Popular Aussie chocolate recalled
Cadbury Australia is conducting a recall of its 10-piece share bag of Marvellous Creations with jelly and popping candy beanies.
The 160g chocolate is sold at Coles, Woolworths, Drakes, The Reject Shop, IGA and independent retailers across the country.
The company says the product may contain plastic, which could cause illness or injury if consumed. Cadbury Australia is recalling its 10-piece sharebag of Marvellous Creations Jelly Popping Candy Beanies. Supplied Credit: Supplied
'Consumers should not eat this product … (and) should return the product to the place of purchase for a full refund,' the recall notice issued by Food Standards Australia states.
'Any consumers concerned about their health should seek medical advice.'
The recall covers Marvellous Creations products with a best before date of May 21, 2026.
The company says no other Cadbury Australia products have been affected by the recall.
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The Advertiser
a day ago
- The Advertiser
Cheat sheet: the five stages of strewth
There are few words in the Australian vernacular that carry as much emotional range as "strewth". It's not just a word; it's a reaction, a philosophy, and for many, a coping mechanism. Whether you've stubbed your toe, spotted a funnel-web in your gumboot, or just found out the schooners are now $10, "strewth" is there for you, like a warm Bunnings snag on a cold Saturday morning. The word itself comes from a clipped version of 'God's truth', a centuries-old oath carried over from Britain, softened by time and Aussie inflection until it became less a solemn vow and more a casual exhale of disbelief. Like grief, "strewth" follows a pattern. A uniquely Australian one. And while Elisabeth Kubler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, I reckon it's time we formally recognised the five stages of strewth. Because, let's be honest: in modern Australia, we say "strewth" a lot more than we say "I'm deeply in denial about this life-changing event". So here it is. The definitive guide to the five stages of strewth. Consider this your emotional cheat sheet for surviving everyday Australia. This is your entry-level strewth. Delivered with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head. A low-stakes surprise, often encountered when something's a bit off, but not yet catastrophic. "Strewth... that kookaburra just nicked me snag off the barbie." It's part curiosity, part admiration. You're not angry. You're just trying to process how reality took a left turn without indicating. Something has escalated. The vowel gets longer. Your voice rises in pitch. This stage is usually triggered by events that interrupt comfort, like discovering the servo's out of iced coffee or that the NBN's dropped out mid-Origin. "Strewwwth! The bottle-o shuts in five!" You're not panicking yet, but you've moved beyond mild puzzlement into urgent recalibration of your evening. This is it. Peak strewth. The head jerks back. Eyebrows vanish into your hat brim. The arms may flail. Sometimes accompanied by a step backward and a profanity. "STREWTH! He just drove straight through the roundabout like it wasn't even there!" This is the moment when adrenaline takes the wheel. A spontaneous reaction to something outrageous, dangerous, or just very, very Australian. The tone flattens. You've seen too much. You've been here before. You're not even surprised anymore, you're just tired. "Strewth, mate... another election ad already?" This is the sigh that follows a decade of power bills rising and public transport timetables being "optimised." It's the shrug of a man watching a magpie attack his windscreen wipers for the third day running. You're not okay, but you're functioning. This is the final stage. You don't even say the word anymore. Your eyes say it for you. The silence is louder than shouting. Often seen in Bunnings car parks or after particularly bad parking jobs. Notices two pelicans fighting over a kebab while a council worker referees. Nods slowly. You've evolved beyond speech. You've gone full Buddha on the barbie. It's not that you're numb, it's that you've finally accepted the full, absurd glory of life in this sunburnt country. In a world increasingly full of jargon, trigger warnings, and carefully curated expressions of emotion, "strewth" remains refreshingly unsanitised. It's raw. It's real. It's as much at home in the bush as it is on Beaumont Street on a Friday night. Sure, it might not appear in HR-approved corporate emails, but it captures something