Apocalypse. House!
September 15th, 2010 // 3:56 pm @ andy // No Comments yet
Hello there. You’ll never believe it. Today I find myself once again troubled by an advert on the telly. It’s that that new ‘Jackpot Joy, Queen of Bingo’ thing. My god, have you seen it? It’s got Barbara Windsor, of ‘Carry on, oops my tits have come out’ and ‘Eastenders, gerrrrrraaaaaarttttaaaaaamiiiiiiipaaaaaaab, Fiw, Fiw, why caaarnt you be maaaaaw like Gwaant ‘, fame and it’s deeply, deeply unsettling.
Filmed in a kind of Derek Jarman’s Jubilee / Ken Russell’s The Devil’s / The Avengers c1968 dream sequence, mashup stylee, it seemingly all takes place in a subterranean concrete bunker, ( or underground car park ), where a post apocalyptic society cling to the last vestiges of civilization.
Following the devastation of all humanity as we know it, and for reasons which may never be fully explained, Barbara/Peggy, all done up in Elizabethan style dress, fashioned from fire curtains, the blankets of the recently departed, christmas baubles, ping pong balls and irradiated fruits has apparently become Queen of the World. Now, surrounded by what we can only assume to be the strongest and most psychotic of the survivors, Babs/Peg holds sway over the remnants of the walking dead by way of a rudimentary economy based on the complimentary disciplines of brainwashing, relentless brutality and bingo. So far, so weird.
However, don’t get comfy, there’s more. As a seemingly drugged up, wigged out siren sings the praises of our ‘Bingo Queen so posh’, Bill the Butcher from Martin Scorcese’s ” Gangs of New York “, ( for it is he ), whips the shambling, dead-eyed Bingo junkies into a frenzy with his rallying cry of ” Oi, Oi, Oi! “, to which the only reply is, of course, “Jackpot Joy!” And woe betide anyone who fails in their response. Have you seen Gangs of New York? Did you see what B the B did to Walter McGill with that big mad axe? Yes? Well, ‘whoopsy daisies’. Need I say more?
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- Bill The Butcher
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- Jackpot Joy Man
Now, I don’t know about you but I really don’t glean any of the benefits of a new Internet-based Bingo website from great Queen Babs, big huge massive be-wigged minders, spooky flame-haired singers or Bill the Butcher. Frankly, it just makes me feel a little bit uncomfortable. Slightly nauseous even. There’s something a bit too druggy, surreal and creepy about the whole affair. I mean, don’t get me wrong,as a Manchester copywriter I like druggy, surreal and creepy as much as the next man. In fact, I’ve spent a great deal of time and money on the pursuit of all three over the years. I’m just not entirely convinced that online bingo is its natural habitat.
Still, I suppose it’s better than that bloody fox in a purple velvet suit.
All together now, Oi Oi Oi!
Category : Uncategorized
Vauxhall and die.
September 14th, 2010 // 2:49 pm @ andy // No Comments yet
Hello there. Today I’ve had a glimpse of my own mortality. Naturally this has left me feeling a little despondent, a little jaded, a little, well, mortal. Of course it’s not the first time I’ve been brought face to face with my impending death. It is, however, the first time the black abyss of eternal nothingness has been thrust into my face by an advertisement for a motor car. And not in a really great, ‘hurtling backwards through the pearly gates at 200 miles per hour in a blazing Lamborghini‘ kind of way. More in a ‘have we really come to this? In a grey family saloon, waiting at a roundabout, sucking on a Werthers Original’ kind of way.
And it’s all the fault of this bloody Vauxhall ad.
But why andy? Why oh why oh why? Why oh why oh why has this ad brought on an overwhelming feeling of despair rooted at the very core of your being andy? Why? Well, calm down a bit and I’ll tell you. Jesus.
