Not to brag, but I’ve always considered myself a bit of an “amateur physician.” I say amateur, but I’m actually much better than that. Except for a degree and a licence and actual paid work at a hospital or wherever, I’m pretty much a professional level lifesaving doctor. I first knew I would be a really good doctor who would never need training when I was nine and I treated myself for the chickenpox by staying home and watching cartoons and drinking orange cordial for a week. And I haven’t had a single chicken pock since! Not one! A child prodigy! And I’ve never ever been sick again. Except for on Tuesday afternoons when Adam gives me a stress headache and I have to go home and watch Deal Or No Deal. And I always get really bad tummy aches every time it’s my turn to sweep the warehouse. But that’s all ever.

So you can imagine that when news started getting around the warehouse that there was a new tonic in town, I assumed – like I always do about everything – that people were talking about me. I would sit in staff meetings and pretend to blush while people were talking about how much they love Tonic and how good Tonic was looking and what kind of lid Tonic should have… “It’s me!” I would think, keeping my eyes lowered bashfully, “they’re obviously talking about me! They’ve heard about the chicken pox miracle and their adoration has manifested in this cool new nickname. Tonic. I should get hats printed…” 

Determined to live up to all my new hype, I’ve been doing a lot more diagnosing around the office. My keen surgical eye noticed Adam scratching at his wrist yesterday and close examination revealed that he was going to have to lose the arm. If only he’d come to old Tonic sooner what started as a mosquito bite might have been easily treated with cordial (probably raspberry) and a daily dose of Andrew O’Keefe. But Adam didn’t come to me and he was going to pay the princely price of one human arm. At first he seemed to be resisting my help as though he’s too good for free and perfect medical treatment?? And then he continued to seem to be resisting and he resisted all the way out of my practically legitimate medical practice. Have fun keeping both your arms Adam. I don’t think you’ll regret that decision at all when you’re awake for at least the next two nights scratching your wrist, Adam. It’s a serious shame too because the truck drivers were so excited to be nurses for the afternoon that they painted a red cross and put lights on top of one of the trucks which I’d told them probably wasn’t even legal. What should definitely be illegal is how good they all looked in the uniforms I got. One of them had the audacity to suggest that there are lots of boy nurses now and even the girl ones don’t wear dresses anymore, particularly ones that are so low cut. Um, excuse me, have you ever even been to Halloween? Pass the gauze.

Anyway, some lame story about me sneaking into the back of Adam’s car to surprise saw his arm off and several OH&S breeches later, it would seem that I am not the tonic everyone was talking about putting a lid on. Even though I’ve never heard of a “drink” being described as “tasty” apparently we have two “tasty” new “drinks” to introduce to everyone (I mean, it’s not just me right? If you heard someone say “the new Tonic labels look incredible” you’d assume they were talking about me too, yeah?) Still, it’s my “absolute” “pleasure” to introduce our new Soda and Tonic waters. Did they steal my nickname? Maybe. Did they out dress me? Some would say. But did they hide out in the back of Adam’s car for an entire Wednesday just so they could jump out wielding a pizza slicer ready to chop off a limb and give the man final relief from an itchy wrist? No, they didn’t. And when you’re enjoying one of our “tasty” new drinks, I urge you to remember that. Tonic out.