Less bollocksy

I was sitting at my desk quietly working away the other day when I heard my boss come out with the following pearl of wisdom while discussing something with a colleague: "I want it just like that - but less bollocksy!"

Now, this is just the latest in a long line of hilarious statements that the man has said since I started many years ago, but when you think about it he's quite right. At some point people have started using 4000 words to say things that could be said in about five. I was reading a review of a book about writing yesterday that said how a lot of authors tend to write things like 'John looked at Kate and said "oh, I like that" ironically' when in fact if it's irony done properly you don't need to point it out, because if you have to point it out it probably wasn't ironic in the first place and you just end up sounding like you're a) stupid, and b) patronising your reader (something I'd never do. Oh no).

Anyhoo, since that day I've found myself looking at various things and thinking about how they could be simplified and made, well, less bollocksy. And so, in the first of a new occasional series (which I'll undoubtedly forget about and never return to) we turn our attention to…

The new razor I bought this week!

If like me you're a boy who needs to shave once a month or so like, every day or something, you'll be keenly aware of the fact that a good razor is a very important thing. I've been using a Gillette Fusion for the last couple of years because the advertising suggested it would make me appear more masculine and attractive to women there was a promotion on in Sainsburys a few years back, but because it was getting a bit old and manky and you almost need to take out a second mortgage to cover the cost of replacement blades I decided I'd buy a new one as a bit of a treat.

But zut alore! What a choice! After standing in the man-stuff aisle in Sainsburys for what seemed like an eternity, I found myself with two choices: the Gillette Fusion Stealth Power Razor or the King of Shaves Razor Warp. Although the Gillette one was half price for just under four quid, I eventually plumped for the slightly more expensive (just over four quid) King of Shaves one, mainly because the Gillette one needed a battery and just looked excessively complex; really, all I want a razor to do is not slice my pretty pretty face up - I don't need it to be playing show tunes at me. And I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be able to follow through on its promise of making me stealthy.

But while my newly-purchased King of Shaves razor doesn't appear to be burdened with more unnecessary features than a Swiss-Army penknife, the packaging does appear to be guilty of being a bit too bollocksy.

Let's review:

You'll notice here that I've helpfully annotated the photograph. Good times.

 To begin, I'd like to say that the packaging itself is quite clean and distinctive; unlike the competition from Gillette, King of Shaves has not cluttered their design with has-been sports personalities or fonts that wouldn't be out of place on advertising materials for a 1970s science-fiction film.

That said, they're not entirely innocent. So, let's explore the charges against King of Shaves.

1. The King of Shaves Razor Warp comes with three extra blades. But rather than say 'comes with three extra blades,' someone in the marketing department decided to jazz it up a little, the result being that I am now the proud owner of a razor and three Endurium cartridges.

I have no idea what Endurium is.

Seriously, WTF!? It sounds like something from an X-Men movie. Isn't Wolverine's skeleton made of Endurium? If the use of the word Endurium is supposed to impress me, well, mission failed. I'm totally perplexed. My little face is screwed up in confusion. 

I want my mummy.

2. Someone get a proofreader. It's 'RAZOR,' not 'AZOR.'

3. 'Hybrid Synergy System Razor'!? What!? Um, I thought I was buying something to shave with, not a Toyota Prius.

4. Warp? Well of course I'm drawn to this because I'm a Star Trek fan, but so far all King of Shaves has promised to do is cut my C02 emissions and get me to Ceti Alpha V in the blink of an eye.

Verdict? Guilty - make it less bollocksy!

I've actually not used the hybrid warp-drive/razor yet, but I'm hoping it shaves better than its confusing packaging suggests.

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Elsewhere, I sampled one of the new limited edition flavours of Walkers crisps yesterday: Cajun Squirrel.

Yes, you read that right. I ate some Cajun Squirrel flavoured crisps.

To be honest, I've never eaten anything squirrelly before, so I couldn't possibly tell you how close these were to the real thing. What I can tell you is that they tasted a bit like a combination of slightly-off roast beef crisps and that taste you get when a dodgy curry repeats on you. Which means they were kind of OK at first. About an hour later, though, my mouth genuinely felt like something - a squirrel, perhaps - had crawled up inside it and died. I swear I could feel fur in there too. And to make matters worse, I COULD NOT GET RID OF THE TASTE. I tried mints, drinks, dinner - nothing worked. I went round a mates place in the evening and when he asked me what I wanted to drink I almost asked for a glass of bleach.

I could still taste them this morning. According to the packet, Cajun Squirrel flavoured crisps were suggested by a guy called Martyn from Hednesford, and if that's true I'm going to hunt him down and dry-slap him. 

Unfortunately, I still have the Fish and Chip flavour to go. Lord help me.