I’ve learnt things this week. Four things. The first and second things are of no particular interest, but I’ll save you the anxiety by telling you that the initial revelation was learning that ‘Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo, buffalo Buffalo buffalo’ is a grammatically correct sentence (despite what Professor Red Squiggly Line thinks). The second bombshell was discovering that even though the serving suggestion clearly says you can make a toastie using a can of Heinz spaghetti, it is neither delicious nor convenient to make. I’ll tell you the fourth thing later.
The third thing I learnt was that companies will occasionally pay money to a blog writer in return for a ‘sponsored post’. It’s a cunning form of advertising and rest assured, dear readers, that I would never dare compromise my artistic integrity by pimping myself out to the highest bidder. Such behaviour is the custom of the lower life, street corner degenerates. A man of my honesty and pride would never succumb to such depravity whilst the BSE infected English blood still pumped through my veins. Even if a respectable, universally acclaimed company such as [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY HERE] were to offer me one bottle of their finest, eighteen year old, single malt [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY HERE], I would hold my head high and firmly decline.
My opinions cannot be swayed or bought with common bribery, even if the prize was the smooth, malted taste of a product so fine as [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY HERE]. Sure, it would be difficult to say no at first, but my conscience would eventually prevail and I would tell the handsome, sophisticated owners of [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY HERE] where they could shove their brilliantly complex and diverse range of scotch whiskey. I wouldn’t even consider the delicate distilling process, the intricate blend of flavours, or the diligence and mastery of [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY HERE]’s unrivalled team of world-class brewers. To me, some things are more important than sipping [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY HERE], allowing the intricacies of the whiskey to dance across my tastebuds, providing insight into the eighteen year old lifeline of one of the world’s finest alcoholic beverages in a way that [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY'S CLOSEST RIVAL HERE] could never even hope to emulate.
To think some people would sink to such lows is as sickening as the taste of [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY'S CLOSEST RIVAL HERE]. But fear not, Dear Readers, for I am a man with scruples, a man you can trust. Sure, I am imperfect as indeed we all are and although my weaknesses are few beside the perpetual desire for [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY HERE], my decency is sufficient to deflect the temptations of such corporate tyranny.
So worry not, my friends. Freely come and go, safe and secure in the knowledge that all that you read is unaffected by lustful, shameless greed. These pages are untainted by the economy of treachery. I promise that my pen will not ever discreetly misguide your mind for selfish gain.
So that’s the third thing I learnt this week.
The fourth thing I learnt is that [YOUR SCOTCH COMPANY’S CEO] has an immensely large penis. That’s what I heard from a hot, teen girl. She said ‘He goes off like a frog in a sock’, whatever that means. But that’s just hearsay.