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Terry’s Story.
It’s hard to know where it all began really. I was happily married with two children, owned a lovely 5 bedroomed house in an exclusive area of Worksop with two BMW’s parked on the drive. I was a successful executive of a company earning 75K+ a year, played golf twice a week and enjoyed numerous business trips and family holidays abroad. I suppose you could say I had everything I could ever want.
If I was to try and put my finger on the actual moment where it all began to go wrong I would have to say that it was the day that McDonalds opened opposite my Worksop office. I’d often be working late in the evening and on my way home I’d pop into McDonalds for a Big Mac, just to keep me going for the hour or so that it took me to get home. As the months went on I found that I needed the Big Mac every night just to be able to cope with the drive home. Then, if I was having a stressful day at the office I’d have a Big Mac for lunch and sometimes in the afternoon too. My wife began to comment on the size of my waistline but I just made some kind of joke about it to throw her off the real issue, I was addicted to Big Mac’s – or so I thought.
The realisation that it was the gherkins in the Big Mac that I craved came about soon afterwards. I’d failed to secure a large order for the company that I had been working on for months and to relieve the anger I felt towards myself I ordered five Big Mac’s and started eating. By the time I got to the third I had discarded the burger and was just eating the gherkin - and I loved it. From then on I was ordering dozens of burgers a day just for the gherkins. I was obsessed, addicted even at that stage. It got so bad that the staff at my local McDonalds would start whispering to each other as I walked in. I knew they were talking about me so I began travelling to all the different restaurants in the area just to avoid the gossip. I was soon travelling 20-30 miles just to get a gherkin fix.
By this time my work and home life began to suffer. I was never in the office because I was always on my way to a McDonalds somewhere. I was given warning after warning about my responsibilities as an executive of the company but just ignored them. I began getting home later and later and my wife thought I was having an affair which lead to constant arguments. I wasn’t of course but I couldn’t tell her the real reason way I was never home. Financially the cost of all the burgers and the travelling began bite. First the holidays stopped, then I down sized the cars, eventually selling my wife’s car altogether, just to feed my habit.
And then I made a startling discovery. You could by jars of whole gherkins from the supermarket, sweet pickled gherkins in vinegar, I was in heaven. Buying 1 jar was enough to keep me going all day. Life began to return to normal. I could hide the jar in my desk at work and gorge when I wanted and having a jar at home in the larder didn’t seem strange to my wife at all. But all too soon 1 jar became 2, 2 became 3 and so on. Work again became a major problem and my wife, once again believing I was having an affair left me taking the children with her. This only made matters worse. When I was at work, which wasn’t very often, I couldn’t concentrate, I was sweating vinegar because I was eating pickled gherkins by the jarful and I was constantly farting. This prevented me from meeting clients and so the inevitable happened, I got the sack. But I didn’t care so long as I had enough gherkins to keep me going.
To try and economise on my addiction I began to grow my own. I dug up the back garden and purchased an allotment from the local council. Every possible inch of spare ground was turned over to the production of Gherkins and my favourite herbs. I became an expert at blending gherkins and herbs to produce some of the finest tasting pickles ever created. There are of course drawbacks to growing your own. It took bloody ages for the things to grow, when they were big enough I would eat most of them as they were picked, those that did make it to the jars only lasted a few days before the temptation to gorge became too much and the British climate. You just can’t grow them all year round, even in the south of England. I did try growing them through the winter months in a heated loft under Ultra violet lights but I overlooked one important factor. The weight of more than 50 water laden grow bags in a loft that hasn’t been reinforced will undoubtedly lead to disaster – and it did. The devastation caused to the upstairs ceiling forced me to abandon my horticultural prowess.
Feeding my habit, which by now had reached 50 jars a day, soon made a serious dent in my bank balance. When the bank refused to give me any more money I sold the car, all the household furniture, lawnmower, tools, etc, etc and with my wife constantly on my back for money I had no option but to get a job.
Lady luck was once again looking after me though, for not only did I get a job, it was as a shelf stacker on the graveyard shift in a local supermarket. This was a double bonus, my wife could have all the money I earned, and I, as long as I was careful, could have a few jars of gherkins as a perk of the job – everyone’s a winner.
