the cash is the hair loss industry, instantly on the back foot following the news in the Daily Mail that a diet of cockles turns baldies bushy again.
Given that a jar of Parson's rubbery delicacies is about a fifth of the price of a 10-minute course of minoxidil, they need to stamp this nonsense out fast. Before you can say Shane Warne, we appeal to the green sentiments of the folically challenged and launch a Boycott The Bivalves campaign under the pretence of a bold new marine conservation focus.
Back at the breakfast table, research carried out by Munich University's Volker Schusdziarra overturns nutritional wisdom by proclaiming that a hearty breakfast only encourages you to eat more during the day. This bombshell is dropped during National Obesity Week, an event so appropriately bloated it runs for 14 days.
More from this column
No comments yet