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Weigh the Anchor
It is a blimmin’ outrage, a full page advertisement in Saturday’s Guardian newspaper having a crack at New Zealand’s Anchor butter in order to promote its own brand, Country Life. What is the world coming to and just how little respect is being shown for New Zealand, a country whose soldiers willingly laid down their lives in several world wars fighting for Mother England?
Boldly headlined, Revealed: Anchor Butter is from New Zealand, the advertisement begs the question of whether readers know where their butter comes from? And then it answers the question, claiming that 39 percent of people who buy Anchor butter think it’s British. The small print reveals that the 39 percent figure is derived from a survey of only 485 people, and given this is a nation of more than 58 million the sample is so small that our calculator hemorrhaged trying to figure out what proportion of the population it actually is. Given its size, the poll probably has a margin of error of 39 percent as well, but the feature doesn’t provide that statistic.
The Guardian ad is a mock-up of a newspaper page with a silly looking man bursting through pretend stories proclaiming: “So?! I buy Country Life cos I THINK IT TASTES THE BEST”. Country Life is British butter, and we learn it is or should be the natural choice for readers who prefer to support British farmers. Not that we, who ever we are, have anything against New Zealand; apparently it’s a fantastic place.
It may be that the sample was taken from idiots. Everyone knows that Anchor butter comes from New Zealand, even the judiciary in Dubai. We know this because once, when Jade had a slight difficulty with an expired work visa, she was required to have a rather formal discussion with the authorities and it transpired that the judge she appeared before was a keen fan of Anchor. Clearly a man with fine taste.
If we seem less than impressed, let us tell you about the weekend tube service heading into central London and home again to catch up with the cast, crew, loyal supporters and hangers-on (that’s us) of Ro Dalziel’s play Lost in Thought, and to say farewell to Lianne who is heading back to New Zealand. This exclusive soiree was being held in the bar at the Globe Theatre and we should have been able to get there by a direct ride on the District Line, but that was closed beyond Earl’s Court. The next best was to change to Circle Line but that too was closed for weekend maintenance, so we opted for the Jubilee Line which was supposed to only be closed beyond London Bridge, our intended destination. Only after we got off the Central Line at Bond Street did we discover that the whole of the Jubilee Line was closed, forcing us to take the Bakerloo Line and then double back on the Northern Line. As if this wasn’t complicated enough, we carefully planned the journey home, taking into account that the escalators at Bank Station were under repair and out of the question. So, across the Millennium footbridge we walked and alongside the Thames to Temple Station, only to find that closed. So it was another kilometer or so walk to Embankment Station and back on the Bakerloo Line to Tottenham Court Road, where we changed for the Central Line to home. Such a lengthy journey becomes very unsettling on the bladder, particularly made worse by missing a bus at Ealing Broadway, having to wait for the next one, and then with the bus we caught failing to stop as requested at St Barnabus Church, and going on to Pitshanger Village, all resulting in another ten minutes walking. For this remarkable service, the travel card fare was more than 6 pounds (or $NZ16), a fortune compared with our favourite buses in Abu Dhabi where, for a similar length journey, it would have cost 2 dirham or slightly over $NZ1.
It is as well our hosts, the Moodies are very tolerant, we were more than one hour late for a carefully prepared dinner of slow-cooked pork - but at least on leaving the Globe, Kaelene had a farewell kiss on each cheek from her new friend Raybon Kan.