It’s like this. It’s not just the overall dreadfulnes of the ad itself that’s done it. Although that bit about ‘not taking ourselves too seriously at times’, and thus undermining the ‘c’mon!‘ campaign, ( which was essentially a pretty nice piece of work, by Vauxhall standards, although not as good as the hide and seek Corsas ), is a bit grim. It’s that ‘warranty that could last a lifetime’ bit that’s to blame. Yes, I know, a ‘warranty that could last a lifetime’ is a great thing and not necessarily a reasonable excuse for an attack of deep existential angst and overwhelming sense of the futility of it all. It’s when you look a little closer at the offer that the full horror of it all rears up and smashes you right in the face. That ‘warranty that could last a lifetime’ is limited to 100,000 miles. That’s right, 100,000 miles.
Now I’ve been doing some research into mileages and a few sums and, according to the AA, ( that’s the Automobile Association, not Alcoholics Anonymous. I tried them first and to be frank, they were clueless about the subject. Not to say a bit rude on the phone ), the average annual mileage of cars in this country is 15,000 miles. So, work it out. According to Vauxhall, our life expectancy is round about 6.6 years. Now that’s bloody miles off ‘three score years and ten’ isn’t it? Now I don’t know about you but if I’ve only got 6.6 years to live, I’m not spending any of it in a bloody Vauxhall.
Especially not with the Grim Reaper in the back, saying “Are we nearly there?” every two minutes.
Category : Uncategorized
The Ad Critic: In depth analysis and deconstruction of 21st Century Advertising.
September 10th, 2010 // 2:54 pm @ andy // No Comments yet
Hello there. Once again it’s time for thatandywhiteblog and me, a respected Manchester copywriter, to take a serious, considered look at a TV advertisement currently running on our screens. This week sees the welcome return of Richmond sausages and it’s consistently innovative use of television.
Now isn’t that just unutterably, irredeemably f***ing awful?
Shamus O’Twinkle and his band of similarly musical and whimsical twinkly oirish brothers return to the maternal bosom, seemingly drawn inexorably home by the magic and the aroma of sizzling Irish pork. But that can’t be it really can it? For a start, Accordion O’Twinkle in the Bedford Nostalgia van is quite obviously not the full shilling is he? You just have to look into those slightly glazed eyes to see that his needs are more special than a plate of sausages. It’s a good thing that van door was locked or I wouldn’t have held out much hope for the girl on the pushbike. I’ve read some terrible things about men with accordions in vans.
Then there’s Double Bass on the bus O’Twinkle. I mean, people pumping out their bloody N’dubz through their bloody ‘phones are bad enough but some geezer playing an upright bass on the bottom deck would drive you to distraction wouldn’t it? Not only that but look where he’s standing. What happens when some poor single mother, struggling with a trolley tries to find a place to sit? And what of the little old ladies off to buy two ounces of haslet for their tea? Where are they supposed to go when some bastard with a bloody great double bass is blocking the aisle and the disabled seats? He’d be out the door, closely followed by a load of shattered mahogany and wire if that was my bus.
Then take a look at ‘Sticks’ O’Twinkle, beating out a little tattoo at the railway station. Check out those big leather straps on each wrist. Now, I’ve been around a bit and I’d put money on those straps being of the type used to manacle unruly patients to chairs whilst administering Electric Shock Aversion Therapy. There’s something deeply wrong with that boy and I shudder to think what’s in the suitcase he’s sitting on. I can’t see one in the picture but I’m pretty sure there’s going to be an abandoned pushbike, wheel still spinning, somewhere adjacent to that platform.
So there they are, the wandering boys beating a path to their mother’s door and tucking into a feast of sausages, mash and peas. Oh yes, it all looks so lovely doesn’t it? But who knows what evil lurks in the cold, black hearts of the O’Twinkle brothers and who knows why they’ve had to flee wherever they were staying to lie low at Ma O’Twinkle’s lair? The one thing to hope for is that they don’t reform the band after they’ve had their tea and release that bloody desperate song as a single.
