March 19


So there I was yesterday on my daily call with Connor when I heard an eerie wailing start up just at the threshold of hearing.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

For a moment I thought it was our ancient Llewellin Setter, Roy, howling to be let back into the house, but quickly discounted that idea: he does howl… but not like that.

So, call over, I went back into the house.

“Mrs EBG,”, I said as she emerged hair-adrip from the downstairs bathroom, “have you by any chance been… err… howling?”

Turns out she had.

Turns out Mrs EBG is on some bizarre morning routine.

Turns out you stand in an ice cold shower for a couple of minutes, set it to warm for another couple, and then back to icy cold again for a bit. She even washed her hair under the icy stream (and there’s a lot of it — kinda resembles a medium-sized poodle-like mammal sitting on her head, but don’t tell her I said that).

She says it’s invigorating and whatnot.

Hmm. I can assume only it’s a bit like slapping your bellend with a fish-slice: it feels great when you stop.

Turns out I think Mrs EBG has finally lost the fucking plot (can’t blame the girl — she’s married to me, after all).

My point?

I don’t have one. 

There’s no deep and meaningful marketing business message in this.

I just wanted to share with you how bonkers my wife is.

And then encourage you to join us for the Ground Zero initiative and save your own sanity from the clusterfuck of the High Street Apocalypse.

I mean… it will be something of a wake-up call for you, but there will be NO fucking cold showers involved, I promise.

Click here for Ground Zero details.


P.S. Speaking of showers… it reminds me of the story Mrs EBG told me about some of her Internet Dating experiences before we met the same way.

She’s sitting there having a drink with a bloke and he’s asking her about herself and stuff, and for some reason she answers “Golden showers?” for a joke.

Turns out he had no sense of humour and she didn’t see him again.

Laugh, we nearly voted Labour.

My own experiences were somewhat stranger. Just after I started seeing Mrs EBG I was approached by TWO different women from the Cambridge area. Both were farmer’s wives and both were looking for a bit on the side.

One of them sent me a pic of her tending her cattle. To be frank, it was hard to tell which was which.

Anyway… that’s enough musing for one day.

You want to grow your biz, and leave all the pissing, moaning, wailing, and gnashing of teeth at the big out of town cheapo stores and “online predators” like Amazon to the spineless dweebs who aspire to your greatness?

Then you know what to do.

Click here for Ground Zero details.


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