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» The Dirty Secrets of Your Trade
The secret of looking young...
...never use cosmetics.
I am an analytical chemist, which is what happens to Chemistry graduates who only get a Third.
Once upon a time I used to work for a well known cosmetics firm in an obscure Welsh valley. You think your glamorous lipstick/eyeshadow/shampoo is formulated by a beautifully made up young woman of 20 in a crisp white labcoat? O no, it's a hairy-arsed Welsh rugby full-back with a coat stained all colours of the rainbow mingling into a dirty brown.
Anyhoo I used to analyse the raw materials and can testify that donkey foetuses were at the time used in anti-ageing products, and the nerve endings of horses used in eye cream, and lanolin (the grease from sheep's wool) used in lipstick. I used to do the rancidity test on the lanolin, don't worry I made sure the rancid stuff got rejected.
The senior technician, let's call him Mr Bean, was the only one trained to use the HPLC, which indicated the sun factor protection. We started to get complaints that people's babies were burning even though they were using the top grade lotion. Turned out that Mr Bean was printing the same HPLC results every time - he did not know how to operate the machine at all, and the lotion contained no sun protection ingredients whatsoever.
We regularly used to pollute the river, but not as badly as the nearby paper recycling factory (never let it be said that recycling your newspaper is green). At one time blue mascara turned the river bright blue, the kind of colour the (then) NRA had been trying to get it for years. Another time we polluted it with acetone, and the fish were so desperate to get away from the stuff that they jumped out of the river and died. The production manager suggested to the man from the NRA that he might like to use them as firelighters.
Soul destroying stuff. Now I analyse beer for a living which is much more rewarding :)
(Mon 1st Oct 2007, 19:55, More)
The secret of looking young...
...never use cosmetics.
I am an analytical chemist, which is what happens to Chemistry graduates who only get a Third.
Once upon a time I used to work for a well known cosmetics firm in an obscure Welsh valley. You think your glamorous lipstick/eyeshadow/shampoo is formulated by a beautifully made up young woman of 20 in a crisp white labcoat? O no, it's a hairy-arsed Welsh rugby full-back with a coat stained all colours of the rainbow mingling into a dirty brown.
Anyhoo I used to analyse the raw materials and can testify that donkey foetuses were at the time used in anti-ageing products, and the nerve endings of horses used in eye cream, and lanolin (the grease from sheep's wool) used in lipstick. I used to do the rancidity test on the lanolin, don't worry I made sure the rancid stuff got rejected.
The senior technician, let's call him Mr Bean, was the only one trained to use the HPLC, which indicated the sun factor protection. We started to get complaints that people's babies were burning even though they were using the top grade lotion. Turned out that Mr Bean was printing the same HPLC results every time - he did not know how to operate the machine at all, and the lotion contained no sun protection ingredients whatsoever.
We regularly used to pollute the river, but not as badly as the nearby paper recycling factory (never let it be said that recycling your newspaper is green). At one time blue mascara turned the river bright blue, the kind of colour the (then) NRA had been trying to get it for years. Another time we polluted it with acetone, and the fish were so desperate to get away from the stuff that they jumped out of the river and died. The production manager suggested to the man from the NRA that he might like to use them as firelighters.
Soul destroying stuff. Now I analyse beer for a living which is much more rewarding :)
(Mon 1st Oct 2007, 19:55, More)
» Desperate Times
Another wee-wee story
First girls night out with new colleagues, small company where everyone knows everyone else. We went down to Brighton and had a cracking time. After about 4 nightclubs we headed off to get the Vomit Comet back to Redhill.
Unfortunately on the way back up the hill to the station, my bladder which was recycling 6 pints of lager started to protest loudly. THe girls with the tickets were way ahead of me, out of earshot and talking nine to the dozen, paying the new girl not the least bit of heed. Thinks - I'll head up one of those side streets and pee behind a parked car.
I selected a street which surely nobody would head down at such an unearthly hour. Sure as God hates me, as soon as my kex were down and I was in full flow, a respectable young man walked right past me.
I instinctively yanked up my trousers but failed to cut off the flow. Wet patch the size of Lake Windermere. Long train delay at Brighton, giving colleagues plenty of time to spot it. Long train journey with colleagues giving them plenty of time to inhale my new perfume.
All have left the company now though - I have lived down the story, till now..
(Mon 19th Nov 2007, 19:53, More)
Another wee-wee story
First girls night out with new colleagues, small company where everyone knows everyone else. We went down to Brighton and had a cracking time. After about 4 nightclubs we headed off to get the Vomit Comet back to Redhill.
Unfortunately on the way back up the hill to the station, my bladder which was recycling 6 pints of lager started to protest loudly. THe girls with the tickets were way ahead of me, out of earshot and talking nine to the dozen, paying the new girl not the least bit of heed. Thinks - I'll head up one of those side streets and pee behind a parked car.
I selected a street which surely nobody would head down at such an unearthly hour. Sure as God hates me, as soon as my kex were down and I was in full flow, a respectable young man walked right past me.
I instinctively yanked up my trousers but failed to cut off the flow. Wet patch the size of Lake Windermere. Long train delay at Brighton, giving colleagues plenty of time to spot it. Long train journey with colleagues giving them plenty of time to inhale my new perfume.
All have left the company now though - I have lived down the story, till now..
(Mon 19th Nov 2007, 19:53, More)
» Rubbish Towns
Crap Towns I havelived in
1. Bishops Waltham
Looks nice in the town centre but there are 60s/70s ticky-tacky houses all around it, full of small minded bigots and violent chavs. There is a stagnant, fly-ridden pond in the middle which they have tried to make into a "feature".
2. Luton (several people have mentioned already - it's infamous). Just a smelly stopover place on the way to London and the locals must have the least sexy accent in the world.
3. Cwmbran. A massive, soulless housing estate.
4. The Gurnos. As above but with awful poverty problems.
(Sun 1st Nov 2009, 14:01, More)
Crap Towns I havelived in
1. Bishops Waltham
Looks nice in the town centre but there are 60s/70s ticky-tacky houses all around it, full of small minded bigots and violent chavs. There is a stagnant, fly-ridden pond in the middle which they have tried to make into a "feature".
2. Luton (several people have mentioned already - it's infamous). Just a smelly stopover place on the way to London and the locals must have the least sexy accent in the world.
3. Cwmbran. A massive, soulless housing estate.
4. The Gurnos. As above but with awful poverty problems.
(Sun 1st Nov 2009, 14:01, More)