The Sharky is a tea-infuser that circles slowly, its accompanying John Williams score inactual but mnemonically incumbent, trickling rivulets of copper-like gore through the steaming, tranquil pool in your cuppa.
Charlie Sorrel over at Gadget Lab, who spotted it, queries:
This macabre synergy changes the way I think about my national brew. Who before ever saw the reddish brown stains dropping cloudy tendrils through hot water and thought “blood”? Not you, and not me.
But definitely me: the orange-brown diffusions of earl grey have often reminded me of the welling and diffusion of aqueously spilt blood. My morning tea always reminds me of one tranquil summer day at the seashore, and pretty Sally in her swimsuit, who just wouldn’t stop strutting before the boys, and the anger and hurt and rage and hate until I am suddenly alone, crying, bobbing in a pool of red, far past the point where lifeguards still descry.