A DERRY man living in London has beat the censors to get three rude phrases printed on personalised jars of Nutella he ordered at Selfridges.
Trying to get jars of the chocolate spread personalised are very strict around the world.
Last year, a little girl in Australia named after Egyptian goddess ‘Isis’ was refused her own jar as she shared her name with the Islamic terrorist organisation.
But undeterred, Derry man Seamas O’Reilly took up the challenged and successfully printed not just one, but three questionably lewd phrases on jars of Nutella he purchased in Selfridges.
And he even convinced one worker that ‘Arsemuck’ is an Irish name!
“I started with the Irish term ‘Backdirt’, which means shite,” he told Mashable.
“Their set-up was fairly meticulous though; about four people working there — two at the front taking orders manning the tills, another at the back printing the labels, and usually a duty manager skulking around.
“Avoiding or bypassing these other workers became part of the thrill.”
However, ‘Arsemuck’ almost fell at the final hurdle.
“They literally took it away from me at the paypoint once they read it,” he said.
“The following exchange took place:
Guy: “Sorry you can not have this one.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Guy: “This one.”
Me: [Stares quizzically]
Guy: “Is a rude one. Sorry.”
[BEAT]
Me: “Oh, right no, wait! Sorry, do you mean because of Arse?”
Guy: (Nods sheepishly).
Me: “No, ha, Arsemuck is an Irish name.”
Guy: (embarrassed) “Ohhhhhhh.”
Me: “Haha.”
Guy: “I’m sorry sir.” (Laughs, wraps package and hands it to me)
Me: “Haha, don’t be sorry. Oh, that’s funny. I can’t wait to tell him this.”
Guy: “Arsemuck?”
Me: “It’s the Irish for Arsenio”
Guy: “Right, right. I know it.”
Me: “Ha, do you get a lot of rude ones?”
Guy: “All the time, sir.”
Me: “What’s the rudest one you’ve had?”
(Guy thinks for literally 15 seconds)
Guy: “Probably fatpussy sir.”
Me: “You can’t be too careful. Bye!”
“For today’s one (‘Bumgravy’), I noticed a guy had been left manning the kiosk by himself, and I’d never dealt with him before,” he said.
“The previous two trips, I’d actually left the queue because I swore I saw the manager nudging staff and pointing me out.
“I like to imagine they have a mugshot of me back there, smiling innocently and, underneath, the words “NO MOR JARZ” smeared in thick, delicious, name brand hazelnut paste.”
“It’s kind of hard to come up with more that explicitly imply that there’s poo in the jar,” O’Reilly said.
“I also don’t particularly like Nutella. And they’re pretty expensive.”
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