So permacrisis is the word of the year for 2022, as decided by Collins Dictionary. I don’t think I had come across that exact word at all – ever.
The closest I can recall was when Mrs X had her hair styled by someone who didn’t quite know what they were doing. That was a perm crisis. I sent those shocking photos to a lot of people, but not to Collins Dictionary.
That’s all you have to do to emphasise something – stick a perma in front of it. When we were allowed to go for a pint, if I stayed too long in the pub I would come home to a permafrost. David Attenborough then took it up as a description of the Arctic and Antarctic wastelands. Well, he used to.
I thought mince pies were for December. They are a festive hug, even if you are semi-posh and insist on calling them mincemeat pies. As you wipe the crumbs off your best cardigan, or pummel one into the custard you bought specially, you devour it and you feel all is well with the world – even if it isn’t. I suppose it all harks back to those warm feelings of childhood, if we were lucky enough to experience them. A mince pie helps.
Last week at the checkout of a certain Stornoway supermarket, a lad shovelling my beans and bread into a carrier bag offered, in hushed tones, a box of six “at a very good price”. His conspiratorial attitude brought back memories of not-dissimilar offers involving Embassy fags when I was on fifth year. The quantity was usually 10 though, in line with the state of the economy i.e. the prevailing rates of pocket money.
Celebrations and commiserations over Christmas treat
He whispered: “It’s a competition between the checkouts. The one who sells the most mince pies at checkout wins the prize.” As if I would fall for such high-pressure techniques. “Certainly not, young fellow.”
I planned to have a word with the manager of this purveyor of cheap gimmicks. Then he said: “Please yourself, sir. The next consignment of mince pies we get will be much more expensive.” The cost-of-living crisis is about to hit my stomach and I could stop that now? Well, those pies just flew into my trolley.
How the hell can Celebrations remove the dad’s favourite, Bounty, and yet keep a chocolate bar that has absolutely outstayed its welcome, the Mars bar? pic.twitter.com/Y5sHtuvZ1I
— Jason Manford (@JasonManford) November 3, 2022
Just like people flew into a rage over news of other Christmas treats. The mini Bounty is being banned from the Celebrations boxes, allegedly. Believe that and you’ll believe anything. Yet people do, because they saw it on Facebook. In a piece of slick marketing, with the aid of gullible twits Richard Osman and Piers Morgan, who were carefully targeted with the sensational press release, this shocking news took over the nation’s newspapers and the airwaves.
Will there be treats in store for Matt Hancock in I’m a Celebrity jungle?
Makers Mars Wrigley eventually conceded it was nonsense – well, 99% nonsense. They’ll be selling trial boxes with no Bounty, which 39% of customers already don’t want, but only in a few selected stores. It’s a tiny trial. Most people won’t see any changes as they chomp.
Here’s another statistic – nearly 80% of UK families questioned their own Bounty preferences last week. The foolish were outraged. Job well done, PR department. You deserve a permabonus.
Which delicious treats will be in store for former health minister Matt Hancock? That twit played truant from parliament to go across perfectly-safe rope bridges, be buried underground with harmless snakes and spiders and chew unmentionable, but completely non-toxic, bits of animals, which died by unknown means for televisual purposes and the entertainment of millions.
Proper entertainment would be if strait-laced Scottish Secretary Alister Jack went in the jungle. Then we may hear what he thinks he has done for his country for Boris Johnson to reportedly give him a peerage. I think the A-lister was chosen for being one of few not to attack Johnson publicly for allegedly misleading the House of Commons, and goodness only knows what other allegedlies. Of course, we all know Nadine Dorries will be on that particular bizarre list of utter shame.
She’s already been in the jungle and ate that ostrich’s *******. Sorry, I’m not really squeamish but I can’t bring myself to say it, never mind put it in my mouth. Back in 2013, when we hardly knew her, she skipped parliamentary duties for celebrity. She achieved immortality, but not in a good way. We should have known then.
Hancock could do better by skipping out of the jungle and going to find Lord Lucan. Depending on which newspaper you read, he has been found alive and well in Australia and living life as an 87-year-old Buddhist Down Under. It’s probably not him of course but, if it is, he must be the very definition of someone living in a permacrisis.
Iain Maciver is a former broadcaster and news reporter from the Outer Hebrides
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