Old habits die hard

As some of you know, if something comes in liquid form, I cannot refuse. And thus it was that I find myself this evening happily handing over £50 English cash money for two bottles of what can only be described as fruit juice. Actually, the accompanying literature, '22 reasons to drink Mangosteen juice' (worth in itself a tenner at least for entertainment value), describes it thus:

“Pharmaceutical drugs are developed for specific effects for a targeted physiological function (no kidding). They are potent and often toxic to other areas (anyone who has seen me in the mornings can testify to that). Supplements utilize the holistic properties of plants – often having multiple or combined benefits. The dialogue will rage for many more years, sadly, at the expense of understanding the value of both sides. Obviously, the answer is ‘moderation in all things’ and most wise Americans know the value of each approach. Free radicals relentlessly attack the body cells, like vultures or piranhas, they ‘rape, pillage and plunder’. Mangosteen juice mops them up and helps hinder the damage.”

So. As moderation is ever my watchword, and because anything that comes in a bottle has to be tried at least once (remember that 'liquid hayfever remedy’ anyone?), I hand over my credit card and am now the proud possessor of two bottles of the stuff. It even comes with a handy shot glass to make me feel at home.

Obviously, one wouldn’t want to put all one’s eggs in one basket. Bearing in mind the maxim of moderation, I nip into my local corner shop on my way home and purchase another sort of fruit juice, tried, tested and perfected over millennia. The damage? £2.19.

I shall be sharing the results of my trial with you all forthwith.