Wednesday, 11 March 2015

Dyspeptic Dilemma


Tummy trouble in Spain gives rise to Flatcap’s speculation on why remedies are kept under the counter.


Dyspepsia? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink
During our recent stay in the Canary Islands, I noticed an anomaly. Not sure if it applies to the rest of Spain, but after a particularly heavy night in an Irish bar I needed Rennie. For those of you who don’t know, Rennie are the average drinker’s lifesaver. Bicarb in tablet form they settle yesterday’s beer and fried food and allow for a fresh intake today.
So off we toddled along Puerto del Carmen’s seafront looking for Rennie.
In amongst the usual stuff on general display I found false willies, false bottoms, false tits, and T-shirts with slogans that might just be open to censorship in our narrow-minded society, none of which was one slightest bit of use for my dyspeptic dilemma.
I even found one shop advertising genuine shag wear. Call me picky, but where I come from, you’re usually expected to divest your clobber for such purposes.
I asked at a supermarket and they said I could only get Rennie at a pharmacy, so off we went again, looking for such a shop and on the way we passed at least one subterranean club featuring exotic dancers. They made no bones about what you would get for your euros, but it ain’t Rennie.
When we got to the chemist, we searched high and low. I could find ointment for the treatment of haemorrhoids, and I’ve made a note of such for future visits. I could also find condoms guaranteeing the ultimate in hedonistic pleasure, and I thought they would go rather well with the shag wear. Nearby were female hygiene products of various kinds and purposes, plus creams, ointments and other bits and pieces to combat, er, shall we say, naughty little infections.
But I couldn’t find Rennie.
In the end, my gurgling gut demanded that I speak to the assistant.
She kept her voice low, and glanced furtively around the shop before unlocking a lower drawer and sneaking out the familiar red box.
“For you, senor, only six euros.”
Cheap at half the price when you’re tummy’s acting up. And half that price is what they are in our local supermarket.
The entire transaction reminded me of the old, under the counter, plain brown wrapper videotapes I used to borrow from our local shop. These were for research purposes of course.
The Rennie, however, were medicinally vital, so why keep them hidden in drawers? It seems obvious to me that that dyspepsia is an unmentionable in Spain. A bit like the shag wear in England.
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Would you prefer to listen to Flatcap delivering most of this post in his own, inimitable style? Click below.

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