Tuesday, 12 June 2007

Ear wax on the floor?

There’s an ad running on TV at the moment for some sort of whiz-bang mop that cleans up spills in a super-efficient way that involves not getting your hands dirty. It’s being sold by one of those modern-day snake-oil companies that excitedly promise miracles and inevitably deliver disappointment.

I’ve bought a few things from them (you know who they are). One was an electronic thesaurus that didn’t work, which I exchanged, and the new one didn’t work either, so I cut my losses and threw it away. Another was a leaf-trap for the pool which, once installed, gurgled pitifully then drowned – without, obviously, trapping so much as a stray twig. A third was a magnetised exterior window cleaner for upper-storey windows that wasted no time in dropping heavily off its magnet and smashing into bits on the paving below, and I still have no view from my top floor. Yet another was a flame-resistant polish for my car which, for obvious reasons, I have never tested for flame resistance, so the jury’s still out on that one.

Anyway, this ad describes the nasties you can get on your hands if you have an old spaghetti mop rather than this newfangled one. They use the neat trick of a hand-sign translator to demonstrate how ghastly this is – he eventually becomes so sickened by how dirty his hands get using a spaghetti mop that he disappears off-screen, gagging.

The thing that I puzzle over, however, is the list of things that the manufacturer tells us we can get on our hands if we don’t use their hands-off mop.

The list includes ‘ear wax’ and ‘mucus’.

Now, let’s think about this for a moment. Imagine that you lived in a household that, for reasons not yet known to medical science, produced measurable amounts of ear wax. My compound question is: would this ear wax end up on the floor; and if so, how?

And mucus? Let’s assume you had a really bad cold, and were full of the stuff. Would you, cowboy style, spit it out upon the ground? (Speaking for myself, I know that if I did, my mother would wind me enthusiastically about the ear.) And, taking this absolutely ridiculous worst-case scenario as an actual possibility, would you then actually leave it – that glob of mucus – lying there until it came time for someone to do a general mop-up? And, lacking a miracle hands-off mop, perhaps get in on their hands?

(‘Pet urine’ is another on the list. All I can say is that while I am sometimes not bright enough to come in from the rain, I have never mopped up pet urine with a spaghetti mop, because I know, in rinsing out the mop, I will get it on my hands. That’s what they made ultra-absorbent kitchen towel for.)

I’ve watched this ad a few times and I’ve had to come to the conclusion that the copywriter was either having a bit of a laugh at the expense of his/her clients or raving on tik. Either way, I find it mildly astonishing that, prior to flighting, nobody noticed how utterly ridiculous the sales pitch actually was. It’s surely fair to think, after all, that it was viewed by powers-that-be, passed and paid for? (With money that, by the way, ultimately comes from us, the consumers.)

And, in the light of this, if you go ahead and buy this wiz-bang magical mop, and in this way liberate your hands of any nasties that might be lurking about on your home’s substrate, it will serve you utterly right when the stupid thing fragments on your first attempt to tackle that big gobbit of spittle you hoiked onto the dining-room tiling after dinner last night, or that hefty blob of earwax you lobbed over your shoulder this morning.

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1 comment:

angel said...

mwaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaaaaaa... oh that is so gross!!!
as for the window cleaning thingy- the same thing happened to me, and it was the one and only time i bought something from them!