It occurred to me the other day, when Kev trademarked the name “Metal Horse™”, that we’ve trademarked quite a few terms over the years, and the terms that make up our intellectual property must now be quite substantial.
I have, therefore, conducted several exhausting days* of research to discover just how wide-ranging our various trademarks are, and I can present the results to you now for the first time. So here are all of the Pouring Beans trademarked terms, every last one, in chronological order.
Remarks: My very first trademark is for a delicious pork-flavoured toothpaste product, since Kev doesn’t like mint. It is, tragically, still not yet in large scale production.
Remarks: The latest entry from our most prolific trademarker came just two days ago, and may have prompted the idea for this blog post, which is in no way a quick way of sniping in one last post this month before the deadline.
* About ten minutes.
14 comments on “The Pouring Beans intellectual property portfolio”
Diamond socks would either be horrible and golfery, a la the ones above, or hideously painful to wear, a la socks made of actual diamonds. Frankly I’d rather have a diamond hat, it’d still be uncomfortable, but at least I wouldn’t have to hide it under my shoes.
If I’m a millionaire and I want uncomfortable socks that cost several hundreds of thousands of pounds then that’s what I’m going to do. I may get two pairs and wear them both at the same time given that’s my ‘hing.
Why do you want uncomfortable socks? If you’re a millionaire, why wouldn’t you live in absolute luxury at all times? That’s what I’d do. I’d be wearing the most comfortable socks in the world, hand-made for me by the world’s foremost sockologists.
There’s no millionaire quite like you. Rich beyond your wildest dreams, but permanently uncomfortable and wilfully unhappy.
This is just like when you said that, if you were given the power of time travel, you’d use it to let Genghis Khan indulge in sexual bliss in New York in 1969 rather than just going there yourself and getting your own end away.
You’d let Genghis have his sordid way with every nubile young lady in the Summer of Love, and then you’d clean up after him too? Mate, you’re better than that. Don’t do that to yourself. And if you do, wear rubber gloves.
You never know, almost 800 years in the afterlife (or wherever he went) may have changed his mind about the whole ‘fuck this, fuck that and damn the consequences’ approach he adopted in the 13th century. Maybe he’s into gardening now?
If he is, you don’t want to take him to New York in the 60s. You should take him to Saville’s Garden Centre on Garforth Cliff in about 1991. He could look at the plants and the displays of sheds and gazebos, and then you could both have a ride on the miniature train.
14 comments on “The Pouring Beans intellectual property portfolio”
Look at all of our THINGS that we did. We have a lot of THINGS to our name.
I like how rich and luxurious our history is, like a pair of diamond socks
Is a pair of diamond socks the most luxurious thing you can think of?
Diamond socks would either be horrible and golfery, a la the ones above, or hideously painful to wear, a la socks made of actual diamonds. Frankly I’d rather have a diamond hat, it’d still be uncomfortable, but at least I wouldn’t have to hide it under my shoes.
If I’m a millionaire and I want uncomfortable socks that cost several hundreds of thousands of pounds then that’s what I’m going to do. I may get two pairs and wear them both at the same time given that’s my ‘hing.
Why do you want uncomfortable socks? If you’re a millionaire, why wouldn’t you live in absolute luxury at all times? That’s what I’d do. I’d be wearing the most comfortable socks in the world, hand-made for me by the world’s foremost sockologists.
I’m a different kind of millionaire
*puffs his chest out with pride*
There’s no millionaire quite like you. Rich beyond your wildest dreams, but permanently uncomfortable and wilfully unhappy.
This is just like when you said that, if you were given the power of time travel, you’d use it to let Genghis Khan indulge in sexual bliss in New York in 1969 rather than just going there yourself and getting your own end away.
I told you, I’d clean up as well. All the leftovers would be mine for the taking. We’d slam through that town like wresting leopards.
You’d let Genghis have his sordid way with every nubile young lady in the Summer of Love, and then you’d clean up after him too? Mate, you’re better than that. Don’t do that to yourself. And if you do, wear rubber gloves.
You never know, almost 800 years in the afterlife (or wherever he went) may have changed his mind about the whole ‘fuck this, fuck that and damn the consequences’ approach he adopted in the 13th century. Maybe he’s into gardening now?
If he is, you don’t want to take him to New York in the 60s. You should take him to Saville’s Garden Centre on Garforth Cliff in about 1991. He could look at the plants and the displays of sheds and gazebos, and then you could both have a ride on the miniature train.
Then possibly have your way with one of the staff. Genghis first obviously.
Obvs, the man can’t have lost his mojo completely.
He’d love the miniature train though. He’d lost his tiny Mongolian mind.
He totally would. You could also look at the many tanks of goldfish. Those are my main memories of that garden centre.