Someone had to put down the words that are to follow. I am just sad that it had to be a Yorkshireman.
Tetley, established 1837, has lost its way in the year AD 2015. It’s the ‘range’, see.
Let’s spell it out: Green, ‘Super Green’ whatever the fuck that is (in four different fruity aromas), the ‘Blend Collection’ (including a treacherous ‘Blend of Both’ using both Original and Green teas), Redbush, Earl Grey, Peppermint, Camomile. Is that better, Tetley? I do not think so.
Tetley is not supposed to have a ‘range’. Black tea, to drink with lashings of milk to taste, that’s it. That’s your ‘range’. It has been a struggle to even accept that Tetley is offering several tea options – but now I accept that acceptance is the only way to get this seminal future warning from history into being.
This is not to say that I haven’t betrayed my Yorkshire roots to develop a heavy interest in tea alternatives, some of which may easily be termed “poncy”. I have. There have been times when I have strayed far from my home county’s vicious, righteous tea philosophies – perhaps towards a ‘winter-themed’ Chai in a cafe near Watford, for example. But I am a weak, bendable human, subject to environmental influences. You, Tetley are more than that: A bastion of hot beverage conservatism that must be preserved at all cost.
The availability of poncy teas of all kinds does not bother me at all. I just wouldn’t buy such teas from Tetley. OK, I did one time try its mint tea when it was on offer and I was unobservant of anything beyond the reduced label. For the record, it’s no fucking good; insipid at best. My weakness does not make your weakness any better, Tetley.
What would your founding fathers Joseph and Edward think of you now, Tetley? You and your ‘range’? Would they be wowed by your diversification in the face of commercial challengers? No. Would they fuck. They’d rather see Tetley die on its pure, pure sword and go back to selling salt from a pack horse than besmirch itself in this game.
Let’s compromise, Tetley: I can turn a blind eye to a ‘range’ of three, but only the following three: original, decaf, extra strong. Do not forsake the children.
I will now walk away from my keyboard, tutting.