#bovrilgate *UPDATED*

A million miles away from my last post, I agree, but my husbands obsession really needs bringing out in to the open.

It should read “Hi, my name is Mark and I have a Bovril addiction”

In his younger days Mark would go to the football and stand on the terraces with his Grandfather. Half time would come round, and like any football fan (me included) they would get a pie and a Bovril to fill them up and keep them warm. Perfectly acceptable I hear you say….


I am not quite sure where the recent addiction came from. I just remember being sent to the shop for ready made cups of the stuff.

Now I am not the biggest fan of the stuff, I will be honest, and why anybody would want to drink gravy I have no idea. I suppose it is like the Marmite “love it or hate it” slogan. Although, I wouldn’t go as far as too say I hate it.

Within a short amount of time we had masses of the little cups, seemed the natural progression was to get a jar. This didn’t taste the same apparently. Now I love my husband immensely, but the childish tantrum he had because he couldn’t get the flavour right was uncalled for and quite frankly hilarious.

bovril jar

We went to visit a friend of ours and they got talking about their passion for the brown stuff. Turns out you can get Bovril cubes (Who knew? I tried to sound overwhelmed by this news, but there is only so much excitement I can show). Turns out, he had some for him to try ….. Whoop! The flavour was “spot on”.

bovril cubes

So, on the way home, we went on a mission to find the cubes, easier said than done. Three shops later and we managed to track some down and I had a happy husband.

He had a supply at home, a supply at work and a supply in his work bag. (Told you he was addicted, although he will argue that my peppermint tea fetish is of similar stature but I deny any knowledge of such addiction).

So, I hear you asking, what is #bovrilgate all about? Well, one average, run of the mill shift at work Mark goes for his break, reaches for his Bovril in the break room, only to realise it had gone.

Mark made it his mission to find out who had stolen the Bovril. He asked around and on his Facebook to no avail. Now being a keen social media man he started to tag all of his “What has happened to my Bovril” posts with #bovrilgate. This he tells me was to reiterate how annoyed he was that someone had the nerve to take it.

#bovrilgate went from strength to strength, people at work joined in with tags and even developed their own #prayformarksbovril. Profile pictures on Social Media were changed, statuses were created and the security footage was even looked at from the break room. (Yes, really!)


Turns out we still do not know what happened to the Bovril. I would like to tell you that they had a happy reunion, but nope. I am convinced he binned it without realising.

Where are we now? Well, Mark now carries his Bovril with him in his own little lunch bag. He carries it with his own Bovril mug, which also gets put in the lunch bag. He now also, searches aimlessly for Bovril memorabilia items on Ebay.


bovril bag

There you have it, #bovrilgate. We have safely established that for all the serious stuff that goes on in life, I do in fact have a husband that keeps me amused. He insists that he drinks it as it is only 10 calories a cup and so much better than a coffee would be, but should we run dry, then OMG don’t we know it. Oh and it turns out, it tastes better if you add pepper to it before consumption!

More importantly he believes that he does not have an addiction but denial is a sign, right?

#savemarksbovril #savemarkswife

*** UPDATE***

It is with a heavy heart that I bring you some sad news.

On the way to work yesterday, Mark’s trusty lunch bag took a tumble.

Upon arriving at work Mark went to have his Bovril and discovered that his trusty Bovril cup had come of worse for wear, breaking in the bag.




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