I feel it is my duty to inform you that the product below is nothing more than the usual pile of shit deodorant, put in a green can. And I can prove it.
Here are some of the outrageous claims that this product makes:
“Brings you back to life – no matter how short the night was.”
That’s all I could find, look… go to the freaking website if you need more convincing that they claim to be the Mohammed Ali of Hangover cures.
What do they mean by Anti-Hangover, do they know how to fix Hangovers? Or are the people at lynx just against them?
Here is a letter I wrote to Lynx, with detailed proof that their product is falsely labeled.
Dear Lynx whomever person,
I would just like to take this opportunity to voice my dissatisfaction with the results of your “Anti-Hangover” deodorant, also to request that you label it with something more appropriate. I will get to that later.
Your product doesn’t work? How do I know?
It all started one Friday night at the office. A steak and bread roll sandwich mixed with 4 Carlton beers and a game of Car park cricket were the first ingredients of an evening I had planned to make a big one.
Intent to brown tongue my way into a window office and a company car, I headed to the nearest alcoholic beverage merchant with some managers to show them how to throw a schooner back.
The standard office drinks style shindig ensued. There was pool, shots of Tequila and me using inebriation as an excuse to tell everyone I thought they were scum.
I estimate that I had consumed around 10 standard drinks before I was faced with Cowboys shots followed by tequila. Having mixed that with an already half full tank of Beer, I was f*cking steaming.
I am a firm believer that every man has his weakness. Just look at super man, that bastard could overtake bullets and lift your house, but point a bit of green rock at him (kryptonite) and the pussy fell to pieces. I, like superman have a weakness..and it is Rum.
I still haven’t found out which bastard stuck a glass of rum in my hand, but that’s another story.
I instantly went from, swerving like an L Plater on acid drunk, to screwed in half with a shotgun to the guts drunk. It was somewhere around midnight when I decided to head for home, as I had to work at 8:30am the next morning.
Ignoring a bus stop right out front of the pub, I walked 2kms to what I thought was the closest bus stop. My attempts to hitch hike whilst walking failed dismally. If a taxi won’t pick you up with a fist full of cash, then chances are you are maggot drunk.I finally boarded the bus, argued with the driver about the colors of my change, and then sat down.
The next 50 minutes home were a blur, luckily the fact that I had passed out didn’t mean I missed my stop as some guy that barely knows me woke me up and said “Dude, you live near this stop don’t you!” I thanked him for his assistance and staggered inside, luckily the door was open because I couldn’t have even spelt key, let alone used one.
The next 40 minutes I spent hunched over the laundry basin regurgitating with more fervor than a bulimic in full swing. I flopped into bed fully clothed, reeking of Cuban cigars and vomit that was probably all over my pants.
Given the details above, you can probably guess where I am heading here. I had a fecking A grade mother of a Hangover. I woke at 7am because I somehow managed to set the alarm, all be it, an hour early.
Knowing that pulling off 6 hours of work in my condition would be a miracle, I drowned my entire body with your “Lynx anti-hangover” product. If I ever needed it to work, it was then.
When I arrived, my bosses comment was something along the lines of “You look dead.” Four hours into it I had to put the phone on hold while I violently ejaculated my breakfast into one of the office bins. The bin is still in the boot of my car as the boss insisted I take it home and wash it out.
I managed to convince my boss that I needed to either go home and sleep for a week, or die. He weighed up the pros and cons and decided that my dying was too much paperwork.
I climbed in my car thinking nothing more than getting home and falling into a coma. Though it turns out, operating a vehicle was more than I was up to. I crashed my car up the arse of a commodore and did my best to pretend that I hadn’t been hit for six by a demon mix of spirits 12 hours earlier.
It will end up costing me about 1,000 bucks in panel beating, and 55 bucks in chiropractic work to un-f*ck my back. I spend the next three days feeling like I’d worn a KKK uniform through Harlem.
Story Ends.
If ever I needed your product to live up to its claims, it was that morning. I feel disillusioned, hurt and disillusioned.
I notice that the product is a “limited edition” is that because you thought there might be a limit to how long you could get away with this? All I ask is that my defective can of Anti Hangover be replaced with your regular product that doesn’t make any outrageous claims.
I would also appreciate it if you would consider amending the name of the Product to one of the following:
“Hangover? – Tough”
“Anti Hangover – Yeah, We don’t like them at all”
“Want help with your hangover – You’ve come to the wrong place”
It is my intention to share my story with as many people as possible but as I believe every side has its story… I am willing to voice your reply.
Regards
Disillusioned Alcoholic
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