Saturday 23 April 2011

Dead Dad Club


I’m from a single parent family. I never knew who my dad was, I asked my mum once. Mum, who’s my Dad? Who’s my dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad? Who’s my Dad?

The guy who played the green giant wasn’t quite what I was looking for, yet on appearances it could be plausible. I'd met him in Safeway's in the Spring. 

I wrote him a letter. Well I wrote a sweetcorn distributor a letter.

Dear Jolly Green Giant

I think you might be my Dad

RSVP Victoria McGlynn, 4 Manor Drive, Blackpool.

P.S. How tall are you?

Quite a formal letter for a 5 year old, but I met the balance by sending a Roland Orzabel and Curt Smith of Tears for Fears a drawing of us watching telly together. We were having so much fun!

If you’re going to write one letter to a giant and contain one question you’re not going to waste it on asking him why he’s green are you? Well that might be question number 2, but certainly height is the top answer.

1 How tall are you?
2 Why are you green?
3 Do you struggle to find shoes in your size?
4 How big are your feet?
5 Erm...Can you lift a fat man?

I was once chatted up by a man who was half Dutch, half stilts. His head was as big as a window, and he was so tall he was bent over me like a lamppost. I thought if he could invade my personal space any further he’d have absorbed me. 

I didn’t get a reply from the Jolly Green Giant, but as a surrogate he remains rather admirable; he hits his veg, laughs a lot, and has a general pleasant demeanour. Plus he could stamp on any adversary with his passive joviality, claiming it to be an accident, again. 

Oh Dad!

And this is the reason why I maintain my brand loyalty to Green Giant. Damn those marketeers and their fictitious male role models. 

Ho ho ho. 

Sorry Dad.

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