Bloo total review: Our extinction gift.

Neither day nor night

Astonishing times, indeed.  Signs of the transformation are everywhere – the lockdowns, the general unpleasantness, and, most disquieting of all, the fact it has not rained in Manchester for neither 40 days nor nights.

Yes, the prophets and the books of wisdom are true:  The world as we knew it is ending, things will never be the same again.  Bloo is back on the shelves at Tesco.

Mrs Gin’s hackles / a hot young ‘working girl’

We’ve reviewed Bloo before.  Twice in fact as we loved it so much.  If memory serves, we likened it to a hot young ‘working girl’, new in town and angering the ‘old boilers’ of the street.  The old boliers, staples of the aisle such as yer Domestoss (whom we liked to a ‘no-nonsense’ dominatrix type of prostitute), yer Dettols (a school mam type pro), and yer Toilet Ducks (fetish work).  It was an simile (?)  which raised Mrs Gin’s prodigious heckles but it was worth it.  Shortly after our review, Bloo vanished from the shelves forever.  Thus is the impact of our reach. But now the world has ended and Bloo’s back.  And what the hell is a hackle?

In the midst of our pandemic shopping (spelt flour, pomegranate molasses, chicory for us, loathsome tea, bananas milk and eggs for our stricken ‘neighbour in need’), we chanced a diversion down the household aisle.  

This has been depressing beer recently, for two reasons.  Firstly, the absences on the shelves.  It reminds us -obscurely – of when our youngest’s adorable baby teeth fell out.  Secondly, the continued presence of Zoflora.  Untouched by the mob of looters and panicing over-entitled wankers.  We are gutted that panic buying has not boosted  Thornton and Ross’s profits by 300%

Hessian walk.

This time, amidst the absences we found the below:  Bloo Total Hygiene, Shine Sea Breeze and Flower Burst edition.  Oh the joy there must be in naming flavours for toilet cleaners, and yet they are all so predictable.  All these flavours are the same.  We would genuinely love to be involved in the process.  We would spice things up.   We would apply the same rigorous design language and ethos that, say, Apple Computers bring to their iPhone lines. 

We would go for more arty, abstract things; ‘Hessian rub’, ‘Spring walk’,  things like that.  You can have those two.   Please contact if you are an up and coming toilet cleaning brand and want advice from a bitter, bespoke, boutique twat.  Would have said ‘bastard’, there, to hammer the aliteration but we wanted to show our versatility.


We bought one of each, although we wanted to double up on Sea Breeze. We have a holiday home by the sea (we know, we know) and we miss the sea like you cannot believe. This lockdown is ridiculous. Certain people should be allowed to travel to certain locations and also get haircuts. Certain people are above lockdowns.   Above mobs, above panic.

So in the boot it went:

It is glorious:

We do have to say that the ‘Sea Breeze’ smells more floral than the floral one, which just smells of delicious, harsh, industrial chemicals. We loved it so much half the bottle went down on the first flush, before we realised we had forgotten to take a photo. Before we realised we could not visit Tesco for another week.


If indeed – as we hope – these are end times, then, genuinely Bloo Sea Breeze is a fitting epitaph. Were we able to leave one thing, one trace of us for the species who evolve in our space, we should undoubtedly leave a toilet cleaner. It speaks of so much; of practicality, of cleanliness, of marketing lies and banality. Of industrialisation. We can think of no better symbol of what we have both achieved and failed to achieve.