The entire 100 year history of the British Isles is as interesting, arguably, as the history of Bleach and Tonic (dot com). Founded as a sex aid (we’re talking about Bleach and Tonic here) to revive the declining fortunes of a fading power (op cit), Bleach and Tonic was initially www.cleaningporn.com. You can click that link all you like, you’ll come back here. There’s no escape. Cleaning Porn (dot com) was a christmas gift to Mrs Gin.
The problems with this gift were twofold:
one: how do you wrap up an URL (*) and put it under the xmas tree? You don’t. What you do is panic madly on Christmas Eve and go out and buy ‘Eat to Lose Weight’ for £3.99 from Bargain Books instead. She was grimly delighted; judging from the socks she gave us, she made a profit of at least £1.50
two: is the internet ready for an attempt to jazz up Mrs Gin’s sex life? Do we really need to bring a ‘Calender Girls’ type smut to cleaning? Who benefits from seeing Mrs Gin posing with only a strategically placed mop and a couple of metal scourers?
No-one. Erotica and Cleaning just do not mix, and believe us we’ve tried. Only one remnant of that dark time remains. One surviving photo, and you can see it here [NSFW](http://i.imgur.com/dQpYYpF.png”/>
The dismal Christmas passed, with us clad in our Pound Shop socks. And, instead of pornography (face facts Mrs Gin, that’s what it would have been), we used cleaningporn to rant about poorly designed cleaning products (Mr Muscle, Toilet Duck) and eulogise about good ones (Zoflora, Super Jon). The problem was that according to our search logs most people arriving on our site were looking for something VERY different than a Christmas Special 6000 word review of Domestos with some light hearted jokes about domestic abuse, or a review of Dettol which contained a
‘specific and credible threat to kill’.
No, unfortunately, they were looking for porn.
So to get away, once more, from all that unpleasantness, we moved home to Bleach And Tonic (dot com) and began to stalk Zoflora on Twitter. When they blocked us we moved on to Premier Inn and then Oven Pride. Our favourite one was when we tweeted Oven Pride a review which they favourited, obviously never having read past the first line which said ‘this stuff could change our life’ because the rest of the review was probably overly specific speculation – but speculation’s all it was – that we could use the stuff to dissolve someone’s dismembered corpse in the bath.
Our reviews of cleaning products continued over the years, as did our ignored pleas for product placement. In case you were wondering (Zoflora makers), it’s £2000 for a positive review with no photos or £50 for a bad one with a picture of Mrs Gin posing with your product thrown in. Clothed. Clothed. Let me make that clear. Clothed. Mrs Gin is game for more, sadly, but we are afraid we must insist on that point most firmly.
Unfortunately, as any professional reviewer will attest, reviewing cleaning products is a hard game and it took it’s toll. We noticed our reviews became less about grime removal and more thinly disguised cries for help. We have to say, just like the pleas for product placement sponsorship were ignored, so too were the desperate cries for help. The internet is a hard, hard place.
After our breakdown, we lay on our sofa, hired a cleaner and got a cat. The cat is called ‘chops’, (short for cuntchops). We don’t know the cleaner’s name. And we tried to forget about cleaning. We tried, we tried so hard and we almost did. But, in the end, we did not, so here we are back again and this time from the off, Greater Manchester Police, we can tell you that any so called specific and credible threats to kill Mrs Gin are just humorous jokes. We’d never kill her. We’d never be fucking able to.
That’s a technical joke, but believe me it’s hilarious. It’s probably the best joke I’ve ever made.