Well, the inevitable happened only two months later. After a particularly bad argument with my wife, soon to become my ex-wife because of my addiction, I went on the binge at work. Not only did I clear the shelves of all the pickled gherkins, the cocktail variety too, I then went through everything that contained gherkins - the picillily, the relishes and all the sandwich pickles in just 2 hours. I was as Gherk as a skunk, Gherk arsed, Gherked as fart, you name it I was it. I was found lying in amongst the fresh fruit and veg singing Max Bygraves classics, empty jars strewn all across the isle.
To be fair, my employers did try to help me. They referred me to numerous Psychologists and Doctors and an unparalleled number of embarrassing tests. I became the guinea pig for a study on a modern day addiction. Nothing of course worked, even being diagnosed with the incurable prickly throat disease, caused by the rasping action of the prickly skins against the back of my throat as I gorged on raw gherkins, didn’t stop me. As soon as I was free from their clutches I was straight back on the gherkins at the earliest opportunity.
By now at my lowest ebb. My wife and children had left me for good, the house and all my possessions had been sold, most of the money going on gherkins, I had lost my job and I was sleeping in an allotment shed raiding the gherkin patches by night just to try and get by – the future looked bleak, the future I was interested in wasn’t orange, it was the green prickly skin of my next Gherkin.
During a night raid on a neighbouring gherkin patch I was arrested by a couple of local rozzers and thrown in jail overnight to allow the swelling in my belly to subside. After aparticularly rough night going ‘cold turkey’, the following morning I got chatting to the duty sergeant over a sobering cup of coffee. I told him the whole story, from riches to rags.
For some unknown reason he took it upon himself to try and help me. He had heard of this new site on the web and contacted ‘The Crew’ asking if there was anything that they could do to help. From the moment I spoke with the guys at www.ihategherkins.com my life turned around completely. I was cured of my addiction within 24hrs, my wife and children returned the following day and within a week and I was working as a double for Richard Gere on the set of his latest blockbuster movie in Hawaii.
I owe my life to ihategherkins.com
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Are you an addict – Take the self diagnosis test here. (COMING WITHIN NEXT WEEK)
So you failed the self diagnosis test – Follow our ten point plan to a guaranteed cure within 24 hours. (COMING WITHIN NEXT WEEK)
Terry’s Story.
It’s hard to know where it all began really. I was happily married with two children, owned a lovely 5 bedroomed house in an exclusive area of Worksop with two BMW’s parked on the drive. I was a successful executive of a company earning 75K+ a year, played golf twice a week and enjoyed numerous business trips and family holidays abroad. I suppose you could say I had everything I could ever want.
If I was to try and put my finger on the actual moment where it all began to go wrong I would have to say that it was the day that McDonalds opened opposite my Worksop office. I’d often be working late in the evening and on my way home I’d pop into McDonalds for a Big Mac, just to keep me going for the hour or so that it took me to get home. As the months went on I found that I needed the Big Mac every night just to be able to cope with the drive home. Then, if I was having a stressful day at the office I’d have a Big Mac for lunch and sometimes in the afternoon too. My wife began to comment on the size of my waistline but I just made some kind of joke about it to throw her off the real issue, I was addicted to Big Mac’s – or so I thought.
The realisation that it was the gherkins in the Big Mac that I craved came about soon afterwards. I’d failed to secure a large order for the company that I had been working on for months and to relieve the anger I felt towards myself I ordered five Big Mac’s and started eating. By the time I got to the third I had discarded the burger and was just eating the gherkin - and I loved it. From then on I was ordering dozens of burgers a day just for the gherkins. I was obsessed, addicted even at that stage. It got so bad that the staff at my local McDonalds would start whispering to each other as I walked in. I knew they were talking about me so I began travelling to all the different restaurants in the area just to avoid the gossip. I was soon travelling 20-30 miles just to get a gherkin fix.
By this time my work and home life began to suffer. I was never in the office because I was always on my way to a McDonalds somewhere. I was given warning after warning about my responsibilities as an executive of the company but just ignored them. I began getting home later and later and my wife thought I was having an affair which lead to constant arguments. I wasn’t of course but I couldn’t tell her the real reason way I was never home. Financially the cost of all the burgers and the travelling began bite. First the holidays stopped, then I down sized the cars, eventually selling my wife’s car altogether, just to feed my habit.
