I faithfully purchased a Whole Earth drink some time ago, because the pack communicated to me a seriously fruity promise. Organic Cranberry was writ large across the can and it has been needling me ever since because the proportion of cranberry juice in this drink is only 4%, so that’s 96% made up of stuff that has got nothing to do with delicious health giving little cranberries. I might never have looked if my taste buds hadn’t been so indignant. I felt stupid and conned.

If you go to Whole Earth’s website it all feels very wholesome and they say this about their sparkling drinks: ’Our organic sparkling drinks are bursting with bubbles and real fruit juice. They’re a thirst-quenching and healthier option, containing no artificial flavours or additives, so why not refresh your day with our range of 6 delicious flavours?’

Now I don’t know what your idea of ‘bursting with’ is but if you look at the small print you might be in for a surprise: as I’ve already pointed out Whole Earth’s ‘Sparkling Organic Cranberry Drink made with fruit juice’ has 4% cranberry juice in it, made from concentrate, oh and there’s a whole 1% organic lemon juice, made from concentrate. That’s a drink called Cranberry that has doesn’t have a whole lot of cranberry juice about it and only 5% juice at all. Then there’s Sparkling Organic Elderflower drink made with real fruit juice, well it does have 15% apple juice, made from concentrate, 3% grape juice, made from concentrate and 2% lemon juice, yes you guessed it, made from concentrate. But when it comes to the elderflower bit, the big sell on the can, it lists: natural elderflower flavouring (presumably not from elderflower) and elderflower extract, with no percentage at all, presumably because it is so low. And it’s a similar story for the rest of the range.

I do understand the economics of production and the need to make a healthy margin, but I believe that brands that play these types of marketing games will get found out, particularly ones which play the wholesome card.

Some confectionery brands are not much better, take Bassett’s Jelly Babies which declares ‘Made with real fruit juice’ on the front of the pack. A quick look on the back of the Jellies Babies bag reveals that these chewy chappies are made with just 6.8% fruit juice and using that good old concentrate again, which doesn’t sound so clever. Now I kind of forgive Jelly Babies because I’ve always thought they were 99% sugar and gum and they still taste great, but do they really have to play the wholesome card?

I guess some might argue that consumers are colluding in this little game, happy to con themselves that they are consuming significant proportions of health giving ingredients in the products they buy, but I wonder for how long? Remember the fate of that really fruity drink that was launched to such fanfare a few years ago, Sunny D’something or other?

The Orange advertising promised a wonderful future and it is still an aspirational brand, but it has lost out to the clout and distribution of the big boys. By contrast to Orange’s emotional promise, T-Mobile’s arrival on the scene ten years ago, when it swallowed One 2 One, heralded a wooden and cliched brand marketing campaign, so obviously imposed upon the UK by the brand’s German parent.

T-Mobile’s marketing only recovered in the last 12 months, with wonderful crowd dancing in railway stations (very much not of the David Brent style!), but too little too late. One can only assume that T-Mobile will quietly disappear as the much more evocative Orange is chosen to take on Vodafone and O2.

I did learn two important lessions from that non-too fiery baptism, the first was the responsibility of those in senior positions to be decent and supportive to those with less experience and second the importance of a clear and focused consumer offer. Even 25 years ago our research could not quite get to grips with what Woolworths was about.

Over the last ten years or so Nestle and the other great instant coffee brand owners have been desperately trying to convince us that instant coffee is more than a poor cousin to those glamorous inheritors of the epitome coffee mantle: Starbucks/Costa/Caffe Nero/et al. While the instant coffee market bears the same ingredient name as the coffee bar market, any similarities stop there. Instant coffee is DIY, involving a jar, kettle and carton of milk; coffee bar coffee is gleaming Italian machinery, comfy sofas and indulgent temptation.