That just doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?
Category : Uncategorized
Sold out.
September 6th, 2010 // 4:17 pm @ andy // 2 Comments
Hello there. Sorry thatandywhiteblog has been a tad quiet for the past few days. Had some of that pesky copywriting to do. Tsk.
Anyway, here I am, back again all refreshed, bright eyed, bushy tailed and ready for anything. Well, not quite anything as it turns out. What I wasn’t ready for is the revelation that there is now a Sex Pistols branded fragrance. Yes, that’s right, Sex Pistols scent. Or fragrancy in the UK perhaps. It’s manufactured by Elat Libre d’Orange in France and is, apparently, “pared down and pumped up by leather, shot through with heliotrope and brought back down to earth by a raunchy patchouli.” Well, I think we’ve all felt that way at least once, haven’t we? I suppose it was only to be expected after Johnny’s foray into Country Life advertising. I’m still gutted that he wouldn’t get involved with my “I can’t believe it’s not Bollocks” low-fat spread though.
Naturally, this has got me thinking. Surely there are loads of old bands knocking around out there, a bit skint, contemplating their next move. I mean, it’s ok if you’ve been in Spandau Balllet, Duran Duran or something like that. You can always rock up on the TVAM sofa, do a bit of Cash in the Celebrity Attic, mince about with Ainsley Harriott, do Something for the Weekend, ( Hello Ms.D ), or even a bit of Panto. But, if you’re an aging punk or a hairy, hoary old rocker, what chance have you got? What chance? Loads of chance if you jump aboard the whitewriting brandwagon! That’s right, I’m getting ready to launch a whole raft of Celeb endorsed brands with the potential to earn megabucks and finally kill the memory of my brilliant, but ill fated, mobile golf course venture.
Are you plagued by stubborn, seized-up bolts when attempting a little DIY? Then reach for “Dumpy’s Rusty Nuts WD40″ A can full of rockin’ good penetrating fluid that’ll have you twisting all night. Arthritis playing you up? Then just massage in a healthy dollop of “Stiff Little Fingers Embrocation and Universal Balm”, within minutes you’ll Get a Life and be living on Hope Street!
There are just so many possibilities out there that I can’t believe no-one’s got onto it yet. The rise of recycling alone makes “Ned’s Atomic Dustbin” a potential goldmine. Just think of it. Glow in the dark bin liners in a range of crusty colours to separate your plastics, paper and aluminium, each bin painted up like a traveller’s bus. Genius. Back in the field of health, I’m working on ” Joey Ramone’s Gabba Gabba Hay Fever nasal spray”, ( the inhaler bit’s like a rolled up banknote. Inspired, I know ) , an “Ed Banger and the Nosebleeds” branded Warfarin product and a range of “Dr. Feelgood‘s anti-depressants”.
Peter and the Test Tube Babies and The Angelic Upstarts are tailor made for a couple of Mothercare lines, Napalm Death are a no-brainer for a range of garden pesticides and I’m trying to get Kraftwerk into a deal for “Trans-Europe Express” student railcards and supasaver techno-tickets but I just keep keep getting this strange, tinny recorded message on Ralf Hütter’s ansaphone. Well, I’m assuming it’s his ansaphone.
It’s got to be a winner hasn’t it? I mean, I’ve barely scraped the surface with the handful of candidates I’ve mentioned here and, as a Manchester copywriter, I’ve got big ideas for a multitude of bands and perfectly matched brands that I’m currently negotiating with. So watch this space.
The plans I’ve got for Throbbing Gristle are dynamite.
Category : Uncategorized
The Ad Inspectors.
