There’s an advert for Petits Filous on at the moment. It shows a boy getting all his marbles nicked, and being upset; and then some little girl (who’s just eaten a Petits Filous, and so therefore has had a super-human amount of calcium and has Bones Of Iron, or something) comes along and says “‘Ello zere leetle boy, don’t cry like a big Eeeenglish rosbif baby. We shall go and get zose marbles back for you, zut alors!” or something, and she arm wrestles with one of the boys who nicked the marbles, and beats him and gets the marbles back.

Now, I’m sorry. There is not a single 8 year old boy alive who would have actually allowed that to happen. Having your marbles nicked by a bunch of bullies is bad, sure enough; but the embarassment would be nothing – I mean, absolutely miniscule – in comparison to the life-destroying humiliation of having to get your girlfriend to go and get them back for you. Let’s see: weighing up losing a few marbles against being such a wuss that you had to get a girl to go and get your marbles back.

That kid must have been beaten up so many times after his mates saw that advert.

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 24th, 2005 at 9:33 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.