deeper than a KPI ever could. "Strewth" is our way of saying: I'm here. I'm witnessing this. I cannot believe what I've just seen, but I will soldier on, probably in thongs, probably holding a half-melted Drumstick. So the next time life hits you sideways with a kangaroo in the drive-thru or a tradie in a tuxedo, don't fight it. Don't overthink it. Just look to the horizon, take a breath, and let it out: Strewth. There are few words in the Australian vernacular that carry as much emotional range as "strewth". It's not just a word; it's a reaction, a philosophy, and for many, a coping mechanism. Whether you've stubbed your toe, spotted a funnel-web in your gumboot, or just found out the schooners are now $10, "strewth" is there for you, like a warm Bunnings snag on a cold Saturday morning. The word itself comes from a clipped version of 'God's truth', a centuries-old oath carried over from Britain, softened by time and Aussie inflection until it became less a solemn vow and more a casual exhale of disbelief. Like grief, "strewth" follows a pattern. A uniquely Australian one. And while Elisabeth Kubler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, I reckon it's time we formally recognised the five stages of strewth. Because, let's be honest: in modern Australia, we say "strewth" a lot more than we say "I'm deeply in denial about this life-changing event". So here it is. The definitive guide to the five stages of strewth. Consider this your emotional cheat sheet for surviving everyday Australia. This is your entry-level strewth. Delivered with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head. A low-stakes surprise, often encountered when something's a bit off, but not yet catastrophic. "Strewth... that kookaburra just nicked me snag off the barbie." It's part curiosity, part admiration. You're not angry. You're just trying to process how reality took a left turn without indicating. Something has escalated. The vowel gets longer. Your voice rises in pitch. This stage is usually triggered by events that interrupt comfort, like discovering the servo's out of iced coffee or that the NBN's dropped out mid-Origin. "Strewwwth! The bottle-o shuts in five!" You're not panicking yet, but you've moved beyond mild puzzlement into urgent recalibration of your evening. This is it. Peak strewth. The head jerks back. Eyebrows vanish into your hat brim. The arms may flail. Sometimes accompanied by a step backward and a profanity. "STREWTH! He just drove straight through the roundabout like it wasn't even there!" This is the moment when adrenaline takes the wheel. A spontaneous reaction to something outrageous, dangerous, or just very, very Australian. The tone flattens. You've seen too much. You've been here before. You're not even surprised anymore, you're just tired. "Strewth, mate... another election ad already?" This is the sigh that follows a decade of power bills rising and public transport timetables being "optimised." It's the shrug of a man watching a magpie attack his windscreen wipers for the third day running. You're not okay, but you're functioning. This is the final stage. You don't even say the word anymore. Your eyes say it for you. The silence is louder than shouting. Often seen in Bunnings car parks or after particularly bad parking jobs. Notices two pelicans fighting over a kebab while a council worker referees. Nods slowly. You've evolved beyond speech. You've gone full Buddha on the barbie. It's not that you're numb, it's that you've finally accepted the full, absurd glory of life in this sunburnt country. In a world increasingly full of jargon, trigger warnings, and carefully curated expressions of emotion, "strewth" remains refreshingly unsanitised. It's raw. It's real. It's as much at home in the bush as it is on Beaumont Street on a Friday night. Sure, it might not appear in HR-approved corporate emails, but it captures something deeper than a KPI ever could. "Strewth" is our way of saying: I'm here. I'm witnessing this. I cannot believe what I've just seen, but I will soldier on, probably in thongs, probably holding a half-melted Drumstick. So the next time life hits you sideways with a kangaroo in the drive-thru or a tradie in a tuxedo, don't fight it. Don't overthink it. Just look to the horizon, take a breath, and let it out: Strewth. There are few words in the Australian vernacular that carry as much emotional range as "strewth". It's not just a word; it's a reaction, a philosophy, and for many, a coping mechanism. Whether you've stubbed your toe, spotted a funnel-web in your