You might well remember what we think of Bloo Sweet Tulip:
If bleaches were prostitutes, with Domestos as the hardbitten, no-nonsense ‘madam’ of the cleaning aisle, Bloo Sweet Tulip is the new girl in town. Quirky, innocent, but still slightly racy. And very reasonably priced.
Or you might not remember. As much as we’d like, unfortunately it’s still almost entirely up to you. Bit rude though, forgetting. Little bit nasty, yes?
Anyway, over the last seven weeks, encompassing trawls of aisles at Lidl, Aldi (both a waste of time for cleaning affectionados), Tesco, Sainsburys and Asda, we have not been able to find the slightest drop of the goregous goregous bloo.
This beaut has vanished from the asiles. As I stood in Sainsburs and asked a slack jawed assistant if they still sold the nectar (and I did use that word), I had a ridiculous fantasy. Just like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, we thought that maybe some rich industrialist had fallen for Bloo and swept her up the aisle
I had fantasies of it having a better life, of being squirted into LA swimming pools rather than shitty toilets, of being appreciated and – yes – loved like I loved it.
“Don’t think we sell it no more love” the assistant said, and like that, and like the end of crossroads, my dream dissolved in a supermarket.
Did I dream Bloo? Did I invent the whole thing. The internet says not. The internet is still full of links about it, though it has been criminaly overlooked on Wikipedia. But, like my toilet without bloo, the internet is full of shit.
RIP in peace sweet Bloo Sweet Tulip.
I loved you