Our first encounter was seven weeks, six days, five hours, three minutes and 57 seconds ago. Not that I’m counting.
You had me at hello. Literally. I got an email from a colleague at work with ‘Hello’, and a fateful note asking if I’d like to sample a new product by Air Wick called V.I.Poo.
V.I.Who? Yes, like any normal adult with a somewhat functioning sense of humour, I laughed at the word “poo”. But you weren’t joking.
Yes, you were dead serious about your goal in life: to be the greatest pre-poo toilet spray that ever existed. Your mysterious ways lured me in. I wondered, how exactly do you trap those embarrassing odours in the bowl? How come the air afterwards smells like no-one has even been in the toilet?
Our relationship escalated fast. I’m fully aware of how silly this sounds. You taught me that a generous spray before you take a seat can make the world of difference. It was an Oprah-esque “Aha!” moment.
Before I knew it, I was sharing you with the entire office (here was our experiment). I’d gifted my mum and sister with V.I.Poos for their birthdays. My partner felt affectionate towards you too as you sat up there by the flush, patiently guarding our throne like a Beefeater at Buckingham Palace.