August 29th, 2010 // 8:06 pm @ andy // No Comments yet
Hello there. I’ve just been watching some telly again, ( unlike me, I know ), and I think I’ve had yet another brilliant idea. I know. As a professional copywriter I’m full of ‘em. This one though is a sure fire, on the nail, take that to the bank, put that in your pipe and smoke it, winner. The plan is this. I’m going to recruit some people off the telly and set them to work as a kind of Advertising Atrocity Flying Squad, ( see how I used those big letters there? They’re called capitals and they make things real ), to tackle problematic ads right in the Ad Agencies where they take hideous, deformed shape. Killing them stone dead before they hit our TV screens, newspapers, mags, radios and poster sites. They’ll be like King Kong in the original film. You know the bit where he fights all those dinosaurs and pterodactyls and things and then kills a great big huge massive tyrannosaurus rex by snapping it’s jaw right in half? Like that.
It’s so simple really when you give it a bit of thought. First up, I’m going to get that Alex Polizzi off of The Hotel Inspector. Have you seen her? She takes no shit from no-one our Alex. At the first sniff of self-indulgent, gold pencil chasing, obscure reference referencing ads being planned, we send Alex straight in. The undertaker’s black, fully alloyed-up, Audi will squeal to a halt at the Agency’s HQ. Alex, immaculately attired and stilletoed to the max, sweeps into reception. ” Ah yes, I think I can see what you’re trying to achieve with this mannequin with a Magimix cocktail pulveriser/bread-maker/ice-cream churn/beet mash whisk where it’s head should be. But do you really think that it’s sending out the right message? I know when I’m throwing a squillion pounds at an ad campaign, what I’d like to see is clean towels and a really good English breakfast. What’s more, while those asymmetric haircuts look smashing in reception and, indeed, throughout The Creative Department, who’s paying for them? Yes, me. The guest/client. And while I’m sure they have their place at a midnight showing of ‘Trash Humpers’ at the Camden Media Boutique and Hummus Bar, do I really want to place my advertising budget in the hands of a person who’d spend £130 in a Shoreditch salon having that done to their own head? And another thing, someone’s going to fall over that skateboard and really hurt themselves.
As the Agency in question reels at the questioning of their reception area and thus it’s entire creative rationale, so begins phase two. This consists of my ” Explain your f****ing selves” panel. This will be a group of business professionals, hand-picked by myself, to undertake a deep and thorough analysis of the creative work to date. At present, I’ve picked a couple off of “Dragons’ Den” to be going on with. Centre Forward will be Duncan Bannatyne. Now I’ve been watching him closely and I see him to be a man of vision, integrity and unrivalled business acumen. What’s more, I reckon he’s hard as nails, and if some Creative Director or Account Exec started shouting the odds, he’d just rip their throat right out. With his teeth. Probably. The other great thing about Duncan is he doesn’t tend to let people get past the first couple of words of any kind of explanation. So there’d be no big, long reasoning to sit through. Just “Let me tell you where I am. I’ve got 88 squillion, trillion pounds. I not only survived but started the ‘Ice Cream Wars’ personally killing many, many men, women and children. I’ve got gyms and houses and breweries and cars and women and everything and you’re crap. Your idea’s crap, your agency’s crap, this desk is crap, your shirt is crap, your hair is crap, that’s a crap watch and I’M OUT.” End of. No squirming. No amends. Just over.
I also want to get that Deborah Meaden in. I haven’t really got a clue what she does or how come she’s a dragon but i do know that she gives me the right creeps. Just sitting there like a really, really pissed off frog or something. Watching, waiting, slowly blinking and imagining what you’d taste like on a bed of fruit flies. Whatever her purpose, I think that if someone was trying to pitch an idea and she was in the corner, saying nothing, quietly observing, they’d just burst into tears and leg it. Well I would.
I haven’t really thought what Peter ( not only am I HUGE, I wear quirky socks ) Jones or Theo ( let me tell you about Mrs P ) Paphitis would contribute but they could sit in a corner talking about cars and helicopters and private jets and watches and stuff while the Account execs alternately salivate and weep at their majesty and power. That’s probably contribution enough, thinking about it.
