Your One-Stop Wanker Shop

25 07 2010

So often, adverts do all of the hard work for me meaning that I can just sit back and have a little sob into my cup of tea. What am I crying about, you might be asking? Well, you’ve now seen the advert so if you’re still wondering what it takes to drive an advertising blogger to the edge of tears then you should probably go and have a little lie down and leave the reading of this article for the sensible kids, okay?

It often goes ignored when a company makes a total hash of their advertising campaigns by utterly misjudging the needs or desires of their customers. You’ve seen it before with advertisers using kids to advertise to adults and Strongbow rejecting the mere idea that women drink their products in favour of a nice big, blokey advert.

Although this one is something new to me. I’ve been sitting trying to rack my brains trying to work out what the hell the thinking behind this particular Zyklon B shower of an advert was. The premise, of course, is not lost on me. Catchy song and dance number jams the product in the very sub-conscious of the customer and they find themselves humming it while walking down the street (presumably a contributing factor to the alarmingly high suicide rate in the UK).

Of course, quite what possessed Toolstation to pick the hokey-cokey song, a song which, no matter what you read seems to have had something to do with Canadians and has been a staple of children’s parties ever since the mid-20th century to form the main thrust of their advertising campaign will doubtless go along with the Tutankhamun Curse as one of the great mysteries of our time.

Tim had real trouble with the concept of the Hokey Cokey

Not only the choice of the song but the tone with this jaunty, chummy, cockney-knees-up style of singing which would make Kate Nash cringe in her cardigan that makes you want to find the strength to tear your television in half so that you need never see a gaggle of over-enthusiastic dancers/singers getting all fizzy in the knickers over the Tradesman’s equivalent of Argos. Herein lies the real issue, clearly no-one did any market research and asked any tradesmen what they’d like a company that sells parts to them to represent.

By making this advert as bright and simplistic as possible, they’re insulting the intelligence of the people who will be using their service. Using Toolstation is like a party game. It should be fun for the simple little idiots who want to get their little tools for their little jobs and their little lives. This advert jauntily invokes an image of Tradesmen (not women, clearly) as mockney, blokey types who are liable to burst into a choreographed song and dance routine when the sheer excitement of being able to get tools from stock washes over them and causes them to black out from the ecstasy of the whole experience. Are these people simple? I doubt it but I wouldn’t be surprised if Toolstation’s advertising people are.

You see, if I was a tradesman as opposed to some know-it-all wanker with a superiority complex I’d be saying “this song-and-dance number is all very well but I wonder if they would be able to get me… X, Y and/or Z.” because they say there’s “always nothing they’re without” which, aside from being clumsy songwriting is more than likely utter bullshit.

“It’s no wonder we’re so popular!” Yes. It is a wonder you’re so popular with your irritating, patronising and horrendously badly written and thought-out advert which makes Hollyoaks look like The Wire. Given the choice between two companies, based solely on advertising, surely you’d go for the far more to-the-point, erudite and punchy advert from their rivals Screwfix Direct?

I know I would, even if I don’t understand the importance of having an 18 watt drill. By choosing to portray its staff and customers as Britannia High wannabe tosspots, this advert makes the entire name of the business seem strangely apt. Toolstation. Say no more.

Shop with us. We're all wankers.





Kidsploitation

21 07 2010

There’s a lot of advertising aimed at kids these days. You may remember it from your childhood or if you are a child well… you… probably shouldn’t be reading this. There’s sweary words. Well, not yet but there will be. Bitchtits. See? I warned you! Now go to bed. Anyway, yes. You’ll probably remember a lot of this over-zealous advertising but if you don’t, here’s a Family Guy reminder.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before some cynical bastards (ie advertising executives) got hold of some little tykes for an advert aimed at adults. Naturally, this has happened before but never on a level which is quite this sickeningly awful. As usual with Fadvertising, it all looks fairly innocuous but let’s take a look at what the Morrison’s Kids advert is really trying to say.

Let’s start with the bloody Balamory bus that they ride in on. I know it’s not even close to being the focus of the shot, presumably left out in favour of Nick Hancock’s Sunday dinner clucking in the foreground but it’s clearly a nice little country school. Apparently a nice country school with three kids at it. This is David Cameron’s Big Society prophesised by a major grocer. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Oh wait! Hang on! There’s millions of them! There’s bound to be more than would actually fit on that little bus. Unless these children are part of the farming community. In that sense, I mean that they’re about to be taken out to slaughter and sold at the deli counter of a local supermarket.