And then I made a startling discovery. You could by jars of whole gherkins from the supermarket, sweet pickled gherkins in vinegar, I was in heaven. Buying 1 jar was enough to keep me going all day. Life began to return to normal. I could hide the jar in my desk at work and gorge when I wanted and having a jar at home in the larder didn’t seem strange to my wife at all. But all too soon 1 jar became 2, 2 became 3 and so on. Work again became a major problem and my wife, once again believing I was having an affair left me taking the children with her. This only made matters worse. When I was at work, which wasn’t very often, I couldn’t concentrate, I was sweating vinegar because I was eating pickled gherkins by the jarful and I was constantly farting. This prevented me from meeting clients and so the inevitable happened, I got the sack. But I didn’t care so long as I had enough gherkins to keep me going.
To try and economise on my addiction I began to grow my own. I dug up the back garden and purchased an allotment from the local council. Every possible inch of spare ground was turned over to the production of Gherkins and my favourite herbs. I became an expert at blending gherkins and herbs to produce some of the finest tasting pickles ever created. There are of course drawbacks to growing your own. It took bloody ages for the things to grow, when they were big enough I would eat most of them as they were picked, those that did make it to the jars only lasted a few days before the temptation to gorge became too much and the British climate. You just can’t grow them all year round, even in the south of England. I did try growing them through the winter months in a heated loft under Ultra violet lights but I overlooked one important factor. The weight of more than 50 water laden grow bags in a loft that hasn’t been reinforced will undoubtedly lead to disaster – and it did. The devastation caused to the upstairs ceiling forced me to abandon my horticultural prowess.
Feeding my habit, which by now had reached 50 jars a day, soon made a serious dent in my bank balance. When the bank refused to give me any more money I sold the car, all the household furniture, lawnmower, tools, etc, etc and with my wife constantly on my back for money I had no option but to get a job.
Lady luck was once again looking after me though, for not only did I get a job, it was as a shelf stacker on the graveyard shift in a local supermarket. This was a double bonus, my wife could have all the money I earned, and I, as long as I was careful, could have a few jars of gherkins as a perk of the job – everyone’s a winner.
Well, the inevitable happened only two months later. After a particularly bad argument with my wife, soon to become my ex-wife because of my addiction, I went on the binge at work. Not only did I clear the shelves of all the pickled gherkins, the cocktail variety too, I then went through everything that contained gherkins - the picillily, the relishes and all the sandwich pickles in just 2 hours. I was as Gherk as a skunk, Gherk arsed, Gherked as fart, you name it I was it. I was found lying in amongst the fresh fruit and veg singing Max Bygraves classics, empty jars strewn all across the isle.
To be fair, my employers did try to help me. They referred me to numerous Psychologists and Doctors and an unparalleled number of embarrassing tests. I became the guinea pig for a study on a modern day addiction. Nothing of course worked, even being diagnosed with the incurable prickly throat disease, caused by the rasping action of the prickly skins against the back of my throat as I gorged on raw gherkins, didn’t stop me. As soon as I was free from their clutches I was straight back on the gherkins at the earliest opportunity.
By now at my lowest ebb. My wife and children had left me for good, the house and all my possessions had been sold, most of the money going on gherkins, I had lost my job and I was sleeping in an allotment shed raiding the gherkin patches by night just to try and get by – the future looked bleak, the future I was interested in wasn’t orange, it was the green prickly skin of my next Gherkin.
During a night raid on a neighbouring gherkin patch I was arrested by a couple of local rozzers and thrown in jail overnight to allow the swelling in my belly to subside. After aparticularly rough night going ‘cold turkey’, the following morning I got chatting to the duty sergeant over a sobering cup of coffee. I told him the whole story, from riches to rags.
For some unknown reason he took it upon himself to try and help me. He had heard of this new site on the web and contacted ‘The Crew’ asking if there was anything that they could do to help. From the moment I spoke with the guys at www.ihategherkins.com my life turned around completely. I was cured of my addiction within 24hrs, my wife and children returned the following day and within a week and I was working as a double for Richard Gere on the set of his latest blockbuster movie in Hawaii.
I owe my life to ihategherkins.com
<-- BACK
Are you an addict – Take the self diagnosis test here. (COMING WITHIN NEXT WEEK)
So you failed the self diagnosis test – Follow our ten point plan to a guaranteed cure within 24 hours. (COMING WITHIN NEXT WEEK)
Page Last Updated: 26/03/2008 23:55:54