I’m absolutely convinced it’ll work. Just send in The Advertising Atrocity Flying Squad and watch those half-arsed, irritating, concepts put to death at the moment of inception. Or better still, call for the AAFS midway through a campaign’s run and launch a surprise “Explain your f***ing selves” meeting. By this point, any semblance of a coherent campaign will have been lost amidst a succession of Facebook inspired ‘virals’ and ‘consumer involvement’ exercises.Throw the team responsible in with the Dragons and watch them squirm on Duncan’s spiny rage while Deborah licks her eyelids in anticipation.
And don’t worry. Pete and Theo will drive us all to a lovely hotel afterwards.
Category : Uncategorized
Know your tweets.
August 21st, 2010 // 11:32 am @ andy // No Comments yet
A new glossary of Twitter terms…
1.Twourettes: An inexplicable compulsion to tweet ones every single bloody thought, every bloody minute of every bloody day
2. Twinge: To complain pointlessly and endlessly via Twitter
3. Twinkle: Tweet regarding cockernee seafood snack
4. Twerp: Effect of many Twinkles
5. Twitch: Tweet regarding sorceress
6. Tw@: Highly irritating, self important Twitterer
7. Twaddle: Tweet from perambulatory duck
8. Tweedle: To gain information via manipulation of unwitting Twitterer
9. Twig: Tweet regarding full hairpiece
10. Twiglet: Tweet regarding very small hairpiece
11. Twang: Tweet regarding male member
12. Tweed: Weak, ineffectual Twitterer
13. Tweezer: Twitter equivalent of telephonic heavy breather
Category : Uncategorized
Baby shower.
August 17th, 2010 // 6:35 pm @ andy // 2 Comments
Hello there. Exciting news in the ‘Campaign Daily Bulletin’ this morning. It seems that the latest development in BT’s series of Ads featuring the inexplicably popular couple ’Adam and Jane’, is that Jane is to become pregnant. Yes, it’s true. And what’s more, it’s all down to the great British public. It seems that when, in an earlier ad, it looked like the pair may split up due to Adam’s change of job and consequent move to an impossibly stylish seaside apartment, hordes of Ad fans and idiots formed groups on Facebook demanding a future for their favourite ill advised haircut and vapid beauty.
Never a company to shy away from the mentally infirm, BT asked all those people to vote on what should come next for the telecom twosome and the overwhelming response, ( apart from a weird alien subplot, possibly thought up by some lonely thirtysomething in a bedsit in Stoke ), was ” Get Jane up the duff”. And so it has come to pass.
However, in a shock move, rival telecommunications company T-mobile have claimed that the baby can’t possibly be Adam’s and was in fact conceived during one of their ’5 for a fiver at Blockbuster’ parties hosted by that fat sweaty bloke who dresses up as a robot to entice his, frankly less than attractive, friends over to the squalid flat on the outskirts of town that he calls home. Or ‘My pad’.
A T-mobile spokesman said yesterday, “Yes, it’s true that Jane off of the BT adverts did indeed attend a party at Fat Doug’s place last Tuesday. There, whilst off her face on a mixture of Lambrini, Blue WKD and Benylin, she did the nasty under some coats with Fat Doug’s mate Stumpy Colin and we are convinced that her current condition is the result of that union. What’s more, due to his T-mobile connection, Colin did it for twenty quid and with a ten times quicker connection speed than that lanky BT poof Adam could ever manage. Naturally we invite BT to approach us through the medium of The Jeremy Kyle show or similar scientific institution where the matter can be resolved via DNA tests, lie detectors and some spirited shouting from Stumpy Colin’s ex, Ms. Mercedes Dunstapp.”
Kris Marshall was unavailable for comment at the time of going to press. Thank Christ.
Category : Uncategorized
Blogged down.
