An­other decade and an­other ‘great’ idea!

Sunderland Echo - - Comment - RICHARD ORD

I’m en­joy­ing a rare rush of money-spin­ning ideas.

My av­er­age is about one ev­ery decade. This decade’s doozy is, again, al­co­hol-re­lated.

A range of bot­tled beers called ‘In­mod­er­a­tion.’

Not the most catchy name I grant you, but then it is de­signed to get the wife and doc­tors off your back.

At my age, al­co­hol con­sump­tion is frowned upon.

How cool then, when asked how much you drink, to be able to put your hand on your heart and an­swer hon­estly: “I al­ways drink In­mod­er­a­tion.” (in mod­er­a­tion, ged­dit?)

It could de­velop into a range of doc­tor dup­ing prod­ucts. As part of this range, I’m think­ing of bring­ing out a two-tier high calo­rie choco­late and cream cake. Its name? The Five a day.

Doc­tor: “Are you get­ting your five a day?”

Me: “Yes, I had it this morn­ing.”

A chew­ing tobacco un­der the name Reg­u­lar ex­er­cise.

“Do you take reg­u­lar ex­er­cise?”

Ev­ery day. Usu­ally be­fore my Five a day.

How about a brand of high tar cig­a­rettes called Fresh Air?

Fill your lungs with Fresh Air. Don’t mind if I do.

You could beat any poly­graph test. And, if you have a wife like mine, lie de­tec­tor tests may be­come a reg­u­lar fea­ture of mar­ried life.

I men­tioned the doc­tor dup­ing range was my idea of the decade. The last one was very sim­i­lar.

I wanted to open up a bar called The Gym.

Wife: “Where you off to at this time of night?” Me: “The Gym.” When you re­turn all red faced, sweaty and wob­bly legged, it only adds to the cred­i­bil­ity of the ruse.

Wife: “Hmm. And the traf­fic cone?”

Me: “It’s not a traf­fic cone, it’s a core bal­ance mas­sage roller. It helps loosen tight ham­strings.”

Wife: “Then why is it on your head?”

Well, I never said the ideas don’t have their flaws. Back to the draw­ing board.

The rea­son I came up with the idea was be­cause I was asked what I want for my birth­day. My doc­tor dup­ing range would be great for the older man seek­ing a vice with­out re­crim­i­na­tions.

Un­til I get the Dragons’ Den team to back me, looks like it’s slippers again this year.

What I won’t be ask­ing for is the Ex­fo­li­at­ing Foot Mask.

A work col­league re­vealed that she’d tried this odd prod­uct. Es­sen­tially, it’s like an ex­fo­li­at­ing face mask, ex­cept you wear it on your feet. Af­ter it’s washed off, within a few days a layer of skin falls off your feet. A bit like a snake shed­ding its skin.

It got me think­ing. 1) Stick the word beauty in front of any­thing and you can flog it. And 2) That shred­ded skin could be reused.

My cur­rents slippers are a size 10, be­cause my wife said they didn’t have nines.

If I buy her the Foot Mask and then wear her dis­carded foot skin like a sock, maybe my old slippers will fit? Make that my one for the decade...

An artery-hard­en­ing cream cake called Fivea­day? The Dragons are in...

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