Additives

The label of my lime juice cordial proclaims "No additives." This is written in large letters. In other words, all I'm getting is lime juice cordial, nothing more. Obviously, then, the manufacturer is basically saying to me, "Fuck you if you wanted anything extra, that's all we're prepared to give you. And fuck your sister, too, for that matter, you cunt."

Some would argue, of course, that what we are actually meant to infer from this is that additives are a bad thing, and that the manufacturer of the cordial is, in fact, claiming to be doing me a favour by not putting them in. Well fuck you, arsehole. If this were true, and they did indeed detract from the overall drinking experience, then, surely, they'd be called, not additives, but "subtractives." That makes perfect sense to me, anyway.

It's clear, therefore, that additives are actually like the composite element of a blended Scotch. In other words, the blend - be it Johnny Walker Red, Bell's, Teacher's, or whatever â - is, in reality, inferior to each of its constituent ingredients. Although there might be a hint of Oban here and touch of Laphroaig there, the overall thing will never be equal to the sum of its parts.

Now that this Truth has been revealed unto me, I shall seek out the "pure malts" of the additive world. I crave a full bottle of E332. My taste buds yearn for E447. In fact I shall lay down a whole crate of Phenylalanine Acesulfame K, in the certain knowledge that, in years to come, not only will it yield an unparalleled taste sensation, but it will be worth a fucking fortune.