If It Walks Like a Duck and Talks Like a Duck, It’s Probably Some New Kind of Duck You Won’t LikePosted: July 4, 2011
Dear Nestle Milo,
What’s happened to us? I remember the days we used to spend together. After each swimming lesson as a child I would eagerly anticipate some quality time with my very favourite Milo Bar. My gumby little uncoordinated feet paddling fervently over the wet floor of the swimming centre reception to the vending machine. My toes scrunching up in anticipation against the tiles as I watched my Mum put in the money and saw you drop down like some kind of gift from the Gods. Oh Milo Bar, you were so charming- straightforward, honest and comforting. I still remember the crunch as I would bite into you, feeling your milo-y goodness giving me back all the energy I spent swimming, whilst satisfying the chocolate yearnings that plagued me.
The dry milo would soften in my mouth and become all gooey with the chocolate. It was like a magical dance, an extraordinary union as each element combined to create the ultimate in chocolate bar experiences. And it was that love which carried us forward, into my teenage years and even my twenties. We were such good friends. The best of friends.
But now? Now I sit and weep. You’ve changed Milo Bar. Now you’re filled with caramel, rice crispies and betrayal. I can’t eat you anymore. I don’t know what makes me feel more sick- the caramel or the taste of my salty salty tears. Even worse- in the face of such caramelly sumptuous sickliness, instead of being able to deceive myself into believing that I was somehow eating a chocolate bar and being healthy at the same time, I can no longer sustain such an illusion even if I could somehow deal with how gross caramel is. Sigh.
I feel as though you’ve lost your unique original charm. The Milo Bar. A shining beacon of simplicity that remains unmatched by other chocolate bars. Others can’t, nor would they dare, create a chocolate bar so simple yet so perfect. I tried to love the new you, I really did…but to no avail.
Vainly I attempt to recreate you, spooning Milo into my glass and eating it plain, or softening it with the tiniest drops of water. Foolish, foolish me! I know it’s never the same, and sometimes I even accidentally inhale when I’m eating the dry Milo and it gets sucked into my throat and I choke, yet I keep trying in the hope it will somehow transform into that delightful beacon of joy I have always loved rather than the sad little imposter of a death trap I can create.
I’m not the only one who misses you. You have so many friends who seek you daily, missing you, crying in confectionary aisles and beating their breasts. Did you know there are thousands of people signing petitions and joining facebook groups in some meagre and desperate attempt to share their grief over your loss? To somehow, in some way, bring you back to us? Yet I fear that you are lost forever.
I don’t mean to pressure you Nestle. I don’t mean to be so negative. I just miss my old friend so much.
I think there’s something you need to see. It might be hard for you, but I think it’s necessary.
I’d embed that if I knew how. But I don’t. I don’t know how to do anything anymore.
This has been emotional for both of us so I think I’ll end this here with some slightly adapted lyrics from Sinead O’Connor:
It’s been so lonely without you here
Like a bird without a song (aaaAAAaaaa)
Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling
Tell me baby where did I go wrong?
I could put my mouth around every chocolate bar I see
But they’d only remind me of you (aaaAAAaaaa)
I went to the doctor and guess what he told me?
Guess what he told me?
He said, girl, you better try to have fun
No matter what you do
But he’s a fool …
‘Cause nothing compares …
Nothing compares to you …
Farewell my ne’er forgotten friend, I will continue to pray for your return.