Tait Ball Buster: tv for commoners

8 Aug

She, beautiful young woman. He, handsome model type. His penthouse. Minimalist. A bottle of red, open. The label looks rare. He pours. She smiles. Strings play. It’s all very Thomas Crown Affair.

He goes to the kitchen. She sips delicately. Strings screech. Face contorts. It’s putrid. Panic! Eyes dart around the room. Nowhere to chuck it. Even the window is sealed. Horror!

Idea. She reaches into her bag. Tampon! Dunko into the glass and hey ho, problem solved. One dinky little plastic bag later and it’s history.

Male model re-enters. Classy music returns. Empty glass? His eyebrow arches gamely. He goes to refill. She looks panicked, leaps up and jumps him. Foreplay over.

Endframe: table, posh wine. A hand plonks in the new bottle of Tait Ball Buster, obscures the fancy muck.

Aussie mvo: Tait Ball Buster. Good Aussie red and no nonsense. Because life’s too short for sh*t.

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