Virgin Cola

Fair play to Richard Branson, he gets most things right. The madcap entrepreneur owns the world famous Virgin brand and runs successful airlines, train networks, music festivals and even now his own Formula One racing team. But Virgin Cola was a mistake.

Branson decided to take on the American giants of Coca Cola and Pepsi by releasing his own drink in 1994. It came in curvy bottles called “the Pammy” to continue with Virgin’s jovial image, but just like Miss Anderson’s bra size throughout the decade Virgin Cola went tits up.

It did achieve initial success with Branson gaining a 50% market share in Britain when it was first launched and looked to be a serious threat to the established American brands. He even managed to get Monica, Chandler and co to drink it in “Friends” as he aimed to take the battle of the beverages Stateside.

Never one to do low-key launches, the silver-haired billionaire rode into Times Square in New York on a tank, declaring war with the red and blue brands. In similar fashion to his attempts to circumnavigate the globe in a hot-air balloon in the 90s, sales of Virgin Cola crashed and quickly disappeared across the pond.

It then began to fizzle out over here as people realised that it just wasn’t as nice as Coca Cola. I didn’t particularly mind it but it was a poor man’s Coke, after all why would you date Alexandra Burke if you could get with Rihanna?

And slowly but surely it began to disappear. The only major supermarket to keep selling it was Asda, and it was even stopped being sold on Virgin Trains as no-one would buy it. Apparently it is still forced upon people on board Virgin flights, but that’s only because there’s no-where else to buy a drink 20,000 feet in the air.

And yes you did read that correctly, Branson hasn’t put a lid on Virgin Cola just yet. Even though I haven’t spotted a silver shaped bottle in the shops for years on end it is still available from most bad newsagents, and there have been quiet attempts to re-introduce it to America too.

Many Virgin brands have taken a while to take off (a bit like his planes) but gradually become successful, but surely nearly 20 years of trying to break the drinks market is enough? If Branson is too stubborn to scrap his attempts it could leave him, just like those who drank it, with a bad taste in the mouth.

Sunny Delight

Now I know you can still get Sunny Delight in the shops today, but to me it’s not a patch on when it was first launched in 1996 in the UK.

It was packed full of sugar and although it looked like orange juice and hinted that it was a healthier alternative to fizzy drinks it was just as bad. But kids everywhere guzzled down Sunny D not caring that it was basically syrup, just that it tasted so good.

Parents thought that the drink was healthy and were chuffed that their kids were gulping it down in large amounts. As I am not a fan of fruit juices I didn’t want to try it at first and stuck with my Coca Cola, but after trying a little bit in our fridge one day I was hooked.

I remember me and my sister finishing off bottles like George Best and demanding more from my mum. But it was not so much because we were hooked on the drink, no we wanted enough tokens to get ourselves a Sunny Delight basketball!

When the ball had been delivered we kept drinking it anyway, after all it was rather refreshing to have a fruity/sugary drink that was also chilled in the fridge after a long day playing outside in the summer holidays with our new toy.

But then there was the report that a girl had actually changed colour after drinking so much of the stuff. The chemicals in it had gotten into her skin and she started glowing yellow. Parents were horrified, especially as at the time their advertising campaign was of a snowman drinking Sunny D and turning yellow himself.

After such a promising start sales slumped and they were forced to relaunch it with a new recipe. By then I’d gone back to Coke and if I wanted a bit more fruitiness in my beverages then I’d go for a Fanta, safe in the knowledge it wasn’t going to make me look like a character from “The Simpsons”.

After spotting it in the supermarket last summer I wondered whether it could still be the same syrupy drink that I had crave all these years, so I shelled out some of my hard earned cash (well, student loan) to find it was now 70% fruit juice. Three sips later it was thrown in the bin knowing I’d never enjoy the original taste again.

The nation on the whole agrees with me and no-one pays too much attention to it any more. Sunny Delight is unloved and has seen better days, just like the deflated basketball in my garden shed at home.