Juicy

On the back of my exotic fruit drink is a note that reads 'if this product is not entirely satisfactory please call 0800 yada whatnot'. Now entirely satisfactory? Entirely? I mean, c'mon, it's drinkable, it's not making me gag here, I'm keeping it down, but am I entirely satisfied? Well... I think that comes down to your definition of exotic. That there is a rather airy fairy adjective of a word, there's a lot of leverage there, a whole room of maneuver. For example, to those who go for nothing but margherita on their pizza, and ask for scampi at the curry house, exotic could mean a bit of Worcester sauce on their cheese on toast. Whereas the star-keeper at the Michelin committee probably has a rather more select palette, a palette that might be considerably offended by this dilution of concentrated second-rate rotting fruit pulp. On a personal level, I would have to say for 89 pence this carton sates my immediate needs, much like a McDonald's quells my late-night hunger pangs, but still I find myself yearning for that extra £1.76 to spend, so I could splash out on a top-of-the-range luxury beverage, Tropicana for example. If I had that sort of money, then I'm sure satisfaction in its entirety would be available to me.