Your friendly local butcher; selling kids to kids!

That’s a pretty disturbing image but I’m quite sure that there’s literally no other explanation other than that children are being killed and sold as veal. Joke. Honestly. Put the phone down. The lawyers don’t care. Of course, on their little trip down t’farm the kids get to meet the jolly ol’ farmer and… some fud from Morrisons? What’s he doing there? Where’s the teacher?! Have these children really been allowed to be taken on a school trip by the official representative of a major supermarket?

This is what I find really objectionable about this ad. Sure, it’s not as awful as seeing Richard “The Hamster” Hammond pushing a trolley across the English countryside when he could just as easily have picked one up OUTSIDE THE SHOP but it does prey on a different part of the psyche. Nostalgia.

We all remember primary school trips to museums, farms, whatever random attraction happened to be in or near your town but I really don’t remember there being a Sales Assistant from a supermarket there to interpret the words of my father like a cross between Joseph and Freud. I shudder to think what that would look like. So your precious childhood memories are now being warped into something which Morrisons are using to say “HEY! HEY, ADULTS! WE USE BRITISH THINGS! NO VARIANT CJD HERE! HONEST!”

Forgotten your childhood yet?!

Trust me when I tell you that this will open the floodgates and soon children will be being ‘educated’ by FTSE 250 companies instead of by schools. Their educational programming will have a magic floating pen with a light on which is incapable of spelling anything other than “Waitrose”.  The end is nigh, my friends. The supermarkets will be buying you soon. Hide the children! Hide them!





The Conglomerate

18 07 2010

Sometimes a wave of anticipation washes over you, cleansing you with the pure, innocent joy of a child excitedly awaiting the arrival of Santa Claus. You know what I mean. The wanton excitement of seeing something for the very first time, experiencing something that you couldn’t even have believed possible just moments before. This is how the world should always be, always exciting, always challenging, always pushing you to believe that if you really work at it, anything is possible.

That’s nothing to do with the contents of today’s blog, you understand. Just thought you could maybe do with a pick-me-up before the inevitable grind of a Monday gets its filthy talons into your soul and rend at the mythical ectopl… sorry.

Perhaps it’s just me being, well, me but I found this advert to be extremely childish:

You see, my dear friends. No matter what you may think, regardless of how much over the odds you pay- every single Toyota in the world belongs to Jarno, Justin, Bridie (who unfortunately doesn’t look like a pastry-snack and therefore all jokes are void), Kazuhiro, Emilie, Mike and Carly. In all honesty, most Toyota owners probably didn’t know this but as usual this is an issue of people not reading the small-print.

In actual fact, all Toyotas are actually owned by this small conglomerate of Toyota employees due to an administrative error first discovered in 1994. I think it’s time people knew. Toyota owners! Stand up and unite against the conglomerate. From the smug bastard in a Prius to the equally smug bastard in a Rav 4, undoing all of smug bastard #1′s good work for the environment I urge you to take them down.

The fight begins here. I won’t be joining you though, I drive a Ford. Have fun though.





WOW! THAT’S A… Disturbed Human Being!

13 07 2010

Sometimes I get sent things after I beg on Twitter and I’m delighted to say that ‘Our Man In Havana’ Dan Verg came up with this advert which enforces American stereotypes and also forces you to question the competency of the staff of said shop. I’ve decided that due to the fact they have branches in the UK and the fact that I’m a fucking maverick.

Americans are loud. Americans are brash. Americans walk into shops and are so surprised by the fact that a product is competitively priced that they SHOUT ACROSS THE WHOLE SHOP TO GET THEIR POINT ACROSS! That’s why we all love Americans, right? Essentially they’re better than watching that little bald twat on daytime television pointing out a good deal.

WOW. THAT'S A SHINY HEAD!

I’ll admit that most of this advert was just an excuse to let me shoehorn in a picture of Dominic Littlewood so that I could have a little paragraph talking about what he’d do if he went into Staples would be to try and negotiate a discount by dazzling the bemused staff member unlucky enough to have to deal with him using a combination of the sheen on his head and that ‘cheeky chappy’ mockney accent that he puts on to badger a five percent discount out of people. My rage, as a retail worker, is that Littlewood doesn’t actually do any good. He gets discount because producers and researchers agree it in advance and then the bleating, idiotic public who try it on us are left disappointed by the fact that we could take or leave their custom. Sad fact. The man’s a twat.

