I tell you what’s rubbish, every frigging tv ad from Iceland featuring Peter Andre. They stink. I know the company’s run by a nitwit who interferes in all the marketing thinking and this campaign has meddling dipstick written all over it. What kind of chump actually thinks multi-millionaire Peter buys 8 burgers for £1 at Iceland? I’m guessing one of the same 1 million people who have apparently signed the petition for Jeremy Clarkson to be re-instated by the BBC after being suspended for punching a production minion on the show for not having his steak ready. Or UKIP voters as we call them these days. And I can give you more examples of utter rubbish ….
I think my natural mood is cranky (as I’m sure my wife would testify) as it hasn’t taken long for me to feel the need to pass critical judgement again.
Well here’s the thing, a dear friend and regular reader of the blog told me recently that as wonderful as my biting wit and ranting criticism are, she’d like me to write something uplifting and complimentary for once. A piece that praises rather than protests. OK M, but Mr Curmudgeonly will be back next week! Continue reading
I tell you what’s bloody odd, that tv advert for power utility company SSE. It features an orang utan (!) going up and down escalators apparently signifying a fresh look at electricity supply. If I was going to ask somebody to cast a fresh pair of eyes over the attributes of the various energy companies I’d definitely pick an orange-coloured primate to do it. No I wouldn’t; it’s a frigging stupid notion. Nor would I use one of the great love songs, When I Fall in Love, by Nat King Cole as the musical soundtrack because absolutely no-one is in love with any of the energy suppliers in the UK, the grasping, expensive bar-stewards. It’s almost like they’re taking the monkey juice. If you think I’m being unkind take a look at let me know I’ve got it wrong…
I’ll tell you another weird ad; that latest one for moneysupermarket.com where there’s a blerk with a bum as big as Kim Kardashian’s, in tight shorts and high heels (and a jacket, nice shirt and tie incongrously) twerking away in front of a woman carrying two dogs and who looks like Sharon Osbourne’s Spitting Image puppet. I suspect it’s poking fun at our sexist attitudes but I actually find it quite difficult to watch. More to the point it wouldn’t encourage me to go and check out the company’s utility/insurance comparison website because, as we now know, it’d make more sense to go and chat with an ape. Confused.com? Check it out…
Finally I can remember back in the very early days of Cellnet (now O2) my great boss BMc managed to convince the then hottest female actress in the world, Joan Collins, to do a tv commercial for us based on the idea that she ‘didn’t do ads’. He taught me to aim high. Almost 30 years later I shouldn’t be surprised to see that celebrity endorsement is still a key advertising plank. And speaking of wooden, what is Kevin Bacon doing promoting mobile network EE? The same thing that Joan was doing all those years ago, earning a pile of money for 30 secs of work. But it’s sad to see an actor as fine as Harvey Keitel reprising his Winston Wolf character from one of my favourite films, Pulp Fiction, for some crappy ads for Direct Line insurance. I guess nothing changes and money still talks eh. But it’s still weird to see him doing the ads with jobbing actors and crummy pay-off lines. He looks like he’s enjoying it as much as if he had anal warts…
Now what’s this headline all about? The results of some naughty spanking session? Grimy lines on your undies? Well as tempting as it is to write about both those things, it’s something entirely different and, I have to admit, a lot less thrilling. But it’s something that regular readers will know drives me mad, the tendency for Marks & Spencer’s to completely make a hash of presenting themselves engagingly in-store.
Well today I went to watch my eldest grandson S play for his academy team against Barnet FC. It was a lovely morning if a bit cool and it was a proper lads get together with his other Grandad BB there and his young brother G and my son-in-law St there too of course. I haven’t been for a while to watch him and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Well my old heart skipped a beat or two today when I learned that Nasa’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter had taken images showing that Beagle 2 had landed safely on Mars some 11 years ago, and had failed to function only because one of the solar-power petals had failed to deploy. Somewhere up there, there’s the soul of Britain’s most famous rocket scientist looking down and smiling today.