Ceci n'e pas...
I’ve been known to eat a bag of peanuts now and then, though generally only while strapped into a tiny seat in an aluminum tube hurtling through the sky. But when I saw this packet in the new vending machine we have at work, I just had to have it. Maybe it was something about the imagery, the floating hat against ethereal sky bringing to mind the surrealist art of Magritte. Maybe it was the briskness of the bowler, a business-like gauntlet thrown down to that monocle-wearing dandy and his insufferable tophat. Or it could have been the pure straightforwardness of the name: Mister Nut, a liberal generalist where his narrow-minded, spats-bedecked competitor blindly champions one nut only — in fact a legume! This modestly faceless merchant in the bowler promises no such prejudice against the almond or filbert, cashew, pecan, the pistachio, Brazil, macadamia, cola or walnut. When I saw this pack of peanuts beckoning from the vending machine, I knew: I had found a new nut merchant.


I’m even willing to overlook the fact that none of the five languages on the packet is Slovene.

Previous packaging gambits: Croatian tuna-flogging walrus; Self-referential coffeepot.