Still, back to the issue at hand, eh? This poor-man’s Andy Dick (and when I say poor-man’s Andy Dick you know that that’s an impoverished human being) is delighted at the low, low prices on show at Staples. He can buy things for money. The thing that worries me about the staff is that instead of being genuinely concerned for this man’s mental wellbeing (as they should be), they take it upon themselves to try and sell half the stock of the shop to him. I’m sorry, folks but this guy has some serious mental problems and probably a fucking poor credit rating. I doubt he can even afford all of that stuff.

And then who’s the loser in the end? The staff. The ones who have to put it all back. There’s a lesson here for people who work in shops. If you see a customer shouting at the stock as if they expect it to answer back in a cute, Disney voice then just smile and move along. Maybe even knock the basket out of their hands. Don’t get them a trolley. Idiots.





You’re Only Smoking It! [Guest Fad by Teddy]

9 07 2010
Hello Guys, Michael has kindly invited me to contribute a guest Fadvertising post so here goes…
Rather than risk overlapping with any of Michael’s fantastic work in archiving the worst examples of contemporary ads, I’ve decided to delve into my youth. (By which I don’t mean that I’m fisting an abductee in my cellar) Back in the late 90s this was a genuine example of a Scottish public health campaign:
Unusually for someone included in the demographics ‘Scottish’, ‘prone to mood swings’, and ‘comedian’…I’ve never been into drugs. Just not for me. My behaviour when drinking to excess has always led to enough hungover soul-searching without me feeling the need to upgrade. If I ever was going to end up on drugs though, then heroin’s the one that could certainly be ruled out.
Or so I’d have thought until I was around 19 and this advert invaded Scottish screens. For starters, what was the main thing that repelled me from the notion of ever dabbling with heroin? Needles. What could seem less natural, and conjure up more associations with hospitals and mortality than a needle in the arm? Now note the early words of this advert: “You’re only smoking it.”
Until this advert came out I NEVER KNEW YOU COULD ‘JUST’ SMOKE HEROIN!
Already, they’d knocked me down from a 100% certainty of never trying heroin to a wavering 99.5%. Still, this advert was being put out by the Health Education Board For Scotland. So as long as I followed what they said I’d be safe, wouldn’t I?
Well, other worries that HEBS were expressing about young people’s health around this time were that they were:
Overweight: Hang on, don’t heroin addicts always look really skinny? Oh fuck, I’m down to 97%.
Spent too much time playing on consoles: But if I end up as a smackhead I’ll have to sell my console, right? Like in the advert? 90%.
Didn’t spend enough time outdoors: Where is he at the end of the advert? He’s outside begging for change! He’s losing weight, he’s not spending all his time on a console, and he’s out in the fresh air!
Anyway, if you’ll all excuse me, I have to go and suck a stranger’s cock in an alleyway for my next fix. I tell you what, however much I swallow, that weight just keeps coming off..




Hidden Green Screen [Mini Fad]

5 07 2010

There’s a chocolate theme developing here…

I recently noticed something odd when I was watching television (because I’ve moved house and I now actually get television). It seems that advertisers have now resorted to just editing old adverts as the recession bites the budget of the big companies. Yes, I mentioned the recession. Aside from sheer laziness, I can’t really think of another reason for it.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OM3oh0pCGtE]

This isn’t the version of the advert with the edit, unfortunately. I think it’s been so trivial that no-one (except me) has bothered to mention it. Right… you see. IT’S THE SAME ADVERT as the one embedded here, which was originally from 2008 but it would seem that they’re so lazy that they’d rather use CGI to insert a different line of chocolate into the advert.

It beggars belief. What you’re seeing her eat in the new one isn’t chocolate, it’s an edited square of pixels and you’re falling for it?! What’s wrong with you people?! Galaxy, if you think you’re product’s worth advertising then at least show the actual product in your adverts. Pricks.





What the Flake?!

2 07 2010

Only the crumbliest, flakiest chocolate tastes like chocolate’s never tasted before are the immortal words oft’ used to advertise Cadbury’s Flake. It told you what it was. It was a new taste experience in chocolate because of the way that it was constructed. It would flake (hence the name) and melt quicker when you put it in your mouth. Cadburys said ‘let there be melty chocolate’ and there was melty chocolate; and it was good.

