People really do love it or hate it. Usually when products make a claim it's a little spurious. Not so with this one, some people really, really love it.

I've seen people around the dark, best avoided back streets of Kings Cross, in London. Young men with old men’s eyes and hollow cheeks, talking to better-fed guys in conspicuously thick gold chains and leather jackets. “Go on mate,” Pleads the withered face “I just need one lick. One lick mate. Go on mate, I brought my own spoon. "

Conversely, when people don’t like it, they really, really don't. I have offered good friends of mine a slice of toast and Marmite and I'm sure I've said "Do you want some Marmite toast?"

From the look of disgust on their face all they’ve heard is, "Would you like me to shoot your Grandmother and defecate into the wound?"

So obviously now I have to consider the moral implications of what I've written.

I'm talking about the product, not the wholly distasteful Grandmother comment. You see I'm not just mentioning a condiment; I'm advertising (ish) a product and putting money into some corporation’s pocket. So I should at least know whose pocket I'm lining shouldn't I? But how do you tell? They're all constantly merging, like some kind of enormous ethereal corporate shag-fest, slowly conglomerating into one huge entity. The moment they all finally all come together, I'm sure black clouds will gather in an already ashen sky, thunder will crash and the one true power will reveal itself to us, its willing slaves. We’ll stand on the filthy streets, crane our bent and broken necks to look up, slack-jawed and see, one thousand feet tall, clad from head to tail in impregnable black armour, the fattest, widest grinning Cheshire Cat you have ever seen. The ultimate fat cat.
Probably.