August 13th, 2010 // 4:26 pm @ andy // No Comments yet
Hello there. Sorry if you’ve visited the blog in the past few days, only to see the same sorry post just staring vacantly back at you with nothing new to say, nothing exciting to show you. I’ve been a bit busy that’s all. You see, last week I kind of volunteered my services, via linkedin, to do a load of copywriting stuff for a cancer awareness charity in India and it’s become incredibly time-consuming. Yep, that’s the kinda guy I am. Charitable. Then I went to meet a potential client in some big swish offices with the aim of writing a new website for them. However, I had to sign one of those Non Disclosure things so I can’t tell you anything at all about it. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.
So, what can I share with you today to make up for my regrettable absence? Not a lot, advertising -wise I’m afraid. I will show you this film trailer I saw the other day though because I think it looks brilliant.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-wqmnJrOFM
Top that isn’t it? If you’ve ever seen any of those ’70s ‘Blaxploitation’ pics you’ll know that it’s absolutely note perfect. Plus, any film that’s produced in ‘Cinemaphonic Quadravision’ has got to be worth seeing, hasn’t it? I got that from a site called Ultraculture. In my opinion it’s about the best of the crop of movie blogs that have sprung up all over the net of late so have a look. If you like films and smartarse writing, you’ll love it.
Oh, hang on. You know I said I hadn’t really got much to share advertising-wise? Well there is one ad that’s been getting right on my tits lately. It’s the most recent Cornetto one and it really should be in one of those posts I’ve been calling
The Ad Critic: In depth analysis and deconstruction of 21st Century Advertising.
Just have a look at this rascal.
Now isn’t that just unspeakably awful? I just can’t see the reasoning or thought behind any of it. What on earth is the point of those bleeding ventriloqists’ dummies? I mean, yes, it’s supposed to be the inner thoughts and stuff of our frisky, yet socially inept, young couple being expressed by a third party but why such ugly, characterless dummies? They’re just scary aren’t they? Like something out of that Anthony Hopkins movie, ‘Magic’. And what in the name of God is a ‘lean-in’? Is that some well-known phrase or saying that today’s yoof bandy about yet I’ve somehow missed? The ‘You’ve got hair’ bit is unbelievably weak too. It just sounds as if the writer involved has become bored senseless by the whole thing or has been railroaded into an idea that he/she hates and has just thrown down some words to fit the running time before sodding off to the pub and getting mortal. Or is that just me?
Whatever the case, it’s shit.
Another televisual annoyance that’s been troubling me lately are those little ‘ident’ style mini-ads that they’ve started top and tailing ad breaks with of late. You know the ones, 118 118 do it, as do practically all of the gazillion Bingo websites that now proliferate all over the place like a particularly virulent, ( and usually vivid pink ), disease.
Anyway, I was watching ‘American History X’ the other night and, if you’ve ever seen it, you’ll know that it gets pretty deep, thought provoking and even bleak at times. So really, the last thing you want as one of the heavy, black and white, prison scenes fades to an ad break is, DIDDLE EE DEE DEE DEE! DIDDLE IDDLE EEE DEE! DIDDLE EEE DEE DEE DEE! ONE ONE EIGHT!!! to the tune of Ray Parker Junior’s unforgettable ‘Ghostbusters theme’. It just ruins the moment a bit, that’s all I’m saying.
Anyway people, that’s just about all I’ve got for you today. Time and Indian cancer awareness campaigns wait for no man and I have much to do.
Oh, and although I haven’t written the new website yet, there is something you could visit at:-http://www.highwaysbeyondcancer.org/
So how about you have a look? Maybe you could send some money or offer a little help too.
That’d be lovely.
Category : Uncategorized
10 things I’d rather be doing.
August 5th, 2010 // 3:59 pm @ andy // 4 Comments
Hello there. I’m not having a good day today. In fact, I’d go as far as to say I’m having a crap day. Because today is one of those days that, no matter how much you try to avoid it by doing really essential things like rearranging your DVDs, CDs, Vinyl collection, Bookshelves, Magazines and pencils into orders like Alphabetical, Genre, Author, Date, Thickness, Weight, Colour, Age, Shape and Relative hardness, just comes on round like a big relentless relentless thing.
