Dear Kmart, 

This is very difficult to write, because we actually really love you and what you do. We’ve noticed the transformation you’ve made in the last few years, and it’s been amazing.

You’ve become a favourite amongst all generations and pay scales. There are almost as many memes on social media celebrating your brilliance as there are photos of Jon Snow looking all brooding and handsome. 

But, as much as we’d really like to sink our teeth into Jon Snow, we do not want to sink our teeth into your “new” jersey caramels. Hopefully it’s just a bad batch, and not some questionable divergence by the food technologists working feverishly in your kitchen. 

Seriously, they taste like a mouthful of used coffee grinds… that have been flushed through the pipes of a caravan park toilet block. We’re not ones to throw out lollies from the office kitchenette, but your jersey caramels ended up in a bin. And then we set them on fire and danced around the flames to ward off evil spirits, and to make sure the jerseys were actually dead. 

In my quieter moments I like to imagine that this was all just a bad dream, some wild hulicination I had after eating too much cheese too close to my bed time. But alas, then I remember the way my tastebuds were assaulted and how, for just a brief moment, I wanted those taste buds to die, even though that would mean I could never taste ever again. 

So please, tell me the good news. “Hi Bugle, those ones you had were just a bad batch, we’ve remedied the situation, and life will be good again.” Because hope is all we have in these troubled times.

Kind Regards, 

The Watsonia Bugle.

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