Sold out.

September 6th, 2010 // 4:17 pm @ // 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.

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The Ad Inspectors.

August 29th, 2010 // 8:06 pm @ // 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.

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Know your tweets.

August 21st, 2010 // 11:32 am @ // 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

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Baby shower.

August 17th, 2010 // 6:35 pm @ // 2 Comments

” I was in ‘My Family’ you know.”        ” Yes. And you were shit in that too.”

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.

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Blogged down.

August 13th, 2010 // 4:26 pm @ // 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.

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:-

So how about you have a look?  Maybe you could send some money or offer a little help too.

That’d be lovely.

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10 things I’d rather be doing.

August 5th, 2010 // 3:59 pm @ // 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.

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The Ad Critic: In depth analysis and deconstruction of 21st Century Advertising.

August 3rd, 2010 // 10:40 am @ // No Comments yet

That’s f***ing awful, isn’t it?

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Warm leatherette.

July 30th, 2010 // 12:23 pm @ // No Comments yet

Hello there. Guess what? Yes, that’s right. Today, as a Manchester copywriter, I find myself deeply troubled by a commercial on the telly. This time it’s the latest CSL sofa spot. I know, I know, why pick on one sofa company when sofa ads, as an entity, appear to be universally godawful? It’s simple really. Where most of the sofa barns focus solely on the latest in a seemingly endless cycle of sales, with unbeatable, unrepeatable, never to be seen again till next week easy credit offers, CSL has gone all ‘slice of life, passage of time, reality tv’ on us. In this mini docu-drama we follow Mr. and Mrs. Unbearable and young Master Unbearable from the early joys  and high hopes of sofa ownership to the cruel realities and shattered dreams of long-term soft furnishing commitment.

Here, have look.

Heart breaking isn’t it? Well, no actually. Maybe it would be if all the people involved weren’t so utterly repellent. Mr. and Mrs. Unbearable just look like the kind of people you  couldn’t spend more than 10 minutes with without wanting to punch one, or both, squarely in the face. He looks like one of those gits who got into beet mash futures at exactly the right moment, where she just looks like one of those girls you used to see at school discos who would, inevitably, go on to marry a man who got into beet mash futures at exactly the right moment. The child, sadly, will consequently never have any real friends and will doubtlessly descend into a spiral of drug dependency and self-harm. The divorce certainly won’t help.

What the ad fails to point out though, is that the root of all of The Unbearables’ problems and fundamental cause of the breakdown of their seemingly happy family unit was the purchase of a white leatherette sofa from CSL. Surely someone could have seen it coming? Isn’t there anyone at CSL who could have pulled them aside at point of purchase to quietly explain the folly of purchasing a white leatherette sofa at what is,after all, a very delicate stage in their realationship? Oh sure, in the first flush of young romance we’ve all dreamt of a future swathed in white leatherette. We’ve pictured ourselves sipping perfectly chilled dry martinis, exchanging our dreams and laughing gaily at ‘Animals do the funniest things’ showing on our 50″ plasma screen while the pebble effect living flame gas fire flickers in its chrome framed loveliness. But what happens when that first child comes along? Have you tried keeping white leatherette spotless while changing the nappy of your first-born or spoonfeeding mashed rusk? Well if you have, you’ll know exactly where I’m coming from.

And it’s not just the kid. Imagine the scene, Mr.Unbearable has just returned from a demanding round of golf and networking. He grabs a bottle of room temperature Twuttleton’s Old Vernacular, flips off the cap and reclines on the CSL luxury seating unit to ponder the day’s events. In a flash, Mrs.U bursts in, ordering him to get his disgusting golfwear off the leatherette, just watch where he’s dribbling with that beer and why can’t he use a glass for god’s sake. He responds with bitter recriminations about the obvious Max Factor blemishes all over the cushions and shimmering cleavage enhancer smeared across the armrests since her bloody sister and all her bloody friends came over to watch bloody Mama Mia that Tuesday night when he was in Geneva on ‘beet mash business’.

And from there, it’s all downhill. Master U has got biro down the deep buttoning, that Tandoori Prawn Masala will never come out and Mr. U’s caused a burn with a Hamlet slim panatella. Again. Divorce is the only answer. He’s off with the new bird, ( who he met while in Geneva on ‘beet mash business’ ), she gets custody of the sofa and Master U’s bitter fate is sealed.

All I’m waiting for now is the next ad in the series.

The one where Mrs.U turns up at the new bird’s house and goes crazy apeshit mental with an assault rifle.  Those stains will never, ever shampoo away.

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in t’ Drum.

July 24th, 2010 // 7:17 pm @ // No Comments yet

Hello there. Yesterday I was rather thrilled to receive the latest issue of The Drum. I know it’s not really that exciting as a rule but this particular issue is big, big news in the White household. The reason being, of course that this issue has the ‘Recommended Freelancers Guide’ inside and I’m in it. Oh yes, it’s true. There I am, a recommended freelancer, shoulder to shoulder with some people that you’ve even heard of. And my photo’s in there and everything.

