I love living in Melbourne, I really truly do.
It's frenetic, interesting, grotty-but-gritty, chock-full of culture, cuisines, crazies, carers and cars and top notch reading materials. It provides great opportunities for those who seek them, transport to anywhere, festivals, noise, traffic, shops, laughs and food to eat and food for thought. Alright? Good: it's now firmly established that Melbourne is a great place to live, work, love, lounge, loaf and sleep.
But..... and this is a really, really big BUT.
BUT, Big M Iced Coffee is an insult and an abomination to this fair city. It is an insult to describe this sickly syrup as 'iced coffee' when it is often found alongside its far-superior South Australian step-cousin (by marriage only), the magnificent Farmers Union Iced Coffee.
How have these gentle, supportive, open-minded Victorians put up with such a below-average beverage for so long?
What does the 'M' stand for, Mediocre?
Muck? Mud? Mess? Malignant? Malformed? Menial? Mirthless? Misleading?
Oh there's so many other words, but I've lost interest in looking in the dictionary after 'mi' because the truth is there: Big M is a mind-numbing mistake manufactured in a midden making mawkish manure now monikered as Big M. Yes, you heard me. Big M.
I even tried it blindfolded to compare it with FUIC and that Rush stuff but when (as discovered later) the Big M was tasted, I couldn't even tell what flavour it was, it was that ordinary. It might as well have been full fat milk with some brickies' spit in it for all that it resembled a decent, well-made and tasty iced coffee.
The irony is that National Foods make them both. I'm assuming that one side of their factory is assigned to staff who've had their salivary glands, taste buds and brains forcibly removed with the dairy's teat suction cups before being shoved like dag-infested sheep into the dank and dark recesses of the factory to use the sour milk slops, septic tank overflow and cow-poo residue to somehow slosh together and pour into Big M cartons.
The other half, on the other hand, are enjoying a pre-work massage, receiving a hearty handshake and an individual message of congratulations by the CEO before walking into the cool and sun-lit work space that is being entertained by a world-class string quartet as they commence their magic work. Like the Oompah Loompahs, what they do is a strict secret, but does involve taking the creme-de-la-creme of Australia's finest milk, some coffee and their mysterious blend of other ingredients together, saying a revered blessing over the drink before gently and respectfully pouring it into Farmers Union Iced Coffee cartons for the delectation of intelligent, talented and good looking iced coffee drinkers everywhere.
Apart from solving the mystery of Mr P, I also intend on confronting the schizophrenic minds at National Foods to find out why Big M is still being shamelessly flung all over Victoria when they should instead be putting all of their efforts towards furthering the FUIC cause instead. Stay tuned dear reader, justice for iced coffee lovers everywhere will one day occur.