Of course, now everything that Cadbury does has to either be a ‘watercooler moment’ in which people with nothing better to do discuss how hilarious it is to watch some airport vehicles drive around while Queen plays in the background or a nonsensical, pretentious bag of manure with less personality than a hessian sack full of clones of Adrian Chiles. This advert, in case you haven’t guessed, is the latter.

Somewhat cleverly they’ve moved away from overtly telling you that the product is a taste sensation into implying it using imagery and a piano. The road they’ve gone down moves towards perfume advertising where the advertisers are never going to say “it smells a bit like an alcoholic apple” but would rather make you buy it by pushing an aspiration and a desire on you instead which is basically what you want, I mean why would you want to have any idea what something’s like before you buy it? Where’s the mystery in that?

Well... it uhh... sort of tastes like a golden jellyfish...

So in this one they’ve gone for what resembles a cross between deepsea coral and a net curtain hung in a windowless house in Orkney to subtly suggest the way that Flake melts in your mouth. Of course, if the woman in this dress is wearing that while eating a Flake which is, by definition, a bit flaky she’s going to have a monumental dry cleaning bill. Not to mention the fact that you’d probably have to unstitch the purple smoke machine which is inside it to even have it dry cleaned. Headache!

I suppose the fact is that Cadburys have taken a theme of their Flake advertising (the girl) and taken a massive, pretense-ridden, Chris Martin style dump on said theme before setting it on fire and leaving it in the doorway of the Bourneville factory for traumatised workers to find the next morning. Now that is the power of advertising.





Just Emptying the Dishwasher, You Bitch.

30 06 2010

Hello, beautiful, devoted and slightly sexually depraved readers of Fadvertising. This is just a helpful note to tell you that you can now catch my second Fadvertising column at online culture hub The 405 here or just click on the picture below!

"Just Emptying the Dishwasher, You Bitch."





People’s Postcode Twattery

21 06 2010

According to completely made-up statistics, you are more likely to be struck by a yacht being driven by ex-Argentina international Diego Simeone than you are to win the National Lottery in Great Britain. Of course, people still play it and spend a significant amount of their hard-earned cash on a somethingty-million-to-one chance of winning some cash. Naturally, the world and its uncle wants in on this action and here in Scotland, we have been graced with this:

Yes, it’s the all-singing, all-dancing, all-bright and all-garish People’s Postcode Lottery in which people win fabulous prizes based on their postcodes… or something. Who cares, really? Probably the lecherous old men who drool over the ‘stunning’ new presenter Jean Johansson, whose claim to fame is being a weathergirl on STV and also as a former CBBC presenter. Apparently. She’s also married to Hibs striker Jonaton Johansson. She’s exactly the kind of A-List Scottish talent that People’s Postcode Lottery need to rival the glittering array of stars on show in the National Lottery…

Dale's Supermarket Creep

Yes, with names like Nick Knowles, Jenni Falconer and the king of Creosote himself, Dale Winton it’s no surprise that the Postcode Lottery crew have turned to the most famous woman in Scotland to join daytime TV irritant Angus Purden on the presenting team. This is before we even touch on her ability to cheer up an unhappy nation with massive computer-generated numbers.

I adore it when adverts try to endear you to them by showing how happy a world with their product can be. Look at this setting! A beautiful group of thrown-up houses with a real* postbox hanging around. Look! There’s a guy walking his dog! What a beautiful time to live in Scotland. But wait! Just in case you were concerned that this idyllic setting can’t go on forever, there’s a song and dance number coming right up!

Jean (who is also a fantastic singer, apparently) is strutting up the cul-de-sac with two deranged nursery nurses pulling shapes behind her. As is so often the case in suburbia, outsiders and loud music lead to compulsive dancing (in the street) as opposed to the twitching net curtains and panicked phone calls to the police warning of intruders from ‘the estate’ which suburbia is so often wrongly accused of.

They're watching out for Jean

What they cleverly do in this advert is show normal people like you and me. There’s a young man with headphones (probably listening to some of that ‘easy listening’ music that’s supposedly so popular in this terrifying version of Britain), the builder from The Village People and two happy pensioners who are supposedly from Aberdeen. Add those to the representations of people who do exercise you’ve got one beautifully stereotypical group to have a wee jig with Jean.

