Tongue In Cheek

Dear Bronte Tongues In Jelly,

You ruined my life. I say this without a hint of sarcasm. While I was in high school, I frequented Australian cinemas such as the now defunct Greater Union and Village and the still ‘going strong’ Hoyts. It was in the latter which I first encountered your blue and bronze monstrosity. Before each film, there was a slideshow of advertising for local and cinema-based fare. For example, choc-top and popcorn deals, ladies fashion and pizza meal deals with a movie ticket. This was usually followed by a bass-driven Val Morgan endorsement and a smattering of previews (the real gems of the pre-viewing experience). But I digress.

Bronte Tongues In Jelly was usually sandwiched in the middle of the pre-preview slides. And I say sandwich with some hesitation for while I assume you are meant to be eaten, it flabbergasts me that anyone would even contemplate it. Now, I would like to say, I have no issue with eating tongue, but canned tongue? In jelly? I don’t think you could be more unappealing if you tried. I am simply thankful that there is no image of said tongue on the side of your can.

I hate to use so obvious an idiom, but I truly and honestly despise you for leaving a bad taste in my mouth before every single film I saw at Hoyts. I had to wonder at the time, at every time that I saw your hideous can fill the screen, where exactly you were getting the money to support cinema advertising. I could only assume based on the quality of slides and voiceovers that it was actually not as expensive as it seemed. In hindsight I should have used this knowledge to launch a smear campaign against you but unfortunately, youth being what it is, I couldn’t be bothered.

Now, at this very instant, I am certain your slide has been retired from cinema advertising, which I took to mean that you were finally dead and gone. Not so. Sadly, not so. I was standing in the queue at Woolworths the other day, looking at the endless cans of baked beans, meat dishes and Spam, thinking about how Spam should only be considered food in Japan when out of the corner of my eye, I spied something small and blue and bronze. I would like to preface my next statement with another statement; ‘I am not prone to hyperbole’. My heart stopped in my chest. How could this nightmare from my childhood still be in existence? I thought I had crushed you like a child (not me) crushes bed-wetting and night terrors. But you have proven to be as resilient as the common cockroach.

After recovering not only my senses but a great flood of unwanted suppressed memories, I resolved to throw this gauntlet at you, knowing in my heart of hearts that nothing can bring you down, but nobly trying nonetheless.

Adrik