THERE’S THE PASSION. AND THEN THERE’S THE POP

Remember the alco-pop tax? Remember how it was meant to deter young people from drinking pre-mixed drinks by making it too expensive and thus prevent them from writing themselves off?

Clearly the boffins forgot two words. Sorry three. PASSION FUCKING POP

We went down to the beach yesterday because a) the sky was full of unfamiliar blue stuff and b) full blown cabin fever had set in after three solid weeks of shite weather.

We got out of the car, directed all three kids to the grassed area while we extracted the myriad of beach paraphernalia (none of which got used) and then heard Jack screaming this: “Mum!! Mum!! Look! Someone has left a beer bottle here!” We walked around to where they were huddled, to see this:

The offending "beer" bottle

To be honest, I’m not sure if I should be relieved that Jack doesn’t recognise a bottle of Passion Pop or be horrified that he thinks a normal beer comes in a 750ml brown bottle.

There, lying on the ground was the lonely, discarded empty bottle of passion pop. Clearly it’s usefulness over, it was thrown down on the way back from a beach rendezvous. Back up, that sounds a little too classy for a Passion Pop fueled beach soirée. More than likely, it was chucked there after three or four 15 year olds, unable to believe their luck at securing the six buck chuck, skivved off down the beach, skulled it, had a pash and then got picked up at 10pm by Mum and Dad who were still under the impression their children had been having a coffee at Max Brenners.

I like the fact that nothing much changes. Well, it does, but it doesn't if you know what I mean. Instead of a Matthew & Luke Goss, they’ve got a Justin Bieber, instead wearing Choose Life, they are wearing I love Edward. The one constant is the cheap drink of choice: Passion Pop. 

Bros were the bomb.  No really, they were. There was another guy, but no one remembers him.

Justin Bieber - doing it for the girls of today.  Until his voice breaks.

 

 
My girlfriends and I were talking about this today and we calculated we were 14, maybe 15 when we started sneaking off somewhere dark and seedy to down a bottle of cheap plonk. It wasn’t like we did it often. My mother was a party Nazi and I rarely got the green light to go out. I only got let out for legit reasons, like the High school Carnival. This was held at night because our Principal was a rocket scientist and couldn’t predict the full scale riot that a combination of unlit basketball courts, lust filled teenagers and booze would create. I think that was my first dangerous liason with Passion Pop. Luckily I was staying over at a friends that night.

By the time I was in grade 11, there was a terrible incident on a beach near where we lived, where a highschool couple were bludgeoned to death at night by a random psychopath. That was enough to put a stop to top-secret interludes at dark beaches for a long, long time. Well, until the night I officially met Phil. But that’s a story for another time and hey, before you judge, remember, we’ve been together over 15 years . Something to be said for copious amounts of vodka and dancing like a chicken.

Anyway, I’ll be sure to keep a close eye on Maddison, but even I know, there will come the requests to attend parties. And saying no certainly didn’t stop me so I’ll just have to go with my gut when the time arises. One thing is for sure, she will, at one point in her life, get a taste of Passion Pop.