Tetherd Cow Ahead

Last weekend, while tinkering in the kitchen, I offered to make Vermilion a beverage and, without thinking, I dashingly quipped ‘Coffee, tea or Bonox?’

Of course when I went past ‘tea’ she had no idea at all what I was talking about, because Bonox is one of those bizarre concoctions that comes from the far past and for some old geezers like myself, lingers in consciousness solely due to the power of advertising.

Bonox was invented by Kraft (more renowned as the makers of Vegemite) in 1919 ((Probably to use up some by-product of the Vegemite manufacturing process…)) The succinct Wikipedia entry on Bonox says it was ‘common to ask “Coffee, tea or Bonox” when offering guests a drink’ but I sincerely doubt that it was common. I’m totally sure that Kraft would have liked to have thought that, because it was an advertising slogan that they came up with in an attempt to try and make Bonox as popular as those other staples. It never worked because Bonox is DISGUSTING.

Entire generations of Australians remember the slogan, but the power of advertising can only do so much to actually sell something that tastes like the burnt remains of last Sunday’s roast dinner.

Do you notice how much the Bonox packaging looks like the Vegemite packaging? Well that’s because they are almost exactly the same thing. Except Bonox is supposed to be dissolved in hot water and sipped. I’m sure this was a mighty treat in the Depression, when the alternative was turps-soaked shoe leather and grass clippings, but these days when we have actual food, Bonox is about as appealing as dripping or curds or suet or any other food substitutes that more properly belong in a Steinbeck novel. The bizarre thing is that Kraft still makes Bonox, which means someone still buys it.

All I can say is it’s not me.

The thing is, I have never shaken the eerie feeling that one day I’m going to dashingly quip ‘Coffee, tea or Bonox?’ and my guest’s face is going to light up as they say ‘Oooo! Bonox! Yes please!’

(PS – Notice how it says ‘Cholesterol Free’ on the label these days? Is that supposed to make your thought process go: ‘Awright! It tastes like burnt rubber tires and carbonized dog turds, but what the hey! It’s cholesterol free!!! Put the kettle on!’)

Pil found this sign on Parramatta Rd in Sydney. She seemed to think it strange, but isn’t that the way you stop the colours from running?

You know you’ll never survive the Apocalypse when you wonder for a moment why the spelling on your handwritten shopping list didn’t just auto-correct…

Srsly.

Faithful Acowlytes King Willy and Pil have been been on a pilgrimage to Cow Central these last few days, and lawks, I thought they’d never leave what a fabtacular time we’ve all had. There was gingerbread, and whisky and birthday cake and all manner of shenanigans. Hopefully, by now they’ve made it back through Sydney Airport without being assaulted by biker gangs and are kicking back with extra spicy Virgin Marys on their terrace.

While they were here, they were amused to discover that I have my own brand of milk.

This is something that, until they pointed it out, I’d comprehensively failed to notice (that sometimes happens when one is the spokesperson for a supernatural being). Henceforth let it be known that here at The Cow, not only do we have plenty of The Milk of Human Kindness, but it’s low fat as well!

At NewStar, the relaxation starts with the rules of spelling and continues right through to the Happy Ending.

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Thanks once more to Pil and her eagle eye! One more hi-lair-ree-us foto and she’ll have her Cow Merit Badge…

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Cissy Strutt, ever on the lookout with her Cow Eye (that didn’t sound quite right), sent in this flyer for our mutual hilarity.

Of course, the sentence to which your eyes were surely drawn is ‘I do tarot without all the naff crap‘. Tarot without all the naff crap, is, in this case, just a hot chocolate (as it would also be with all the naff crap). At $15, an expensive hot chocolate to be sure, but when Elle says ‘I’m good’, maybe she’s an ace on the milk steamer.

Still, I kinda empathise with Elle. When I was younger, I too considered a career as a fortune teller, but gave it away because I couldn’t see any future in it.