Message to oneself

There have been lots of tv ads which have capitalised on the covid crisis to position companies as the most caring of brands. You’ve seen them – that Co-op one with Marcus Rashford aimed at driving donations to food redistribution charity FareShare is a classic. It’s not his woodenness that jars so much as the creative thinking behind the need to create empathy with the viewer. The charitable purpose is absolutely fantastic but that over-familiarity bit where the bloke goes ‘You’re on mute Rashy’ makes me squirm. Check it out…

But I think it’s the banks’/financial services’ advertising which has driven me most to distraction. With the downturn in the economy they must see their precious profits disappearing fast so all of a sudden they are presenting themselves as your best friend. Hey need a business loan to get you through these dark days? Then call us now. Need some mortgage relief hey we understand, get in touch.  It’s so touching because let’s be frank the banks have a story of reaching out when times are tricky to ease our financial pain don’t they?

One series of ads seems to make me frown the most. I’m genuinely not sure if they are inspired or utterly toe curling. It’s the series from the Nationwide Building Society where people (and it is mostly women) either talk in rhyme about their covid situation or send a message to themselves  6 months hence. The contemporary poetry stuff can be rather good. But it’s the latter ads which make me cringe a bit. They have an air of authenticity but can you imagine anyone seriously doing something like this…

I think I’m struggling because it seems like the most unlikely thing a bloke would do and be serious about it.  Do you know what I mean? I feel like I’m straying into Men are from Mars; women are …. territory. So before being accused of being the worst type of misogynist (bearing mind how long it took me to live down the accusations of homophobia) I thought I’d try and write my own message to myself for reading in 6 month’s time. Just to show I do have a feminine side.

Hey you

How you doing fat boy? Still writing that blog? Don’t you think people might be getting a bit fed up with the Gospel according to Pasta Paulie  by now?

Hope you did managed to escape the virus and didn’t catch it from that old lady in Horton hospital. I wonder how she is now. How are Carol and the family – all ok I pray. I also hope you and Carol did manage to get out to New York to see Sarah and those beautiful boys.

So presumably that public enquiry into the Government’s handling of the pandemic, following the very sad news that more than 50,000 people had died as a result of covid, found that Matt Hancock seriously misled the public with wildly exaggerated claims over PPE supplies, testing stats and track and trace capability. I wonder if he’s enjoying his new role as Junior Minister for Parks and Recreation. And the resignation and return to political commentary/editorship by Boris Johnson mustn’t have come as a huge shock. So how is life under new Prime Minister Michael Gove – hideous?  Not so shocking perhaps will be seeing Dominic Cummings in his new role as Piers Morgan’s replacement on Good Morning Britain

And speaking of politicians of great stature, presumably Barack Obama must be delighted to see his old friend Joe Biden replace that fuckwit Trump in the White House. That election slogan of his ‘I won’t suggest you drink bleach’ clearly must have played out well with the American public. Trump’s surprising new role as a contestant on I’m a Celebrity Get me Out of Here must have seemed like a great coup for ITV, though his insistence on having burgers and fries flown in to the camp for his private consumption, a personal 3 hole golf course and refusing to do any bushtucker trials because they are fake ‘chews’ probably isn’t going down well with his campmates. Having a team of hairdressers and tanning specialists in the camp must seem like an unusual concession too.  But if he can’t handle fake ‘hues’ then I guess it was necessary. Let’s hope he doesn’t get bitten by anything lethal.

You must be delighted to see sport return to something like normal. The news that Man United qualified for the Champions League at the expense of Chelsea following the summer transfer captures of Sancho, De Ligt, Grealish and Haarland and having said arrivederci to Paul Pogba at long last, must have delighted you and all Reds fans. Somehow the Red Devils managed to hang on to Phil Jones on an extended contract of £200,000 per week until 2027. Every silver lining….eh. And how sad were you to see Leeds lose the Championship play-off final with Patrick Bamforth missing the crucial kick in the penalty shoot out? And thus just missing out on that expected return to the Premiership which seemed so likely before the lockdown? Ho ho ho.

I hope all your extended family and friends stayed safe and well too of course. Give everyone a big hug even if it’s still a virtual one or just an elbow bump still. But wouldn’t it be nice to think you are now able to properly cuddle your daughters and grandsons at long last. That would be the greatest returning norm.



2 thoughts on “Message to oneself

  1. i was with you until your Man Utd nonsense
    …loved the ‘fake hues’.
    The old lady in Horton hospital is clearly bothering you still – go get a test mate (and not to hospital)
    I will happily jump on the “Keep Nasty Leeds out of the Prem” bandwagon with you
    cheers mate

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