The Great Jif Conspiracy

September 3, 2005

Not so long ago, in a country not so far away, a major re-branding exercise was undertaken. “Jif” that slightly sinister white fluid that was just the thing for the quarterly cleaning of the bath but left your hands feeling really funny, was renamed “Cif”, a spectacularly pointless and unnecessary change, about as popular as the renaming of Marathon to Snickers, or the partition of Germany.

The reason cited for this painful but necessary realignment of reality? Apparently in Europe, Jif was already known as Cif, and it was cheaper to change the name in the country not so far away too.

So I came to Norway, and sitting on the shelves were bottles of… Jif. I was stunned, flabbergasted. The whole Cif thing had been a terrible lie. Jif was still Jif in Europe, but in the country it was INVENTED in, it had been renamed! What perfidious fate, what dreadful, er something else.

It became clear to me that this was a conspiracy, a conspiracy to rid the UK of any distinguishing characteristics by removing familiar parts of our cultural landscape and replacing them with made up bollocks.

For instance, the silver paper on Kit-Kats.

This conspiracy has nothing to do with Europe; as Jif is still Jif here. Europe is oblivious to us. So it must be for some other reason. Shits and giggles perhaps.

As it turns out, Jif is called Jif in Bulgaria too. So presumably it is in the rest of Europe. Perhaps next year I shall embark on a great Jif Exploration of Europe to settle the matter once and for all.


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