Knitmedic

I was attempting to crochet some flowers this morning, when Nana walked in and switched on the TV, flicking straight to his favourite Bangla channel. After a few minutes, he got bored and walked off, leaving on some endless infomercial type ad. The next ad that came on got my attention though, it was advertising the miracle product that is Rupa Omri (I think that's what it was called anyway). Here are some of the fantastic testimonials:

"Before no-one would give me a job, but since I started using Rupa Omri, my boss wants me to marry his daughter and has given me a promotion!"

"Now, no-one believes I'm South Indian, after only one month the difference is amazing"

"Before my husband was too embarrassed to take me out because he's fair and i'm dark, but now he takes me out all the time! I feel so beautiful"

And so on. It was absolutely ludicrous, and quite blatantly racist. The idea was, if you aren't fair, you won't get a husband/wife, a job, friends or any respect from society. I was so appalled that when the number flashed up on the screen, I decided to call and give them a piece of my mind. It was a good thing I was so worked up because I was caller number 11 in the queue, as the automated American voice kept telling me. Imagine that - 10 people actually wanted to buy this junk! The wait was only 4 minutes supposedly, but strangely kept getting longer and longer so that after 20 minutes (I ironed my clothes and had tea while waiting) there were somehow seven minutes left. I did plan to put the phone down but then I kept thinking of that poor South Indian bloke (you're South Indian! That's how you LOOK! Deal with it!) and decided that justice had to be done on behalf of all the melanin-challenged of this world.

When I finally got through, some poor woman on the other end was subjected to (what was for me) a tirade about my disgust at Bangla TV showing an ad like that in this day and age, and how it was racist and so on...She was fairly bemused at all this, and attempted to remonstrate with me, pointing out the myriad advantages of the cream and also the 100% money back guarantee. This didn't go down too well with me, and when it came to the point where I demanded the ad be removed from our tv screens, I heard a tiny click on the other end of the phone. And then a dial tone.

It was quite liberating having a hissy fit, being normally a fairly mild-mannered person, especially in such a worthy cause (Pink will remember another occasion in Birchfields Park when I released my Inner Lion). I urge you all to write a letter of complaint to Bangla TV, or better still, call 0800 066 4522 (i think) and have a pop at them yourselves.