1. Ain't no party like a crispbread party
You know the ad: a group of ladies get together in their pastel coloured smock tops for some sort of weird rye-based social gathering and between bites make the kind of bitchy comments to each other that, as long as it's followed with a laugh, is just a joke (but not really). These are the Ryvita women, and they are the personal embodiment of the very product they are trying to sell: dry, bland, hard to stomach and not welcome at fun parties.
If you ever turn up at your friend's house and she's put on an arid spread of Ryvita and reduced fat dips then that woman is not your friend. What, is she saving the crusty rolls and kettle crisps for her better friends? I mean sure, you can dip the crispbreads into soup or smother it in low-fat cream cheese, but in reality nothing is going to stop you choking back their dust and wishing that you were putting a warm baguette in and around your mouth. I'm pretty sure Ryvita is what they use to make bunk beds in prison. No word of a lie. If someone blindfolded me and placed a pumpkin seed Ryvita in my mouth, followed by a small, rectangular piece of MDF, then put a gun to my head and told me to say which one was the Ryvita, I would be a dead woman.
2. Spicy food makes us sexy sweat
I'm looking at you, Kate Upton. This is all your fault. So now getting burger sauce down my dolphin fleece isn't sexy? Give me a break! Ever since that infamous Carl's Jr advert I'm somehow expected to eat a burger without getting relish all over my chin and mangled in my hair. I'm supposed to eat jalepenos like they're a sensual treat and they don't make me want to pour milk all over my lips and face. I love a spicy burger as much as the next Upton but if you see me eating one in my car there will be no sweat lingering seductively on my heaving breasts. No, it'll be meandering down from my hairline and into my eyes, streaking mascara across my damp cheeks. I begin eating as myself, I finish as Marilyn Manson.
3. We eat all chocolate-based foods in private with our eyes shut
Eating chocolate is not like sneezing, your eyes aren't going to fly out in a bloody mess if they're open when you pop a piece in your mouth. I mean, I like chocolate mousse just fine but it's not orgasmic. It's not 'naughty'. It's just chocolate mousse. I don't need to clamp my eyes shut to fully appreciate the taste. The same goes for, say, a bar of Galaxy. I don't think women really feel the urge to conceal chocolate under the sofa like we're all fourteen year old boys hiding our secret stash of porn that we found in a bush. Furthermore, you don't have to look over your shoulder before you open it like you're Charlie Bucket. There's not going to be a hoard of women clawing at your back with their eyes shut at the mere tearing of the wrapper. In reality, the kind of people putting chocolate in a secret hiding place to devour in the middle of the night are the ones who get caught devouring a stick of butter on the kitchen floor at 2am and claim they were "just sleepwalking again".
4. Lambrini girls just want to have fun
No way. Lambrini girls want a fight.
5. Yoghurts are exciting and provocative
Stop trying to make Mullerlicious happen, Nicole Scherzinger - it's not going to happen.
Scherzy sold her soul to the Muller devil and now she's stuck trying to make bacterial fermentation look sexy. This year an American PHD student tried to make yoghurt from her vaginal secretions. Do you still think yoghurts are hot, Nicole? Does that excite you? Does that make you want to say "coco-dusted balls of deliciousness" with all the sexual insinuation of a Loose Women panelist? No, it doesn't. Because yoghurts are shit. I mean, come on Activia: Prune flavour? Fibre flavour? I'm on a diet, not ninety. The millennial woman needs a probiotic that appeals to her sophisticated palate. Perhaps a nice, sweet White Zinfandel flavour would hit the spot.
If Activia has taught us anything, it's that women can only poop once they've eaten a yoghurt. (Is that why we're so damn excited by them?) We sit, curled up on the sofa in our colourful cashmere jumpers, our poor tummies gassy and bloated. We savour the fibre-y goodness and enjoy a few pages of the latest Cecelia Ahern novel whilst we wait for the world to fall out of our arse. Better make it quick though, because Gok Wan and Martine McCutcheon can smell those live cultures (of the yoghurt) a mile off and before you know it they'll be outside your house, holding up a boom box that's blasting Spencer Davis Group's Gimme Some Lovin' on your front lawn.