ME AND SQUEEZY MARMITE

Well it was inevitable wasn’t it, that me and Squeezy Marmite would end up having a falling out.

Things were great to begin with. From that moment in Sainsbury’s when I said ‘Hullo there,’ and Squeezy Marmite just looked at me from the shelf, things had been amazing! We quickly bonded over toast and butter, and soon became the firmest and sweetest of friends.

They were good times - me with my mug of boiling milk, three scoops of chocolate powder, and a dash of navy rum; Squeezy Marmite, happily lounging across an English muffin. And how we laughed when Squeezy accidentally jazzed up a dull old spag bol. It wasn’t long before I’d forgotten the bad old days of scraping out the jar and setting my teeth on edge with the knife and the glass-bottom. Squeezy Marmite helped me forget all that. Squeezy Marmite was lovely.

But of course, the honeymoon is over. Squeezy Marmite is whiny and unresponsive. It feels like the more I squeeze, the less I get, yet I know that Squeezy Marmite, my Squeezy Marmite, is far from empty! But all it does these days is wheeze and squeak. The hot butter melts through the muffin before there’s a chance, the chocolate goes cold, and the toast is tasteless with just Lurpack on it. Squeezy Marmite is full of only air, and a small reservoir of unreachable, unsqueezable, unrequitable yeast extract.

So that might be it for me and Squeezy Marmite. I might... oh it pains me to say... have to go back to the glass jar, the scraping and the uncomfortable feeling that I’ll never get it all out.

I’m sorry, Squeezy Marmite. It’s that or it’s marmalade - and we both know it’s not the same. But I promise I’ll remember the good times.

We’ll always have the memories.