In fact I actually had to get a photo taken specifically for that purpose, as the only picture I had of myself was taken by me, holding a camera I bought from a car boot sale at arm’s length and blindly snapping away until I had a shot with my face in and not just my ear and the book case behind me. ( I did get some great shots of my books though so if I ever want to put them on ebay, I’m quids in. ). Anyway, the deeply wonderful and hugely talented Tim Sinclair took some proper ad man type photos for me. My only regret being that I wasn’t standing on a Fire Escape or something. Those Fire Escape photos always looked great in Campaign didn’t they?

Still, in the shots I’m standing against a brick wall and I’ve got a black top on so I look like a proper Manchester copywriter. A bit designy, a bit creative, a bit edgy and not all that startled so it’s a result, all in all.

I do have one small complaint for the people at The Drum though. Before the guide went to print, they sent me a set of questions about freelancing and I answered them all, clearly, concisely and with a great deal of thought. Yet they’ve only printed 2 of my replies. So, for the record and to share my wisdom with you, I’ve decided to reproduce them in full, here on the blog. Read and learn.

There. All sound advice for any freelance copywriter out to make his/her/whatever fortune in the crazy world we call advertising.

If there’s anything else you’d like to know, please don’t hesitate to ask.

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Please advertise responsibly.

July 19th, 2010 // 1:34 pm @ // No Comments yet

Hello there. Over the past couple of days I’ve been thinking about drinking a lot. Hang on, let’s try that again. Over the past couple of days, I’ve been thinking about drinking. A lot. Or more specifically, drinking in advertising. And by that I don’t mean the grand tradition of loads of advertising people going getting pissed, having a ‘brainstorming’ session, creating the World’s best ad ever, going home, sobering up, feeling deeply ashamed of said ‘World’s best ad ever’ and starting again.

I mean advertising alcoholic drinks and how that fits into today’s brave new world.  You see, we’ve all got to be very responsible these days and, as we all know, alcohol isn’t there for getting drunk with. It’s all about socialising with similarly responsible types, hitting the wine bar and having sophisticated fun. ( Unless of course it’s WKD. Then it’s all about being a dick. )

The ad that actually set me thinking about the whole subject is the latest Schweppes TV spot.

‘Hold on’, I hear you say, ‘that’s not an alcoholic drink, that’s a mixer at best.’ Well yes, good point but keep your voice down a bit, I can’t really hear you, obviously. Anyway, take a look at the ad and it will all become clear.

See what I mean? It’s nice that isn’t it? But it doesn’t really work unless we assume that there’s already a copious amount of gin in that glass before the tonic glugs in. Come on. How often has a swig of anything other than extremely strong alcohol persuaded you that a palpably ridiculous idea is , in fact, a top plan?

For my money it’s lifted from ‘The Fast Show”s drunken family. And none the worse for that.

From here on in though, things turn a bit strange. There are loads of ads out there doing their best to attach some kind of glamour, mystique or out and out ‘quirk’ to a drinks brand without ever really talking about drinking, getting drunk and the good times, bad times, legal actions, unplanned pregnancies, unexplained injuries or happy ever afters that can follow. It’s all about applying an image, a feeling and an ‘ooh yeah, that’s me, that is!’ to a brand.

Of course some ads get it spectacularly wrong, ( Which, by the way is purely my own opinion as a Manchester copywriter so if I happen to hate some ads that you love, then I’m deeply sorrry. You’re entitled to your view, you’re just wrong, that’s all. ), one I’ve previously gone on about at length is the Smirnoff ‘Party in The Forest’ ad.

I won’t mention it again. Click here if you want to read my thoughts on it.

Another is this bloody Pimms ad.

Yes, I get it. All those people represent the individual elements that go into making the classic jug of Pimms. But would you really want to be present at any event where that bunch of unutterable tossers suddenly rocked up? ‘Mint’ is wearing a pair of shorts that a man of his years really shouldn’t, ‘Orange’ is obviously a woman with a very dubious past plus an addiction to surgery and prescription medication,  ‘Le’, ‘Mon’ and ‘Ade’ are fresh from a date with Dirk Diggler and ‘Cucumber’ walks like Max Wall for Christ’s sake. In fact, every one of them looks like they’ve had to sign a register of some kind before re-entering the community. How, exactly, that is meant to sell a bottle of Pimms No.1 is frankly beyond me.

I must be missing something though, the ad’s made by Mother, THE agency of the moment. Obviously I know nothing and I’ll never work in advertising again. Even as a Manchester copywriter.

I could go on and on, in fact I already have,but  there are countless other ads out there which demonstrate the point further. There’s that Brothers cider thing in which a bunch of blokes hilariously misunderstand a young lady’s desire for ‘5 Brothers’ oh, sod it, here it is.

Now that really is grim isn’t it? It’s like those WKD things but worse. And that’s quite an achievement.

In fact, having watched that again, I think that WKD campaign is beginning to grow on me. See what I mean though? Every drinks brand, now that we can’t talk about getting drunk, has to have a ‘personality’ that we can buy into.

The problem is, finding a personality that isn’t completely repellent.

And, judging by what we’ve seen up to now, that’s going to require some very serious, clear minded and considered thought.

So, go on. Get ’em in.

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"I was just saying how good it was to work with someone who I knew would nail it. Thanks, Andy"

Steve Byrne, MD, The Gate Films

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