How dare they!

Page may contain affiliate links. Please see terms for details.

Domus

Guru
Location
Sunny Radcliffe
It is more serious than that.
Mrs Domus is type 1 diabetic and Lucozade is / was her favourite tipple when her blood sugar drops too low.
The new stuff just does not do it for her, so the search is on for a quick and easy remedy.

Edit to say sorry for repeating the post above re Diabetes
 
OP
OP
Drago

Drago

Legendary Member
So, the makers of Lucozade have annoyed the sugar junkies, and endangered the diabetics. Nice.

I've had to resort to a bottle of Pepsi. Its nice as an occasional sweet treat, but its not the same. These eejuts are ruining peoples lives :sad:
 
I can never think of sugar free sweets without thinking of this review of sugar free Gummi bears on Amazon

I'm pretty sure Andrea (I'll call her) agreed to have dinner at my apartment only because I always spoke to her using nothing but my two-years-of-high-school German. Her English was perfect. Probably better than mine. But the fact that I could only ask her directions to the Autobahn or inquire about the health of her non-existent Tante Amelia, seemed to make me appealing to her in a sweet and non-threatening way.
My intentions, however, were considerably less child-like. Which is why the shopping that night was done at one of those upscale groceries with an international flair. Moules Marinieres is as much of a panty-peeler as anything I can cook, and isn't that hard to pull off. But still, I was busy tracking the recipe in my head when I found myself in the sweets aisle. And that, to my great chagrin, is why I didn't immediately notice the difference between Haribo Normal Gummi Bears (which are designed for human enjoyment) and Haribo Sugarless Gummi Bears (which are designed for use in maximum security prisons as a way to punish uncooperative inmates).
I shan't make that mistake again. (notice you can't spell SHAN'T without SHAT.)
Prior to Andrea's arrival, I sat in my living room, creating a playlist of make-out music and nervously binging on the Gummi Bears I had placed in a decorative bowl because I am fancy.
The doorbell rang, and within minutes we were standing in the kitchen, drinking beers and both of us probably worrying that we were about to exhaust my ability to communicate in her native tongue. But soon that would be the least of my worries. In the middle of trying to ask Andrea if she likes to dance to young people's music, I felt a flutter in my midsection, accompanied by a guttural pronouncement so loud it threatened to drown out my own voice.
Maybe it was because I was mentally refreshing my language lessons, but it suddenly struck me how much pre-diarrheal grumblings sound like German words.
"ENTSCHULDIGUNG!" was the next thing uttered by my rapidly clenching stomach. Appropriately, Andrea looked up in response.
"Sind Sie Kaffee machen?" she asked.
Am I making coffee?
I thought I must have mistranslated her at first, then finally I realized that yes, the loud, ominous gurgling coming from my gut could easily be mistaken for the percolating of some bachelor's crappy coffeemaker.
It's remarkable how quickly one knows that one is about to have a traumatic pottymaking experience. Maybe that's the body's way of buying you the precious seconds you need. I was already calculating the number of steps to the bathroom, speculating on whether I would have time to lift the lid to the toilet, when my own voice cried out loudly in my head.
She's going to hear EVERYTHING!
Thanks to an acoustical idiosyncrasy in my building, the hallway outside the bathroom works as an amplifier pointed straight at my living room-slash-kitchen. So that somehow even the gentlest tinkle sounds like I'm pouring lemonade out of a bucket.
With only half an idea of what I was doing, I grabbed Andrea's hand and pulled her roughly down onto my sofa. I must have looked like a madman as I booted up my iTunes playlist, plugged in the gigantic new headphones I had just bought to keep me looking young and hip, and clamped them down over her ears. (the sweat forming on my brow and upper lip couldn't have helped.) In response to her nervous expression, I kept shouting "You'll love this! You'll love this!"
I spun her around so that she was looking out the window. My "plan" was that she'd be so distracted by the modest 4th floor view, that it would allow me to pull my pants off while I sprinted down the hall, silently singing the praises of the noise-reducing quality of my new headphones. (this story will be reprinted in its entirety as a 5 star review on the Sony Beats Audio Amazon page.)
As I slammed the bathroom door shut, already half naked, it occurred to me that I had not been shouting "You'll love this!" at Andrea. I don't even know how to say that in German. In my desperation I had been saying "Ich Leibe Dich!" Repeatedly professing my love for her in a shaky and frantic voice. But maybe that was a good thing, because as I threw myself at the toilet, I figured the best I could hope for is that she would be so creeped-out that she would sneak out of the apartment, blissfully unaware of the carnage taking place in the next room.
What can I say about the ensuing white-knuckle bowel movement that hasn't been expressed in other reviews on this page? I'm pretty sure I haven't seen the adjective "Kafkaesque" used anywhere else.
By the end of Act One of this private little torture-porn movie, I was confessing to every unsolved crime in history. Praying I would stumble upon the one that would satisfy my invisible captors.
Quickly I realized that I had more than Andrea's sense of sound to worry about. Were she to get even the faintest whiff of the weapons-grade sluice that my anus was angrily shouting into the porcelain, I would have to change my name and move to another city.
And so I flushed. And flushed. And flushed and flushed.
And then I flushed and nothing happened.
I have never looked down into a broken toilet with more horror in my entire life. And I once stopped up George Clooney's crapper! (a true story for another time.)
I reached for the plunger, but my hand froze and my heart seized when I saw it on the floor, broken in two and covered in what looked like teeth marks. Apparently I had used the wooden handle to keep from biting my tongue off and had chewed clean through it. When did that happen? It seems my mind had already started the process of repressing this entire event.
Amid the feverish, fruitless dance I did across my tiny bathroom floor, it dawned on me that it had been more than a minute since my last soul-wrenching anal tantrum. Dear Lord, is it over? I asked, quite possibly aloud.
I may have been light-headed and delusional, but I began to imagine a non-ignominious resolution to this ordeal. I just needed to get her the hell out of here. If Andrea hadn't fled the building, vomiting in terror, then I supposed I could pull up my trousers and make a cavalier exit. As long as I could get her off premises and as far away from this post-apocalyptic commode as humanly possible. Assuming that the Diarrhistas had retreated to the hills temporarily, maybe I could even whisk Andrea away to a candlelight dinner at Bernardo's. How impulsive!
My first few steps back toward the living room were tentative. And not just because my sphincter felt raw and tattered. It was a slow approach to the Moment of Truth, especially when I saw her figure still planted on my sofa. I knew any look on Andrea's face other than her mouth agape would constitute a miraculous victory. And when she smiled at me, the wash of relief that engulfed me was more glorious than any throes of ecstasy I might have wished for at the beginning of the night.
And then I saw it.
The decorative bowl sitting in her lap. Down to just the last few sugarless Gummi bears.
"Du hast Haribo!" she said to me. Accompanied by a satisfied smile. A big, beaming Hansel and Gretel smile, that slightly turned down in one corner at the sound we both suddenly heard. A low rumble from deep within her GI tract that sounded like Gefahrrrrr.
The German word for Danger.
Her eyes shot past mine and refocused on the bathroom door just down the hall behind me.
 