It’s a lovely, inoffensive ad designed to make people feel good about their chances of winning. However, it makes me feel like going to that cul-de-sac with a sack full of letters to them from the real people of Britain. The people who are despairing over their futures and the people who have no desire to dance in the street whether they win a lottery or not. The people who wouldn’t get involved because they don’t even know their neighbours. This is the 21st Century. The only thing people want to dance on is your grave.

* No it’s not.





Not So Virginal Trains

14 06 2010

Hello, all! I’m back from an enforced hiatus. Enforced due to the utter and complete incompetence of our ISP. I would urge you never to use their service but in keeping with the sort of “Russian Roulette” feel of Fadvertising, I’m not going to tell you who they are or what they did/didn’t do.

I’ve got a confession to make. The first time I saw this advert, I liked it. I shared a glance with my girlfriend and we both let out long, romanticised sighs which would have made even the fictional Cupid vomit candy hearts. I suppose what you should realise before you begin throwing broken bottles at your computer screen is that up until a few weeks ago my better half and I lived that life. Travelling halfway across the country just to get a look at each other’s good parts. Thankfully we no longer have to do that but it did give us a little heartwarming moment when we watched it.

Then I watched it again.

And again.

And again.

And then it hit me.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Sex sells. You may have noticed it in adverts where women writhe around men who smell of the musty vomit-inducing Lynx deodorant, or perhaps you’re familiar with “Southern guy from Lost” in the Cool Water advert. I’m reliably informed that he’s not only cool, he’s sexy too. However, in this advert we have the girl next door (put it back in your pants, boys. I don’t mean it like that) going to visit her boyfriend by catching a train. Nothing overtly sexual about that, is there?

That is until you note the little animated tongue on the text message.

Yes, this fucker.

Not much in it, surely? A little tongue. A little flicking tongue. I’m not going to talk to you about the birds and the bees here, kids. That’s your mother’s job but there is something called foreplay which is subtly being alluded to here. There’s a bit of a creamy head on that coffee too but it’s possible that I’m reading too much into this. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of foreplay, of course. Unless you’re in a rush or a poor lover but again, I’m not here to judge your ability to love your partner. If you want to be judged and shamed then I suggest you try Perez Hilton or some other notorious ‘bitch-blogger’.

It strikes me more every time I watch it, that there’s so much innuendo in this advert which isn’t immediately obvious unless you’re looking for it. A lot of it is cleverly disguised as glitz and glamour and the implication that she feels like a princess when she’s on her way to see her man. Take the bottle of water which turns into a popping champagne cork. So much glamour! Or is it a brave and empowering vision of ejaculation? Of course it is.

That's how Becky likes it.

Just in case you’re wondering I’m going to gloss over the [literal] village people and the knowing look between Becky and her fairy fuck-mother/steward because I think it’s funny enough without me ruining it for you. Also the dancing band of harpies which are displaying their inability to both sing and dance at Snog-on-Sofa station (I checked, it’s about as real as Shagging-Against-Wall) as I don’t really think they deserve my attention. No, let’s look instead at something which made my jaw drop.

The Tunnel of Love is a traditionally romantic thing to do although I’m fairly certain that no-one really does it anymore because it’s a bit pathetic. However this is not a tunnel of love and if you think it is then, my dear, you are far too innocent for this blog and I suggest that you put on CBeebies and watch In The Night Garden until you grow up a bit. For those of you who think you’re grown up enough, take a look at this picture:

Yours probably doesn't look like this.

It’s a screencap of the video and is it just me or does that sign say ‘Shagborough’? 777 yards might be a bit ambitious but you can’t argue with the stamina that would be involved. There’s something to be said for Virgin’s balls here too. I’m quite impressed they even put that in but I think we all realised that this train was a massive penis by now anyway, right?

She’s arrived after a moment of turning from girl next door into a Super Slag and then back again. She’s met her lovely boyfriend too and has whispered something dirty in his ear making him look like a man who’s just been pulled from the ocean and resuscitated. I can only assume her fairy fuckmother wrote it down for her, after all, Becky’s just a nice, innocent girl, right?

The TV version of the advert claims that this is their fastest ever weekend service. This just adds to the innuendo. Given how likely she is to just jump this guy in a public toilet I reckon he’ll be her fastest ever weekend service (badum-tss). All in all, it’s not a bad advert and its use of sexual imagery is really very clever but I just want you to bear in mind that using Virgin Trains will not get you laid. Unfortunately you’ll have to use your sparkling wit and personality to get your end away.

He’ll be her fastest ever weekend service