The Ad Inspectors.

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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