Fudge Membrane Gas
So The Brother has a thing for the man products. Yes I know I have a thing for them too but mine is the opposite of his. I believe their existence heralds the imminent arrival of the Apocalypse and the coming of The End of Days, when Satan will rise again from the stygian depths of hell and devour the world. He believes they make him lovely.
To this end I give you - Fudge Membrane Gas. Fudge, Membrane, Gas. You put this on your head. Membrane Gas, on your head. You put something called Membrane Gas on your head and it’s made by a company called Fudge. Satan is giggling to himself somewhere and buckling on his favourite matching codpiece and pitchfork set.
Membrane Gas, it sounds like something used in heavy industrial engineering plants or possibly contained within a sealed and inviolable organ of the body, the rupturing of which would cause catastrophic and fatal consequences to all and sundry.
It’s in the bathroom right now, sitting there, waiting. I fear it. What if it ruptures when I am in situ, abluting myself or worse engaged in manly labours. Membrane Gas all over my most intimate personage.
I think I’ll go in the back garden.
August 29th, 2006 at 9:21 pm
Good lord. He puts that on his head? No wonder his hair looks like that.
August 30th, 2006 at 12:27 am
I discovered even he hesitates to spread this paste on his noggin for fear of the consequences. It sets something like concrete and dried Weetabix.
August 30th, 2006 at 2:01 am
Dried weetabix is the worst.
But; membrane gas. The words go wonderfully together, like one of those spam emails that makes it through the filter by luck and a marvellously inventive word combo like anger pigeon or dowse glee. I think that’s what this is — it’s not a hair product at all. Somebody’s advertising fudge (the delicious sweety-treat). They are doing so by recombining words and sticking them on interesting bottles that look like they might contain something.
I bet if you press down on the nozzle, it will just shout “EAT FUDGE!”, collapse into some sort of singularity and fall to the centre of the Earth, where all the best evidence goes to die.
August 30th, 2006 at 2:04 am
HOLD ON — is that an (R) symbol to the upper-right of the word ‘Fudge’?
Some mad fool has registered the word FUDGE as a trademark?
August 30th, 2006 at 2:07 am
From the mad-eyed press release:
“Imagine the freedom of driving down the highway on a Harley and not worrying about your hair!”
Yes. Yes, imagine. If you were going at ‘100 clicks’, whatever sort of measure of speed that is, I’d hope you were wearing a helmet. People shouldn’t entrust their malleable mind-organ to the protection of ‘membrane gas’.
August 30th, 2006 at 2:18 pm
Dried Weetabix is like Satans super glue.
Possibly the membrane gas forms a temporary cushion of fudgel around the head protecting it from damage. Its a pity they own the word fudge now. I liked fudge. That sentence probably cost me €100 euroclicks.
September 1st, 2006 at 11:12 am
Everybody now…
Aaaaaaa finger of fudge is very small and sweet
Aaaa finger of fudge is just enough to give the kids a treat
It’s fuuuull of cadbury goodness and very small and neeeaaat!
AAaaaa finger of fudge is just enough to give the kids a treat.
By posting this on your blog I may have bankrupted you.
September 1st, 2006 at 12:48 pm
Stop that, my precious euroclicks!
September 18th, 2006 at 9:55 pm
[...] “Stag - A mans cream for a mans face. It invigorates and hardens the facial muscles and promotes an alert, forceful expression.” Fuck you Fudge Membrane Gas my Stag cream gives me “the clear, rugged, ruddy face of a real he-man; the healthy, clean skin and alert expression that comes from a vigorous life in the open air.” Damn that’s some good man-cream (I realise a statement of this nature could be miscontrued by those of a prurient disposition). [...]
September 19th, 2006 at 8:30 pm
I strongly suspect that it’s organic in origin.
I leave you to ponder where your Fudge Membrane might be, and how you might capture gas from it and market it to the gullible public.