96 Billion to 1

This week's blog is neither a rant nor a funny, so if you tuned in to either raise or lower your blood pressure I'm afraid this isn't the space for that today.

Instead of providing a chuckle, I need to unravel a mystery triggered by a skincare advert I saw on the telly last night.

Scientists employed by one of the globe's largest skincare and cosmetic companies (I honestly can't remember which one, it could have been LÓreal but it doesn't matter, the only difference between one brand and the other in terms of advertising is the name and livery) have made another amazing breakthrough and voila, user trials prove that "78% of women saw a difference" after slapping this stuff on their faces.  

Yawn.  "So what?" you ask "Your point is?"

My point is the small print insisted by consumer bodies and advertising standards boards. By law, these multi billion $ giants have to reveal their sample size and there it was, tucked away at the bottom of the screen. In this particular case, 44 women were sampled.

Read that again.  FORTY FOUR, out of a possible 3.5 billion women on the planet.  

Google tells me that the worth of the cosmetics and skincare industry is projected to reach $675 billion in 2017.  My rusty maths turns that into a spend of $96 billion per PERSON on planet Earth.  Phew!

An industry that gigantic uses state of the art laboratories and top scientists and specialists, spending millions of dollars in their research race to produce the holy grail - eternal youth.  Well, at least until you pop your clogs cos immortality hasn't been cracked yet.  But the drive to be the youngest looking corpse is worth $675 billion and the big guns want the lion's share of that boodle.

Yet they have so little faith in their own product that they test on a minuscule sample of potential customers?  We have school classes bigger than that sample!  The average McDonalds, a take away restaurant, can seat more than 44.  A sample of 44 people has less than no value in proving the efficacy of this goop.

Think of the multi millions spent on the research and development, the packaging and marketing - it's eye-watering.  To shout about what 78% of FORTY FOUR women reported?  Pathetic!

If I was marketing director of any of these industry giants, I'd send the product to the furthest flung, most desolate regions in the world.  Women in the Aussie outback, Sahara desert, jungles of South East Asia and South America and yes, even women scientists in Antarctica, would be trying my cream.  I'd pick women who had never had the opportunity to slap lotion on their faces ever, which is guaranteed to show positive results after a few weeks and give me the statistics I want - 100% improvement.

Of course, that's a suspect figure so I'd round up a group of my brand's most loyal, first world customers and let them at the new miracle cream.  Naturally, as they are using my current miracle worker, I don't expect amazing results from this batch (after all, my product is the best on the market and delivers what my substantial marketing budget promises, right?!) But that's perfect.  If I make this sample less than 10% of my group, that gives me a realistic statistic to report - 90% of 6000 women saw an improvement...

Eagle Eyed Birdies

I've never spent much time (any at all, actually) considering the supposed supersonic eyesight of birds.  'Eagle eyed' and 'birds-eye view' roll effortlessly off the tongue without using a single kilojoule of brain energy considering the factual basis of the idioms.

We do enjoy feeding our feathered garden aviators, however, and installed a smart penthouse feeder well out of cat paw reach. The local feed merchant makes a fortune out of the seed I buy from him because one thing is for sure about birds, when they find an easy source of food they call a friend.  Or several dozen.

You can tell when my mind is having an 'off this planet' moment because the things that engage my thoughts at times....  For instance, how do the birds know the pantry is open today?

Picture the scene.  I've been away for several months and the fly-through diner closed.  The diner is a wooden platform with four pillars bearing a roof, so a bird's eye view doesn't come into play here, it's impossible to see from overhead whether the buffet is stocked or not.

Fickle friends as they are, the birds have absconded from our garden during the famine and not a single one is to be seen when I pile a jug of seed onto the table. One thing I did notice is that the price of birdseed has increased by 30% during my absence, so the recipients of this largess had better up their entertainment game accordingly.

Just add oranges then grub's up!

 It took 20 minutes, then first the Bronze Mannikins pulled in en masse,
followed by the African Doves and a Pin Tailed Whydah all in a'flutter.  

How?  How did they know lunch was served?  Do they have a freakish sense of smell to rival a hyena?  Or X-Ray vision like some feathered Superhero?  For months there was nothing on the table and I thought they'd left the 'hood.  Perhaps they left a sentinel to keep a lookout for the feast?

It's a mystery to me and I hope that some knowledgeable twitcher can enlighten me.  

20 minutes later

In a different vein, but reminded by the 'eagle eye' thing, do you remember your child's first 'dirty' joke?  We all recall where we were when Mandela walked free, Princess Diana died and the Twin Towers sank into dust, and most good parents remember the moments of first teeth, first steps and so on.  I have notes in the baby books to tell me those things, the dates and moments escape me.  Big blush, bad mother.

Being a working mum, the first step moments in our house were witnessed by Francina Twala, beloved second mum to both boys and the person who kept it all together in our home.  I was met at the front door by a beaming face and excited chatter about how No 1, and then No 2, had passed the milestone.  Like all mothers do, I burst into tears but unlike good mothers, my tears weren't about missing those first steps but the twang as yet another apron string was cut.

No, in my upside down motherly role, I remember their first naughty jokes. Is that normal?  No 1 confronted me one evening while I wallowed in a hot bubble bath, clutching a book and a glass of wine.  Oh, for those pre-reading glass days when reading in the bath was possible!  A treat lost indeed.

The joke was about a jungle warrior wounded in battle.  He'd lost an eye, his right arm, his left leg and the appendage men are most concerned with.  The witchdoctor replaced his missing bits with the eye of an eagle, the arm of a gorilla, a cheetah's leg and yes, an elephant's trunk.  Checking progress during the follow up consultation, the warrior reported he could see very, very far, throw his spear very, very far, outrun all his enemies but oh, dear, his trunk kept picking grass and stuffing it up his you-know-where.

Caught between wanting to be a correct mum and enjoying the joke as much as for the acting and accents No 1 adopted in the telling, I roared with laughter and sank deep into the bubbles.   

And that, my friends, is what runs through my head when 'eye of an eagle' is mentioned.  Except now, the 'eye of a Bronze Mannikin' is mystifying me!