Scallywag

Seven days without laughter makes one weak.

~ Mort Walker ~

You’ve Only Got One Life To Live

May 7th, 2012 ~ Est. reading time: 1 min, 41 secs

Now remember, you've only got one life to live.

Gawping like a country hick, I stumbled into a big Melbourne discount store. Right in front of me were giant thighs, head high. The ad selling lingerie declared, “Because you only have one life to live.” Then I smiled to myself. “That’s not true. If I wore women’s underwear, surely I’d be living a double life!”

Reaching for something momentous to sell knickers and bras seems a bit over the top. But it got me curious about what other nonsense advertising was around in this vast shopping shed. Perhaps there were other “only one life to live” or similar promotions to keep me entertained.

Apart from the American TV soap, One Life to Live, and Clairol’s punchline for hair bleaching concoctions, I couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe a promotion for insurance, perhaps? “You only have one life to live so pay for your grave now” or something like that. But I was taken aback to see the one life to live appeal on a serving spoon (guess if you missed using it you really have missed out on life).

Given we only have one life and we don’t have many big shopping sheds in Hobart, Ruth and I visited one on the mainland. Here we found a trove of advertising oddities. Huge drums of Chinese cooking oil audaciously called Lucky You, and dirty little cartons of Mr Gross’s Sampler. I didn’t dare discover what he had sampled. But there was so much more junk to boggle the senses that I forgot about the gross samples and became even more thankful that I’ve only got one life to live.

Surely no Italian would say squisito” to Wartburster’s Melt in Your Mouth Cookies.  But then, that’s probably less distressing than spying piles of Goldfish brand toilet rolls. The thought of it all floating amidst slow-moving goldfish put me off my lunch and got me thinking about what everyone’s one life to live does to the world.

Yet, with only one life to live of our own and shopping to do, we eventually trundled our trolley out crammed with the last drum of cooking oil, wartbursting cookies, goldfish choking toilet paper, cotton buds, gross samples, and much more besides. Going out, an old lady stopped, looked at our trolley, and muttered as she went inside. “Guess what she said,” Ruth chimed: “Lucky you.”

 

 

 

Feegs

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