I found myself staring – not for the first time either – with barely contained venom at my toothpaste the other morning, foaming at the mouth and trying not to coat the tiles in a sickly sweet froth of Z-list chemicals, thinking that isn’t it weird how we end up with these horribly mismatched priorities in our everyday lives.
Allow me to explain.
My toothpaste makes me gag. Literally makes me want to throw it up all over the bathroom. Thinking about it now has my throat doing a strangled dubstep beat of dread anticipation at being coated in obnoxiously minty seven-syllable compounds.
And yet, because I have paid £2.50 for said vile concoction, I’m determined to make it last at least several months so as to extract full monetary worth from the fateful purchase. I simply can’t bring myself to throw away a perfectly reasonable anything just because it makes me want to puke.
And this is the extreme hypocrisy that sits anxiously inside my mind – I was perfectly happy to hand over £12 for a three-bite greasy hamburger in foil and a paper cup the other week, or £2 for the privilege of someone passing hot water over some seeds they’d just had posted from Nicaragua or some such to an overlit service station on the M40. I pay £6 every month to watch television, but on my laptop instead.
If all that doesn’t make me gag, nothing else should.
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