Another day, another fine example of the kind of thing that makes me seriously believe that whoever was responsible in putting the planet together left some key pieces in the box along with those irritating decals that float away in search of a better life when immersed in water.

 After having spent my waking hours doing nothing that could be viewed as constructive by anyone other than the most delirious inmate of the head trauma ward I decided that it might be worth doing something to stop my eyes shrivelling up as a result starring of my archaic monitor.

   This thing was purchased second hand from a gentleman closely resembling the type of human being who always chooses to sit opposite me on a train despite any prayers and sacrificial offerings I might make in an attempt to convince the universe to make him sit on one of the other dozens of empty seats. I felt like I shouldn’t so much hand him the money as re-enact some form of Checkpoint-Charlie-style handover, everyone moving very slowly and not breaking eye-contact, exchanging money and monitor via a complex series of ropes… Hell, the guy scared me more than the last time I paid close attention to a kebab. Once the money had changed hands I was left with a monstrous 20” lump of a monitor that has put a permanent bend in my table and seems to be discolouring the ceiling more every day. The thing must be fairly aged judging by the fact it was big and cheap, not to mention the impressive thickness of anti-glare grime and nicotine I hesitantly removed with a bit of kitchen roll and far too much effort.

   I must admit to not having a Geiger counter floating around but my suspicions are that this thing gives off enough radiation to sterilize a yak at a thousand paces and, while it may well save me a fortune in contraception if ever the need arises again, I am beginning to worry about growing extra limbs in socially unacceptable places. The one scientifically (in the loosest sense admittedly) measurable indication of this thing’s unholy powers is its tendency after a few hours to leave my eyeballs feeling as if they have been dipped in salt… and, intriguingly, I have just discovered that if I close my eyes I can still read what I have just written…

   Having grown a little weary of the aforementioned sensation I decided to try the bottle of eye-wash that had been off-loaded on me last time I paid a visit to my beleaguered family. It had been promptly deposited in the Cupboard of Mystery that houses about 90% percent of the packets of Rolos that have come from the same source over the last few years and can only be disposed of via charitable donation or malice. Today was the day, I thought, to test the magical fluid’s mighty power… I unscrewed the cap with trepidation and filled its little eyebath. At first I was cautious about its mighty cleansing powers, suspecting that if I filled the eyebath a millimeter above the little line it would dissolve my eyes into a mess resembling the filling of a pastie, and my heart was palpitating noticeably when I finally summoned the nerve to begin the procedure.

   Now I must admit I was impressed by the whole thing, even more so if I discounted the screaming bloody agony that resulted from the liquid actually making contact with the eyeball. I especially liked the fact that when you looked through the little eyebath you could pretend you were Jaques Cousteau diving in a really unimaginative ocean… at least you could if you could stop yourself screaming and falling to the floor as your cornea melts. Perhaps the experience would have been even better if I had floated a few of those fish-shaped cat biscuits I vaguely remember trying in my more experimental youth… which incidentally tasted about as much like tuna as your average household brick.

   The most worrying thing is that I then tried the other eye.

   Once completely blinded by a marvelous mixture of ocularly administered chemicals I proceeded to walk straight into an open cupboard door and mildly distracted myself from the fact that I now had what felt like pickled onions instead of eyes.  

   All in all I would rate the experience about the same as when I used to have to jump up and down on top of the contents of the giant wheelie-bin at the animal sanctuary so they could cram in yet more mysterious animal outpourings... and I think the former had about the same effect on my eyeballs as the latter had on my shoes.

   Thus ends probably the only review of eye wash you will ever have the misfortune to read and bearing in mind that all the letters are swimming about in a rather blurry fashion you should be damn glad it’s as thorough as it is.

 The important rating part:

  Appearance of packaging: 2/5

A distinct lack of imagination throughout, only saved by the sheer size of the bastard that causes it to dwarf any other meager bottle in the medicine cabinet… any other medication will feel inferior to the point of despair in comparison to this behemoth.

  Little Eyebath: 4/5

 Not much to judge it against really, so I compared it to the kind of tub you get taramasalata in. In comparison the supplied eyebath fits snugly over your eye while the dip tub pours foul tasting eyewash down your shirt causing people to think you drink methylated spirits.

  Overall Experience: 0/5

 I strongly believe a preferable alternative would be to pour washing up liquid into your eye and scrub it with a toothbrush in the same fashion as Greenpeace do with oil-drenched gannets.

  Fun factor to be reaped if given to some poor soul complaining of itchy eyes: 5/5

 Quote from a fictional conversation:

  Person A: “Oh my poor eyes are so itchy, oh will this nightmare ever end? I’m seriously beginning to pray for death.”

  Person B: “Suffer no longer my friend… Take this bottle of ******* Eyewash and your pains will be soothed away as soothingly as if fluffy unicorns were to tenderly lick your eyeballs clean.”

  Person A: “My dearest friend, thank you… oh no, such feeble words are insufficient to sum up the wonderful service you have done me… I love you… I want to spawn your babies… I shall found a religion to worship you and I shall be the first sacrifice to you…”

  Person B: “Ah, your sweet words humble me… Yet do not waste time praising my meager act, rush to your eyeballs aid.”

  Person A: “So I don’t fill it above the little line right?”

  Person B: “It’s just a guide, don’t worry too much.”

  Person A: “Here I go…”

  Two minutes later.

  Person A: “Is my eye supposed to bleed like this?”

  In Conclusion:

  I used the remainder of the bottle to clean the rust off the sink.  

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