gumboot, or just found out the schooners are now $10, "strewth" is there for you, like a warm Bunnings snag on a cold Saturday morning. The word itself comes from a clipped version of 'God's truth', a centuries-old oath carried over from Britain, softened by time and Aussie inflection until it became less a solemn vow and more a casual exhale of disbelief. Like grief, "strewth" follows a pattern. A uniquely Australian one. And while Elisabeth Kubler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, I reckon it's time we formally recognised the five stages of strewth. Because, let's be honest: in modern Australia, we say "strewth" a lot more than we say "I'm deeply in denial about this life-changing event". So here it is. The definitive guide to the five stages of strewth. Consider this your emotional cheat sheet for surviving everyday Australia. This is your entry-level strewth. Delivered with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head. A low-stakes surprise, often encountered when something's a bit off, but not yet catastrophic. "Strewth... that kookaburra just nicked me snag off the barbie." It's part curiosity, part admiration. You're not angry. You're just trying to process how reality took a left turn without indicating. Something has escalated. The vowel gets longer. Your voice rises in pitch. This stage is usually triggered by events that interrupt comfort, like discovering the servo's out of iced coffee or that the NBN's dropped out mid-Origin. "Strewwwth! The bottle-o shuts in five!" You're not panicking yet, but you've moved beyond mild puzzlement into urgent recalibration of your evening. This is it. Peak strewth. The head jerks back. Eyebrows vanish into your hat brim. The arms may flail. Sometimes accompanied by a step backward and a profanity. "STREWTH! He just drove straight through the roundabout like it wasn't even there!" This is the moment when adrenaline takes the wheel. A spontaneous reaction to something outrageous, dangerous, or just very, very Australian. The tone flattens. You've seen too much. You've been here before. You're not even surprised anymore, you're just tired. "Strewth, mate... another election ad already?" This is the sigh that follows a decade of power bills rising and public transport timetables being "optimised." It's the shrug of a man watching a magpie attack his windscreen wipers for the third day running. You're not okay, but you're functioning. This is the final stage. You don't even say the word anymore. Your eyes say it for you. The silence is louder than shouting. Often seen in Bunnings car parks or after particularly bad parking jobs. Notices two pelicans fighting over a kebab while a council worker referees. Nods slowly. You've evolved beyond speech. You've gone full Buddha on the barbie. It's not that you're numb, it's that you've finally accepted the full, absurd glory of life in this sunburnt country. In a world increasingly full of jargon, trigger warnings, and carefully curated expressions of emotion, "strewth" remains refreshingly unsanitised. It's raw. It's real. It's as much at home in the bush as it is on Beaumont Street on a Friday night. Sure, it might not appear in HR-approved corporate emails, but it captures something deeper than a KPI ever could. "Strewth" is our way of saying: I'm here. I'm witnessing this. I cannot believe what I've just seen, but I will soldier on, probably in thongs, probably holding a half-melted Drumstick. So the next time life hits you sideways with a kangaroo in the drive-thru or a tradie in a tuxedo, don't fight it. Don't overthink it. Just look to the horizon, take a breath, and let it out: Strewth. There are few words in the Australian vernacular that carry as much emotional range as "strewth". It's not just a word; it's a reaction, a philosophy, and for many, a coping mechanism. Whether you've stubbed your toe, spotted a funnel-web in your gumboot, or just found out the schooners are now $10, "strewth" is there for you, like a warm Bunnings snag on a cold Saturday morning. The word itself comes from a clipped version of 'God's truth', a centuries-old oath carried over from Britain, softened by time and Aussie inflection until it became less a solemn vow and more a casual exhale of disbelief. Like grief, "strewth" follows a pattern. A uniquely Australian one. And while Elisabeth Kubler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, I reckon it's time we formally recognised the five stages of strewth. Because, let's be honest: in modern Australia, we say "strewth" a lot more than we say "I'm deeply in denial about this life-changing event". So here it is. The definitive guide to the five stages of strewth. Consider this your emotional cheat sheet for surviving everyday Australia. This is your entry-level strewth. Delivered with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head. A low-stakes surprise, often encountered when something's a bit off, but not yet catastrophic. "Strewth... that kookaburra just nicked me snag off the barbie." It's part curiosity, part admiration. You're not angry. You're just trying to process how reality took a left turn without indicating. Something has escalated. The vowel gets longer. Your voice rises in pitch. This stage is usually triggered by events that interrupt comfort, like discovering the servo's out of iced coffee or that the NBN's dropped out mid-Origin. "Strewwwth! The bottle-o shuts in five!" You're not panicking yet, but you've moved beyond mild puzzlement into urgent recalibration of your evening. This is it. Peak strewth. The head jerks back. Eyebrows vanish into your hat brim. The arms may flail. Sometimes accompanied by a step backward and a profanity. "STREWTH! He just drove straight through the roundabout like it wasn't even there!" This is the moment when adrenaline takes the wheel. A spontaneous reaction to something outrageous, dangerous, or just very, very Australian. The tone flattens. You've seen too much. You've been here before. You're not even surprised anymore, you're just tired. "Strewth, mate... another election ad already?" This is the sigh that follows a decade of power bills rising and public transport timetables being "optimised." It's the shrug of a man watching a magpie attack his windscreen wipers for the third day running. You're not okay, but you're functioning. This is the final stage. You don't even say the word anymore. Your eyes say it for you. The silence is louder than shouting. Often seen in Bunnings car parks or after particularly bad parking jobs. Notices two pelicans fighting over a kebab while a council worker referees. Nods slowly. You've evolved beyond speech. You've gone full Buddha on the barbie. It's not that you're numb, it's that you've finally accepted the full, absurd glory of life in this sunburnt country. In a world increasingly full of jargon, trigger warnings, and carefully curated expressions of emotion, "strewth" remains refreshingly unsanitised. It's raw. It's real. It's as much at home in the bush as it is on Beaumont Street on a Friday night. Sure, it might not appear in HR-approved corporate emails, but it captures something deeper than a KPI ever could. "Strewth" is our way of saying: I'm here. I'm witnessing this. I cannot believe what I've just seen, but I will soldier on, probably in thongs, probably holding a half-melted Drumstick. So the next time life hits you sideways with a kangaroo in the drive-thru or a tradie in a tuxedo, don't fight it. Don't overthink it. Just look to the horizon, take a breath, and let it out: Strewth.
News.com.au
a day ago
- News.com.au
Stand or sit? The great toilet debate dividing Aussie men
An age-old debate has re-emerged this week, reopening the floodgates on one of the nation's great public toilet debates – just how many Aussie men are choosing a stall rather than a urinal when nature calls. In simple terms, when it comes to doing a number one, do men prefer to sit or stand? The discussion was kicked off on Reddit, where all good toilet debates often start, and it attracted hundreds of comments within hours. The woman who shared the post wrote: 'So all this started when I was asking my husband if it's weird to know that every person you 'go after' in the cubicle has done a number two. 'He said, not necessarily. I'm like, whaaaaatttt? He proceeds to tell me there is a percentage of men who use the cubicle for a wee.' She ended the post, saying, 'Please tell me if this is true or if he's having a laugh'. The comments rolled in, with each side passionately arguing their case. 'I've been using a cubicle since the first time I used a urinal while wearing shorts. There's a tremendous amount of splashback on the legs that I was completely oblivious to prior to that,' said one man. 'A sit-down wee is underrated,' another 'sitzpinkler' said (a German term for a man who sits down to urinate). 'I'm getting old, I need to sit down, one day you'll understand,' wrote another cubicle-goer. Others said there's often social discomfort when using urinals. 