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soapThey say never meet your heroes. It is good advice.

I once met two of mine in the same week, both of them tried to run me over, it was a terrible terrible time (don’t worry, I have been through counseling since, and can now thankfully listen to most ’80s music again without bursting into tears & screaming).

Wayyy back in the time I used to steward at Wembley Arena, it was the coolest job in the world, you could see any band you wanted, as many times as you wanted, but you ran the risk of being run over in their cars by any given superstar (that was the price you paid for such a cool job) when the gig was over, them were the rules. One day I will write an exposé book about this heinous travesty whereby the poor stewards of Wembley Arena were mere playthings to the pop superstars of the ‘80s, but until then trust me when I say that those ’80s legends together probably mowed down many many teenage stewards who were forced to queue up in the Wembley Arena backstreet like some kind of human-bowling-alley for them to drive through haphazardly after they had finished their gigs, they loved it, it was part of the deal of playing there. Legend was that one pop-star took down the highest number of stewards in her jeep (hitting 8 stewards, my friend Tarquin was one of them (he still can’t listen to any Now album between 1-30) and then she reversed to try and pick up the spare (more shocking than a foam-finger trust me).

The memory is a funny thing. It was the same, except nothing like it, with Dove soap. Back in the 80s Dove was totally new… but Skatey? what did we do before Dove soap was invented?… well, oof, there were only two options; ONE was something mental called Imperial Leather, it was no such thing I can tell you, it may have been Imperial (whatever that is), but leather? that would just be weird. Imperial Leather was a radioactively-bright-looking-orange bar, but get this, with WITH a sticker in the middle. A sticker?! A mofo’ing sticker ON A BAR OF SOAP, yes, as sure as ’80s popstars loved human-car-bowling, there was a bar of soap with a sticker on the middle of it (a sticker on it??? oh don’t start all over again purlease). The sticker was so heavy duty that you couldn’t peel it off (and trust me I tried getting those mutha’s off for days), it was there for life, even when it got down to just a slither that sticker lived on, it must have been stuck on there with industrial-strength fickin super glue, I mean, is that what we need on soap? Super glue? I bet you that in a billion years time there will be future humans asking ‘What is this matter that cannot be broken down or isn’ t biodegradable? This inhuman substance that has survived billions of years of evolution? I wouldn’t be surprised if this imperial leather sticker mutated into the future humans and was the reason for the savior and longevity of us humans, Man, anyway – when you scrubbed (with alleged leather in it), and a friggin sticker (oof, I can still feel it grazing my skin when I used to give myself the all-over with it) you came away glowing radioactive-orange, clever, actually they missed a trick there, they should’ve waited for Sunny D to be invented and then packaged them together – imagine the orangeness of it all. TWO there was Pear’s soap, something so wrong that it could only have come from pre-war or post war Britain, something to do with probably starting wars anyway, for one thing it stinks, for two it is the colour of something you see in the toilet if it goes unflushed for a few days, and for three it stunk the more you used it. Anyway, imagine my delight, hang on, I feel we need a paragraph break here…

Right, everyone chill, just chill for a second. And breathe….

Chilled? Right, right, right. When Dove soap came out I bought it. I didn’t just buy the soap though, I bought the advert, I bought the dream, and everything it told me. ‘Why do you like Dove soap so much?’ My very interesting friends would say, ‘well, I will tell you why imaginary interesting friends, it is because a third of dove soap is moisturiser’. Now. Good lord. Wow. Think about this. I bought it, I bought the dream. A soap WITH moisturiser! It was like landing on the moon and meeting Bruno Mars there. My friend totally ridiculed me ‘You what?’ they probably said incredulously, ‘you don’t believe that horsecrap do you?’ Ah, and then I realized. What was I thinking? I got sucked in by an advert and believed it (I also believed that if you bought a woman who you had never met before in the street flowers – she would instantly sleep with you (that’s a joke for the old-school there, younger viewers ignore these bracketty bits)). Soooo, after that Dove incident I’ve never looked back (the joke was I never even used moisturiser before or indeed after, the advert just made me want it). Ahhh the power of suggestion.

So, in summary, errr, the end.

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