Dorset Cereals make some rather bold statements on their product packaging, claims which thoroughly endorse their position as top dogs in the ‘Cereal Makers With A Flagrant Disregard for Suitable Adjectives’ category at the Advertisers’ AnusLies Awards 2010.
a) Tasty. Taste is entirely relative to the taster. If dung-beetles could talk, they’d wax lyrical about the earthy, brackish texture of fresh poo that melts in the mouth. Particularly easily persuaded humans (X-Factor viewers, young children) would then eat poo and realise that it’s really not their bag, before spitting it out and exclaiming something along the lines of ‘that tastes like poo.’ You’d be hard pressed to find a human that would describe poo as ‘tasty’, outside of ‘Dr.’ Gillian McKeith (or indeed inside her). It is for the eater to decide whether this muesli is tasty or not, not Dorset Cereals. The cereal company can try as hard as they like to influence the eater into thinking this through using a pleasant mix of rich and quality ingredients, but ultimately, the decision lies not with them. Furthermore, ‘tasty’ is essentially redundant: if you’re selling food to someone, there’s a tacit understanding that your product is pleasant to eat – no-one maliciously sells food designed to hinder and disgust the eater, apart from the Little Chef.
b) Honest. When was the last time you were betrayed by a cereal? I’ve certainly lost count of the times I’ve come home to find an oat has stolen my identity, the Sugar Puff Monster has slept with my girlfriend or the granola has farted and blamed it on the dog. Dorset Cereals are keen for us to know that this muesli is exactly what it claims to be – muesli. It’s not pasta. It’s not a collection of discarded football studs. It’s not Ed Miliband. It’s muesli. This muesli cannot and will not hurt you in any way, unless you have a nut allergy. Or use it to suffocate yourself. So stop worrying, relax, grab a spoon and some dishonest milk, because there’s no trick here – all those cereal manufacturers that have conned you in the past by selling you Frosties made of leprous pigs have finally got their comeuppance. This muesli is a bastion of truth in an otherwise misanthropic and villainous cereal world. A freedom fighter, a pure beam of light. We should all emulate this muesli and learn to be chaste and love one and other. This muesli has morals.
c) Real. As if the first two weren’t weak enough, this muesli is also ‘real.’ This is refreshing, because you can’t move for unreal mueslis these days, they’re everywhere, normally produced from sweetie fields in the sky ploughed by unicorns. This muesli will not pass through your hands like a phantom, it is tangible. You can really eat it. Because it is real. It’s not a cheap knockoff sewn together by 3-year-olds in China. It’s real. It is real. A real muesli. An instantiation in 3 dimensional space of the concept of muesli. It is part of reality. A real muesli, touch it, taste it, smell it, see it, get someone to tell you about it. It’s bloody real and it’s not going away. Unless you eat it.