In a rare display of rampant careerism I intend to use this entry’s opening sentence to audition for The One Show, the BBC’s bland magazine show. Excuse me while I trite it up a little…
October 31st is a time normally associated with ghosts and goblins, spooks and spectres and things that go bump in the night, but there’s nothing scarier than a multi-billion dollar corporation screwing over poor people to make another buck and a half, figuring the odd bit of additional misery in already miserable lives is worth it to see the numbers on their bank statement increase slightly despite already having more money than they could reasonably expect to spend if they lived a thousand endless lifetimes.
I think maybe I blew it there.
October 31st sees the start of IBFAN’s International Nestlé-Free Week, a chance for boycotters to big up boycotting and non-boycotters to get stuck in. If you’ve not made your way about the Nestlé section of this here website (harder now I’ve deleted the fucker) you’ll be unaware of how they’ve flogged baby milk in breach of international guidelines, ramming it into developing countries where the water it’s mixed with is so dirty it can kill, where it’s so expensive it can make a poor family poorer and where, as in most countries, breast milk is healthy, available and free. Nestlé gets a kicking because they’re the market leader. The more money they lose, the more likely they are to change what they’re doing.
It’d be a cheat for me to go the week without Nestlé products because I’ve been boycotting the little shits for years, with the exception of the few bars of chocolate I bought for the above image. I’d say the ends justify the means there. The means are always justified when the ends are puerile and sweary. So what am I doing? First, I’m blogging about it, raising awareness of the issue among the dozens of visitors to the site, the majority of whom are trying to sell me knock off handbags and cock pills but some of whom might be interested.
Second, I’ve made some fliers to distribute around my regular haunts; the office, the campus, the drunk tank. And third, I’ll be spamming Facebook so people I don’t speak to much and people I don’t speak to at all will be made aware of my stance on this particular issue. In return I’ll be made aware of their stance on posting misrepresentative photos of rare highlights in their otherwise drab, monotonous lives. That’s some damn good do-gooding right there.
That done, it’s time for another bash at this audition thing: So there’s Nestlé for you. Next, marshmallows at the ready; correspondent Alexander Frant joins the 5th Division Zeroville Scouts to see how their preparations for Guy Fawkes night are progressing. Let’s hope they don’t make him feel like a dummy! Ha ha! Ha ha ha! Ha ha how I hate myself.
Photo credit: The Zero