Bryony

Veteran
Location
Ramsgate, Kent
It is more serious than that.
Mrs Domus is type 1 diabetic and Lucozade is / was her favourite tipple when her blood sugar drops too low.
The new stuff just does not do it for her, so the search is on for a quick and easy remedy.

Edit to say sorry for repeating the post above re Diabetes
Same for me, I now have non diet coke on standby for when my blood sugar drops but its no way near as nice as lucozade, and I know I shouldn't be fussy about the taste as getting my sugars up is the most important thing, but when you have to sit up at 2 or 3 am eating or drinking something due to a hypo, it makes things a little more bearable if you like it!!
 

MontyVeda

a short-tempered ill-controlled small-minded troll
Lucozade reducing the sugar content has caught out some of us type 1 diabetics. It's has been a popular go to during a hypoglycemic attack, but some diabetics have found that their attacks have been going on for longer, and when reading the label then realise that the sugar content has been drastically reduced!
This was being discussed on R4's Inside Health a few weeks ago... looks like Lucozade is now just a soft drink and not the remedy it used to be.
 

vickster

Legendary Member
This was being discussed on R4's Inside Health a few weeks ago... looks like Lucozade is now just a soft drink and not the remedy it used to be.
Probably since GSK sold it to Suntory for a bucket load of cash a few years back

Blame Liverpool City Council apparently for the anti sugar stance

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucozade
 

Poacher

Gravitationally challenged member
Location
Nottingham
Lucozade reducing the sugar content has caught out some of us type 1 diabetics. It's has been a popular go to during a hypoglycemic attack, but some diabetics have found that their attacks have been going on for longer, and when reading the label then realise that the sugar content has been drastically reduced!

It is more serious than that.
Mrs Domus is type 1 diabetic and Lucozade is / was her favourite tipple when her blood sugar drops too low.
The new stuff just does not do it for her, so the search is on for a quick and easy remedy.

Edit to say sorry for repeating the post above re Diabetes

Same for me, I now have non diet coke on standby for when my blood sugar drops but its no way near as nice as lucozade, and I know I shouldn't be fussy about the taste as getting my sugars up is the most important thing, but when you have to sit up at 2 or 3 am eating or drinking something due to a hypo, it makes things a little more bearable if you like it!!

I'd guess it also seriously compromises a standard test for type 2 diabetes; when my GP tested me last year the instructions were very specific about tracking down some original recipe Lucozade for drinking after my initial blood sample had been taken. Is it still available? By the way, it tasted disgusting and reminded me of (very!) long ago childhood ailments.
 
This was being discussed on R4's Inside Health a few weeks ago... looks like Lucozade is now just a soft drink and not the remedy it used to be.


Slightly OT...

I used to write advice leaflets for students travelling abroad

Our advice for dodgy tummies was that most of the proprietary medication (Dioralyte etc) required making up with the local water

Meanwhile Coke / Pepsi had an almost guaranteed standard, so the advice was to get a bottle of "full fat" (none of that namby pamby diet stuff) crack the top and leave for a few hours. Then drink the flat drink.

Contained lots of sugars and also lots of trace elements etc, so was a good way of rehydreating
 
Aspartame was originally a diabetes drug produced by a company which Donald Rumsfeld was a non exec director of. Surprisingly, he wangled it so as that it was no longer classified as a drug, and could be used in soft drinks as a sugar substitute. Funny how that works, isn't it?
 

S-Express

Guest
Aspartame was originally a diabetes drug produced by a company which Donald Rumsfeld was a non exec director of. Surprisingly, he wangled it so as that it was no longer classified as a drug, and could be used in soft drinks as a sugar substitute. Funny how that works, isn't it?

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. It has never been a 'diabetes drug'....
 
Top Bottom