We have a cellar full of Marmite. Luckily it’s fully contained in those nice jars that Marmite comes in. It’s only unlucky, because we don’t really need to buy any more Marmite for the foreseeable future.
I don’t like Marmite. Neither does Horrid Henry, which rather surprised me. Silly of me, as I’ve already mentioned what a sensible boy he is. Why should he fall for that ridiculous notion that Marmite really is much nicer than its smell would lead you to believe? That’s for his silly brother to do. Perfect Peter does like that foul-smelling, dark brown substance.
By now the people at Marmite and at Orion will be up in arms, and probably Philip Ardagh, too, although he has nothing to do with Henry. But I will admit that Marmite and Orion have come up with a good idea. You buy Marmite – if you must – and then you can download a total of five free Horrid Henry audiobooks. If you buy five jars, that is, which sounds a little OTT.
There has been no end to Horrid Henry in these parts. As if the story collection I mentioned the other day wasn’t enough, Marmite-hater Henry has an annual, too. Naturally.
Horrid Henry’s Annual 2010, illustrated by Tony Ross as usual, has a lot in it. I’d say that any Henry fan would enjoy the tricks, jokes, quizzes and whatnot. Even an old witch feels all twitchy when eyeing the wordsearches and the things to make.
But Marmite is so ingenious! Get the black sludge that is the by-product of the brewing process, jar it, and sell it. Selling a waste product – it’s the ultimate business dream.
Personally I love Marmite, but then I love bitter ales too. My theory is that you either like both or neither, but I expect to be challenged on that quite soon.
Now that you mention it, it is clever. Still smells, however. And it is a migraine trigger, I’ll have you know. But the jar is very attractive.
Well, if you should feel like sharing a picture with some of your nice jars, I would be very happy to steal it (the photo of the jars, that is, not the content).
I wouldn´t know how horrible Marmite is, and I have no plans to change that fact. Well, perhaps if Denmark should be struck by a famine …
Trust me, you’d rather starve to death, Dorte!
Will see about snapping a jar for you. My solution is to put chutney in the jars once someone has eaten all the revolting Marmite.
I like Marmite (and Bitter, so maybe Nick is on to something) But who could possibly get through enough Marmite to need 5 jars within the timescale of the promotion?
I can make a jar of marmite last for years. (Although it never goes off, so I suppose one could buy 5 jars now and then not buy anymore for the next 5 years or so. . .)
The Resident IT Consultant’s cousin has fond memories of visiting him when he was a child, because they had a Marmite jar the size of a bucket, or so I gather. That, apparently, was absolute heaven.
People eating Marmite, or even just their act of spreading it on bread, should go outside with the smokers.
Hate to plug (no, I don’t) my just out book: the Mish-Mash Dictionary of Marmite: an anecdotal A-Z of ‘Tar-in-a-Jar’. It will suit all tastes! Plenty of info to delight the ‘lovers’, plenty of ammo for the ‘loathers’ to throw at them! Have to confess, that after spending six months with my head in a Marmite jar, ‘am still a fan. But no where near as obsessed as some!
Maggie Hall