Where’s the Gunge Gone?

An investigation by Groan Hardsley

Does anyone else remember gunge? That glorious, thick, gloopy, unknown substance that was the bane of hapless gameshow contestants in the late 90s and early noughties?

Most gunge is made of Natrosol, which is apparently also used to make the sauce in apple pies. Which made me wonder why people often seem so desperate to spit it out. I like apples.

As such, I conducted my own scientific investigation: I ate some Natrosol. It tasted like shit and not like apples. Not really sure why.

Back to why I like gunge though.

Gunge isn’t just slop. It can’t be compared to the moist tissue gloop after a passionate night in, or even the result of catching your hand in a blender. Gunge has loads of deep, purposeful meanings, unlike jizz and mashed body parts.

So gunge isn’t just a pretty face.

In fact, let’s take this further. The decline of our society can be directly linked to the lack of gunging. What gunging taught us was responsibility. If you mess up, you have to face the consequences. Gunge didn’t skirt around a problem, gunge took it on. It wasn’t afraid to piss people off.

Gunge wasn’t about phrases like “good effort” or “you tried your best”. Gunge gave people a reason to aim high and provided a means of bringing them crashing back down to the ground if they messed up. It was a beautiful dose of reality that could be called upon at any time. Gunge was always there for us.

You’re a shit ginger? GUNGE. You don’t know a basic piece of trivia? GUNGE. You’re boring everyone? GUNGE.

GUNGE GUNGE GUNGE.

Take everyone’s favourite all-purpose bellend Philip Schofield. Nowadays his smug grin and deliberately grey hair have the pleasure of sitting next to Polly Willyboobies, or whatever her name is, on This Morning. He doesn’t face any consequences for making TV viewers headbutt walls in an attempt to drown out the sound of his voice with the sound of their own skulls cracking.

Old era: Schofield didn’t get away with being so shit when I was a young’un

Today’s scale of humiliation pales in comparison. I don’t want to see a buzzer when someone fails on Britain’s Got Talent. I want to see a trapdoor open beneath the contestants, opening into an abyss of national humiliation. Maybe gunge isn’t enough.  Maybe this is bigger than gunge.

I want firey rock formed on the surface of Hell itself to engulf gameshow contestants. I want them to fall into a pit of freezing water, only for an impenetrable layer of ice to instantly form over them. Do they have enough talent to break a 3 inch thick layer of super-ice? That would require real passion. Are you passionate enough?

Maybe then we’d start getting people on our screens who’d thought carefully about being there.

Fuck that

Gunge is obviously great for kids. Let’s take a moment to admire Get Your Own Back, a show in which intelligence was rewarded and stupidity punished. My personal favourite question from this next vid is, “What is the fifth letter of the alphabet?” Young Ross nails the response.

Anyway, I really hope I’ve raised awareness about why gunge is important. I think it’s easy for people to overlook serious problems in society nowadays and a lack of gunge is certainly one of them.

After all, a bit of gunja never did anyone any harm.

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Should Groan Hardsley gunge himself live on the internet? Should he put his hand in a blender?

Let us know in the comments below.