I was quite surprised to read that, apparently, easyJet are taking a pop at Netflix. Netflix has a show called Easy (now in its third series) and easyJet reckons that’s infringing on its European trademarks.
I very much admire the Netflix rep who was quoted in The Guardian as saying that customers could tell the difference between watching a TV show and getting on an aeroplane.
You’d hope so huh?
I am not a lawyer, but isn't this whole situation taking the proverbial?
How is it possible to own a word like easy? Surely that’s part of our rich everyday language.
Hasn’t easy had its own wide and wonderful meanings for years?
There’s easy in terms of the overly sexually active without too much wooing, easy as in reclining in comfort, easy as in being a target, easy as in being free from worries and my favourite – easy peasy lemon squeezy.
Which easy is being hoarded here?
The company surely can’t be protecting its right to be known as a comfort reclining airline, so it’s not the easy chair, and it’s certainly not going to be the sexually active meaning.
It’s an easy target to ridicule (see what I did there?), but it certainly can’t mean being free from worries as no one I know who has taken easyJet – including myself – has been able to travel stress free.
It reminds me of McDonald’s and its global struggle to own a name which has been freely given and shared among generations for centuries.
Poor you if it’s your name and you want to make a business, that’s tough luck as it’s never going to happen without you being sued for so much money you won’t even be able to afford a happy meal.
Perhaps as native speakers of English we should, as a collective whole, lawyer up our dictionary and protect every word in it in order to stop those who seek to profit from them.
And, we should list our names, first, last and middle.
I’ve already lost the battle for mine to a famous-ish singer. I can only hope she doesn’t try to own it, or the activewear company who makes leisure pants under my moniker.
It’s hard work living your life constantly through a lens
I was looking for a photograph from my childhood the other day and was quite overcome to see that I had managed to squash 17 years into one yellowed and sticky album.
Admittedly it is a big album, but still, all those years in just one book.
It’s based around the expenses of photography back then, the film and developing and keeping those 24 or 36 exposures really safe for special moments.
Nowadays, we need about 17 albums for one year if we are to print out all the images which we take.
One album for food, one for spider webs, one for hair.
It’s made me reflect on the stress the Instagram generation must feel to be constantly on show.
First world problems in a tube of anti-frizz cream
Is there anything worse than the pain of your favourite hair product being discontinued?
Well, yes, probably, but it’s still uber annoying especially when you have curly hair and nothing else quite holds it together as well as that one thing.
This is quite a serious issue, I kid you not. In my case salvation was in a tube of slightly sticky cheap ASDA frizz cream which had exactly the right combination of strength and shine to create the perfect mop.
Sadly it’s gone from the shelves without warning.
I would have bought up a year’s supply even if the lettering did peel off the tube and flake on my hands.
A small price to pay for almost hair perfection.