The 400 Million Blows

So I open a new box of tissues and what do I see? Not the usual advertisements for hayfever products at this time of year. No, I see "Kleenex For Men: 50 Years of Mansize Strength 1956 - 2006".

I'm not an 8 stone weakling but I'm certainly not a strong man. OK, I can just about open most jars handed to me by arthritic pensioners, but really the only things that say "big strong man" about me are the tissues I use.

50 years of Kleenex For Men. I'm guessing that the 'ex' stands for 'emissions'. When it's used as a suffix, such as Kleen-ex and Dur-ex, we're talking about the containment of emissions. When used as a prefix, such as Ex-lax, well that's just the opposite.

I'm very happy with my Kleenex. You see, growing up I had a cotton handkerchief. It was my task to decide when it was dirty. When I'd decided it was, I'd throw it in the washing machine. Of course when I had one of my regular nosebleeds, then it was dirty. But for the usual day-to-day effluent, I just had to ask myself how long I could tolerate a wet right pocket.

I probably started using Kleenex For Men when I started to do my own washing. And it revolutionised my life. My right thigh never felt drier or more confident. And my nose appreciated being wiped dry rather than wet. Those horrible germs now got thrown onto landfill sites for seagulls to chew instead of being dissipated amongst the weekly wash.

So happy birthday, Kleenex For Men. You beat those other girly tissues to a pulp. And you sure made a man of me.