Cleaning up world health, spotlessly

In an idle moment on New Year’s Day, I was pondering the old adage about cleanliness being next to godliness. That prompted me to sit down at my computer and write a letter to the World Health Organisation:

Dear World Health Organisation

It is my pleasant duty to inform the WHO Committee for Global Hygiene and Killing All Known Germs Dead, that South Africa is now on the verge of being the first completely sterile nation on earth. Yes, I know HIV/Aids is out of control, but by heavens, our kitchens are spotless.

A bit of advice on this outstanding breakthrough, however. If you’re thinking of conferring some sort of honour on the country’s medical researchers, don’t even think about it. It is South Africa’s marketers and television channels who are responsible for this quite remarkable breakthrough.

It all started about ten years ago when a diabolically clever aerosol salesman saw the writing on the wall vis-a-vis the ozone layer being seriously depleted by his product. So he decided to diversify into something that local consumers would simply be forced to buy out of sheer terror.

The idea came to him late one night after a huge party to celebrate his fifth consecutive “Most Persistent Salesperson of the Year” award when he had his head halfway down the U-bend of a Stasie Hotel lavatory in an effort to bring up 16 draft beers, a bottle and a half of Chateau Brakpan Cabernet and a quart of crème de menthe. “Lavatories,” he thought. “That’s where my future lies — lavatories”

So he developed all sorts of products to toss into lavatory cisterns, hook on to the edge of lavatory pans and that could reach into every possible nook and cranny to obliterate germs with every flush.

At the same time he harnessed the power of television to point out to South Africans the frightening array of deadly bacterial livestock that had taken up residence in their loos.

The nation heeded his warning with such gusto that in KwaZulu Natal, for example, 200km2 of Indian Ocean adjacent the main Durban sewage outfall pipe turned bright blue and thousands of citizens who were previously allergic to shellfish were able to climb into plates of paella with absolute impunity.

Our salesman, now elevated by his peers to the level of marketing guru, was on a roll. He moved from lavatory pans to drains, and once again harnessed the nation’s television channels to show us all the indescribable dangers lurking in our drains. We responded immediately and, as the commercial put it, killed them dead.

Since then he has been unstoppable. We are now told that those little sponge things with the abrasive green stuff on one side and which we have used for years to clean pots, pans and kitchen surfaces, are so deadly they relegate Legionnaire’s disease to the danger level of a blind pimple.

He has given us a bath soap that envelopes us in an invisible shroud of sanitation to ward off all those bacterial baddies that make us sick or cause our armpits to smell.

But, that’s not all. We now have television commercials telling us about household cleaning products that can obliterate viruses.

Oho, I thought that would get your attention! How about that? All the medical brains in the world haven’t been able to find a cure for the common cold but, hey presto, a simple South African salesman has not only managed to find a way of nailing all manner of virus to the wall but can at the same time leave your entire home smelling like roses or anything from pine forests to freshly baked bread.

But even that is not all. You can invite your dinner guests to partake of their soup out of your lavatory pan and risk exposing them to no greater danger than the seat perhaps falling on their heads as they strain to lick up the last morsel.

So, that’s the good news. The bad news, I fear, is that any day now some poor child is going to venture out of the sterile environment that is her home and inadvertently touch something in the garden. What worries me is that the poor child’s immune system won’t know what has hit it and the kid could contract some ghastly disease. And I ask you, how can we be sure our doctors are anywhere near as clever as our marketers?

Antiseptically yours,
Chris

PS: Please wash your hands before replying to this letter.