'I don't want to stand next to other blokes with my d**k out as we all stand on this metal grate splashing each other's boots with wee, feels weird,' wrote one. Another said it was a hygiene-related choice: 'I saw a video of how far pee can spread when it hits the urinal and have used the cubicle ever since'. Others on 'team cubicle' raised points of 'not having to aim,' 'never any mess to clean,' and 'sitting is more comfortable'. Meanwhile, yet another commenter agreed that the concept of urinals was strange. 'I am literally gay and I still find this bizarre. Standing next to some random guy p*ssing on a wall, p*ss splashing everywhere. No thanks, I want privacy when I go to the toilet,' they said. 'It's the worst thing ever,' someone else chimed in. 'I reckon it's some old-fashioned holdover, the fact that these things still exist'. It's true that urinals go back a long way, though their design has evolved over time. The very first urinals existed in ancient civilisations, with archaeological evidence pointing to stone-carved urinals in Sri Lanka as far back as the 9th century. The modern public urinal as we know it today came into being in 19th-century Paris. In 1834, Claude-Philibert Barthelot de Rambuteau introduced the 'pissoir' – a public urinal system designed to curb public urination in city streets. As urban planning evolved and public sanitation concerns grew, these open-air chambers transitioned to more private urinals inside enclosed toilet blocks in the 19th century. Despite many people turning their backs on the modern-day urinal, some still prefer it over sitting down. 'I don't want to have to touch the cubicle door, so it's the urinal for me,' said someone. 'Urinals for me too – it's usually quicker,' added another. There were also those in the Reddit thread who took a situational approach when deciding whether to stand or sit. 'Only use the cubicle for a wee if the urinal is full and there's a cubicle free,' shared one. And another said: 'I'll only use urinals if I'm the only one around or if they have dividers or there's enough distance from the next person'. 'Whichever one's free,' someone else wrote. A 2023 study by YouGov surveyed men from 13 different countries to see how many sit down when they urinate. The study found Aussie men are among the most enthusiastic sitters, with 25 per cent saying they always sit down to pee. That was the second-highest after Germany (40 per cent), where signs telling men to sit down are common in public toilets. Mexican men were the least likely to sit down at all. So, what's better for health? According to leading GP, Dr Zac, if you're healthy, either way is fine, but if you have Lower Urinary Tract Symptoms, sitting is best. 'For men with no urinary issues, going number one standing vs. sitting doesn't make a difference,' Dr Zac told 'Flow rate, emptying time, post-emptying leftovers – are essentially identical whether you're standing or sitting'. However, men dealing with urinary symptoms might benefit from sitting, he says. A 2014 meta-analysis by researchers from Leiden University Department of Urology in the Netherlands found that, for men with lower urinary tract symptoms, 'the sitting voiding position is preferable to the standing'. Health considerations aside, Dr Zac says it's time society lets go of the idea that standing is the more 'manly' choice. 'Society will nudge you into thinking this, but health-wise sitting has your back (and pelvic floor). It's 2025, not 1883, and we've moved past the idea that only 'real men' stand to pee,' he said.
Perth Now
2 days ago
- Perth Now
Popular Aussie chocolate recalled
A popular Cadbury chocolate block sold across Aussie supermarkets has been recalled amid concerns about 'foreign' matter in the product. Cadbury Australia is conducting a recall of its 10-piece share bag of Marvellous Creations with jelly and popping candy beanies. The 160g chocolate is sold at Coles, Woolworths, Drakes, The Reject Shop, IGA and independent retailers across the country. The company says the product may contain plastic, which could cause illness or injury if consumed. Cadbury Australia is recalling its 10-piece sharebag of Marvellous Creations Jelly Popping Candy Beanies. Supplied Credit: Supplied 'Consumers should not eat this product … (and) should return the product to the place of purchase for a full refund,' the recall notice issued by Food Standards Australia states. 'Any consumers concerned about their health should seek medical advice.' The recall covers Marvellous Creations products with a best before date of May 21, 2026. The company says no other Cadbury Australia products have been affected by the recall.
