Of course, Twitter exploded. People are posting memes of the new logo where “Tg” is replaced with “WTF.” One viral post shows a picture of a confused dog standing in front of the store with the caption, “Even my pet thinks this is weird.” Another user claimed they saw a sign that accidentally read “Tg Jones & Son’s Emporium of Elbow Grease,” though that was probably a Photoshop hoax. Or a cry for help.
WHSmith name rebranded to TGJones for Corby Willow Place shoppers
Let’s be honest: WHSmith was already the place you go to buy a single birthday card and a pack of batteries while sighing deeply. Now it’s the place you go to ponder the meaning of branding while holding a bottle of water that costs more than a cinema ticket. The name change doesn’t make the shop more exciting—it just makes you say, “Huh, that’s odd,” and then buy the water anyway.
Will Anyone Miss WHSmith?
According to a poll I just invented, 68% of people didn’t even notice the change until their third visit. The other 32% are now convinced it’s a front for something—like a secret underground society of people who really, really love stationery. But here’s the real twist: Trevor “Tg” Jones once worked at a rival shop called “Smith’s Stationery.” This rebranding is essentially a 50-year-old act of revenge. And WHSmith, being the absolute chaotic neutral deity of high street retail, is totally fine with that.
So the next time you walk into a Tg Jones, don’t panic. Buy a Kit Kat, admire the terrifying picture of the stamp-licking hero, and remember: this is a temporary madness. Come next month, the signs will flip back, and we’ll all pretend this never happened. Like that time everyone wore Crocs to the office. Except now, you’ll forever wonder what Trevor’s other initial stood for. (It’s “Gerald.” And yes, that makes it better.)
In the end, maybe we should all embrace a little Tg Jones energy. Be weird. Lick stamps. Change your name for a month just to confuse people. Because if a 150-year-old shop can pull this off, you can absolutely wear mismatched socks to your next Zoom meeting. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to buy a commemorative pencil. For the story.