Yes, today I’ve got to sort stuff out. And not interesting stuff like DVDs, CDs, Vinyl, Books, Magazines and Pencils. Stuff like invoices, tax related stuff and general bill type stuff. You know, all that stuffy stuff that just really, really stuffs up your day. So, in yet another attempt to avoid that stuff here I am with a “10 things I’d rather be doing” list.
I should also point out however that I haven’t just hit upon the idea of doing a “10 things” list by chance. I’ve been doing some research and, apparently, putting a number into the heading of a post makes more people want to click on said post and read it. Really. I’m not making it up. I read it on one of those blogs that talks about how to build up the ‘hits’ on your site and apparently numbers are a biggy. People just can’t get enough numbers, they’re mad for ‘em. Plus, my friend John Goddard, another copywriter, does lots of “10 things” lists on his blog and I’ve always rather enjoyed them.
So, here goes. 10 things I’d rather be doing than the stuff I’m doing today ( Other than what I’m doing right this instant of course. Because right at this instant, I’m writing this. And I quite like writing this. Ok? Good. Glad we sorted that out. )
1. Slamming my hand in the sliding door of a 1972 Volkswagen Danbury Camper Van ( And that kills. Honestly. Never do that because it really, really kills )
Actually. Hang on a minute. I’ve just realised that, to make a point, I’m entering into a list of really unpleasant things I’d rather do than invoicing, tax stuff and bills etc. There are loads and loads of nice things I’d rather be doing, obviously, but for now let’s stick with unpleasant things for comedic effect. I might do some nice things afterwards. Let’s see how we both feel. So,
2. Going spraying that Wasps’ Nest Destroyer stuff I got the other day into the wasps’ nest that’s developed in the eaves of my roof. ( And, as you can imagine, I’m a bit nervy about doing that. I got stung by a wasp a bit back and I was sick and everything. )
3. Watching ‘Mama Mia the Musical’, ‘Sex and The City’ or anything that Guy Ritchie has ever done. Even ‘Swept Away’.
4. Attending any kind of School Reunion.
5. Going to a dinner party where the host has been on a trip to Goa or has achieved any form of Spritual Enlightenment.
6. Visiting Wynsor’s World of shoes. Or watching that ad where Melanie Sykes thinks ‘shoes’.
7. Working in that Bakery on the Greggs ad where everyone sings and dances while pumping the grey sludge into ‘meat and potato’ pasties.
8. Attending a Seminar of any description.
9. Having a wart removed.
10. Writing a list of 10 things I’d rather be doing.
So, there you have it. 10 things I’d rather be doing than what I’m doing right now. ( Excluding what I’m doing at this exact instant. We’ve been through that already so just leave it. OK? )
And I’ve given some thought to writing a list of 10 nice things I’d rather be doing but I think all those things would be pretty obvious wouldn’t they?
In fact, how about you come up with 10 nice things you’d rather be doing than whatever you’re doing at the moment? Try to exclude what you’re doing at this exact moment though because you’re reading this at this exact moment and I’d probably be hurt if you came up with ‘sticking needles in my eyes’ or something like that. I’m quite easily hurt you know.
So go mad, let your mind run riot and write your own list. You could even send it to me by clicking the bit where it says ‘comments’ at the top of this post. Maybe there’ll even be a big prize for the list that I consider to contain the 10 absolutely bestest things you’d rather be doing.
I wouldn’t bet on it though.
Category : Uncategorized
The Ad Critic: In depth analysis and deconstruction of 21st Century Advertising.
August 3rd, 2010 // 10:40 am @ andy // No Comments yet
That’s f***ing awful, isn’t it?
Category : Uncategorized
