Friday, 23 January 2009

Credit Crunchtastic

Apparently an important part of marketing is in-store promotions. Abi and I made one attempt at this last year and it was a complete failure. Although we tried our best to overcome our nerves and proffer the miniature scoops of congealed porridge with conviction the customers sensed our fear and lurched away from us, taking cover behind a shelf of condiments and other larder essentials.

Last week Waitrose invited us to do an in-store promotion in the food hall at John Lewis Oxford St and because we love Waitrose and do anything they say, we agreed. Having decided that giving away only a morsel of porridge is too stingy and that giving a whole pot is way better we arrived with 500 pots stashed in our trade-mark leopard print bags from the pound shop and prepared to stand in the corner and be ignored. We were SO WRONG, the store is like heaven, everyone who works there was LOVELY to us and we didn’t want to go home afterwards. When we gave people free samples they reacted as though they were auditioning for a Daz commercial, ‘[GASP] I never thought my tea-towels could be that white!’
It was heaven to stand there for an hour feeling the love and meeting our public, people actually THRONGED at one point.

The cherry on the John-Lewis-experience cake came when an old friend of mine arrived out of the blue to help us out. The last time I had seen her I was copying her homework 22 years ago and here she was climbing aboard the Grasshopper Lovetrain. As with everything as soon as it was over, like a monkey with a button I wanted to do it again, so we’re booked in for Friday 6th February and hope to see you then for another credit crunchtastic Grassy give away bonanza.

Tuesday, 20 January 2009

Grasshopper, friend to the stars

As you will know if you have seen our Facebook pictures, Grasshopper has some celebrity friends. If you were impressed when we told you that we had met Ainsley Harriott and Vanessa Feltz I can tell you that since then we have enjoyed the following celebrity endorsement:

1. We had a drink (tap water) with Angelina Jolie’s hair dresser
2. We gave some to Gemma Aterton from James Bond (V pretty)
3. We talked about Grassy to this American guy who had just sold his company (I realised afterwards that it was Skype)
4. We have also sent porridge to Fern & Philip but we don’t know if they have tried it yet.

Dad said that we should send some porridge to Barrack Obama but I don’t think he’d be allowed to eat it. Having drifted off into a celebrity related daydream starring me as the first lady with hair as thick as Monica Lewinsky’s I was brought back down to Earth with a thud when the photographs from The Daily Mail ‘Anthea Turner’ shoot arrived in my inbox....

Friday, 16 January 2009


I always count my proverbial chickens way before they hatch. I assume that everything will work out perfectly and settle down to hours of happy fantasizing.

On Monday it became apparent that there is a possibility that The Daily Mail may run some of my blog in its Femail section (not as I accidentally called it the Shemale section which is a whole other publication). A photographer came over yesterday to take our picture, just in case The Mail decides to run the piece.

In my mind the above situation means that my blog will be published in the Newspaper, I will get so much fan mail that I will:

A: Have a boyfriend in time for my birthday in June
B: Be offered a regular column and a book deal

By the time the photographer arrived I was already preparing speeches for the following situations:

A: Being interviewed by Fern Britton
B: Being a guest judge on The X Factor
C: Accepting the Booker Prize

The photographer arrived with a hair and make up lady. Abi and I don’t actually own a lipstick between us as we use chapstick instead and, telling us that the look she was aiming for was Anthea Turner she went to work. When she had finished with me I looked like an extra from Band of Gold with hair sprayed into a Margaret Thatcher like bouffant. Abi fared rather better and turned out looking like Bruce’s dolly dealer on Play Your Cards Right.

Abi tries to nurture a more realistic approach to media and remind me that often people say they will print something about us and it doesn’t happen but this one really feels like a sure thing to this space.

Wednesday, 7 January 2009

It’s over....go home

My favourite thing about the holidays apart from celebrating the birth of Jesus our risen lord is Grasshopper mum’s Christmas pudding. Although the number of people at lunch varies each year the size of the pudding remains constant meaning that the portion available for me is inversely proportional to the number at lunch. This year the portion left over was so meagre that I took the precaution of hiding behind a barricade of Flora cartons at the back of the fridge.

Mum takes nearly a whole day to make the holy pudding. It has about one hundred ingredients and she wraps it in layers of paper and string that are folded like a concertina before it is steamed for a day then she takes all the wrapping off and puts on a fresh layer and steams it again. It is the highlight of the year and the Flora defence is necessary because one year a houseguest failed to understand that the pudding is only slightly less important than the Shroud of Turin and ate all the leftovers without sharing.

Prior to the sacred pudding comes a turkey that Fiona Simpson’s dad gets. Fiona Simpson’s tortoise is 90 and has survived an actual kidnapping. The turkey is a special one that has been fed a macrobiotic diet and sent to boarding school. It has had the best life possible for a turkey. This year after watching Jamie Oliver, dad got a bit experimental and stuck a Satsuma up it but you couldn’t taste it.

Getting back into work mode is proving to be a bit tricky this year; I keep losing concentration and wandering off to buy sweets. Next to the sweet shop there is a carwash run by 8 Polish men. The other day when I was passing I thought ‘crikey there’s Patrick Swayzee’ but it was one of the men from the Polish carwash. Today I walked past and he was sitting outside with Polish Dennis Hopper. I think that the Polish carwash is just a front for a celebrity retirement village.