Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.The Tetley Tea people have kept themselves to themselves for 30 years - well it seems like it. There's never been a breath of scandal, as one of those Alan Bennett characters played by Dame Thora Hird or Patricia Routledge would say. Or the original old biddies on Coranora. Or Hylda Baker to Jimmy Jewel in Nearest and Dearest. These things spring to mind unbidden if you're a very deep Southerner.
The truth is it's a lot of old Northern nonsense that's been there so long everyone's stopped noticing anything about it. It's nearer the fabulously boring Last of the Summer Wine than the knowing camp of Bennett, Baker or Corrie. The Tetley people are Diddymen rendered by the school of Homepride Flour Graders.
But something's been happening recently to make me rewind it, slow it, think about it. Don't ask me about The Story So Far but I get the feeling the Tetley creatures are getting out of their cave. And that the Tetley marketeers are getting fretful and defensive about something. And that they're taking a bit of a risk.
One of the new treatments introduces sex - there's no avoiding it. A thoroughly sexed-up woman ("no better than she ought to be, fur coat and no knickers" - the vocabulary is endless) makes unmistakable advances to a Tetley creature. An animated taxi - proper black London style, accurately drawn - stops in a street of back-to-backs. Night, purple sky, cat crossing. It's not exactly Atkinson Grimshaw - there I go again - but it's decidedly romantic for Tetley. And in the back there's passionate kissing. The Tetley creature - remember Albert Tatlock - is covered in lipstick; old hydraulics are stirring.
The girl of the moment - just think Jo Brand drawn by Beryl Cook, only Northern - says "Would you like to come up for some coffee?" You can write the rest yourself: "What sort of a man d'you think I am?" says Moaney (think ghost of Bill Owen). "Oo" says the Fat Slag, sighing on the pavement.
And you can write the pay-off line too. Only Tetley will do. Men turn down sex for our product/wouldn't give a 4X for anything else. I smell a defensive strategy. Forget for one nanosecond any metropolitan fattist judgements; here's a basic life-form - not a humorous hunk - that clearly hasn't had the chance to pleasure a lady friend in decades, and he turns it down for loyalty to tea? You're never alone with a Strand.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments