Pourin’ One Out For The Rangas

Everybody knows that “Red Heads,” “Gingers” or, to use the politically correct term, “Rangas,” aren’t the same as regular humans. They tend to be more afraid of sunlight than Edward Cullen but without the attractiveness and superhuman strength to back it up, their skin seems unnaturally determined to turn the same colour as their hair at every mildly embarrassing moment, and I’m not sure but I’m guessing that they’re less good at all the cool things like hopscotch and Spiderman Monopoly and regular Monopoly and cartwheels and blogging. Which is probably why they’re a dying breed and will be extinct in 100 years, just like dinosaurs or Louie the Mortine fly.

Still, having once been confused for a Red Head – which is weird mostly because my hair is not red - I can identify with the underdogs of the gene pool. Life must be tough knowing that the odds are always against you. Which is why we’ve created a salute to our disadvantaged brothers and sisters with a brand spanken new Organic Ginger Beer.

Although much more attractive and awesome than its human namesakes, like them, Ginger Beer’s had to fight for survival. Sooo many obstacles that it’s had to outwit, outplay and outlast (it probably wasn’t fair that we sent it out into the jungle on rice rations and kept offering it a spoonful of peanut butter and a hot-dog in exchange for immunity and a chance to become the ultimate Survivor, but as Ron Weasley or Ginger Spice will tell you, life’s not always fair). Anyway, just like the tormented career of Lindsay Lohan, Ginger Beer built us up with the piggy-tailed innocence of Parent Trap and then tore us down with its inability to get out of a taxi without flashing its private parts and its you’re-not-fooling-anyone blonde highlights. One day I’d be promised Ginger Beer within the fortnight, the next it was a mere phantom of a thing, a ghostly whisper echoing in a licked-clean peanut butter jar abandoned in the Amazon.

It reminds me of the time my brother told me that if I pulled my tooth out and left it under my pillow I’d get five bucks from the Tooth Fairy because the market for adult teeth is much more lucrative than the fledgling baby teeth one. Well, the Tooth Fairy never came and now I’m tired because I was only pretending to be asleep last night so that I could see her and I’m also a little concerned because I googled it and it seems that adult teeth don’t grow back like baby teeth do and my brother’s not taking my calls and he said I wasn’t allowed to tell Mum or the whole operation would be a bust, which if you ask me, it is anyway and I think I’ll stick to my guaranteed cash cow  (rainbow-end hunting) from now on.

Luckily, unlike my cheque from the Tooth Fairy, our Organic Ginger Beer really did arrive this morning! And even though the newly exposed nerve endings in my gums tingle in the hurty way every time I take a sip, I can’t get enough!! So get on board the ginger train! And whenever you take a swig of the coolest soft drink going round, spare a thought for our disadvantaged fire-haired brethren, and then thank your lucky stars that you’re not one.


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