Tag: advertising

#oneaday Day 647: Badvertising

There are some truly awful adverts on TV at the moment. The trouble is, I can name pretty much every one of them, meaning that this badvertising is actually proving effective, meaning that there’ll inevitably be more of it. Worse, people actually seem to actively like some of this stupid nonsense, meaning they go viral and enter culture at large.

Let’s take the Confused.com adverts. These have developed a life of their own over the years. Formerly, their crazy-haired mascot was just that — a mascot or, more accurately, a logo. Now, however, she’s jumping around, singing some butchered version of YMCA which has been badly edited so it doesn’t flow properly and, to make it even worse, the animators have actually taken the time to make her boobs jiggle.

The butchering of a popular song seems to be a much-used approach at the moment. DHL do it with their latest, which puts some nonsense about “logistics” (don’t even get me started on that one) in place of “That’s Amoré” or whatever the song is actually called. And there are doubtless others out there.

Then we have hair care and beauty products, which are in a whole world of their own. One commercial at the moment actually promises “even more science”. Others make up lists of “seven signs of aging” or “thirty-eight signs of damaged hair” or “twelve signs your vagina is about to fall out”. For example.

One of the best-worst adverts at the moment is for Müller yogurts. It’s an impressive homage to kids’ TV of the past, featuring characters like Yogi Bear and the Mr Men in some sort of terrifying dystopian future where cartoon characters are possessing humanity, but it has absolutely nothing to do with yogurt. You can guarantee it will have been a subject of discussion at water coolers across the country, but will it sell yogurts? I have no idea.

By far the most infuriating place to watch ads is on YouTube, which appears to carry a library of approximately two ads at any one time and play the same ones every time you want to watch a TV programme, then again halfway through. Thankfully, recently, a bug in the system means that they often cut off early, leading to some interesting edits — the best of which is clearly the Coors advert, which opens with Jean Claude van Damme saying “Hello, I am van Damme. My pants froze,” and often cuts off at just that point.

Advertising serves a purpose, of course. Without it some things wouldn’t get funded. But does it have to be quite so fucking irritating?

#oneaday Day 609: Five a Day

“Healthy eating” is often misinterpreted by many (including myself) to mean “eating things that taste like pieces of wood that you found on the forest floor”. And yet it doesn’t have to be that way, it seems. Sweet treats are all very well and good, but firstly, they get pretty dull after a while (once you’ve had one chocolate bar, there are very few variations on the theme besides what the crunchy bits are made out of/taste of) and secondly, of course, they’ll turn you into the sort of person who requires a crane to get them out of your house.

This is an exaggeration, of course. Unless you eat, like, nothing but chocolate bars all the time, in which case heart disease will probably take you long before any cranes have to be involved.

But anyway. Since starting my EA Sports Active 2 workouts (which I’m still keeping up with, FYI) I’ve been looking a little more carefully at the things I eat each day — largely because of the nagging woman who gently reminds you that you should be eating [x] number of fruit and veg portions per day, and [y] number of glasses of water. As a result of a little investigation and exploration, I’m doing quite well on [x] though [y] often still eludes me, because water is pretty boring.

It seems there’s quite a wide variety of things that actually taste reasonably nice while actually being healthy, too, particularly on the fruity side of things. There’s a snacky thing called “Fruit Flakes”, for example, which is basically a little bag of fruity sweets, only they’re actually made of fruit instead of E-numbers and enough sugar to send a hyperactive five year old to the moon without the aid of a rocket. Today, too, I tried some things called “YoYos” from a company called “Bear” — they’re basically fruit rollups, but all-natural and, bizarrely, made using sweet potato as well as the fruits in question. They don’t look quite as appealing as more sugary variations on the fruit rollup theme — they have the look and texture of fruit jerky — but they taste all right, and apparently each one is one of your Five a Day. I’ve had two today. Check me out.

Crisps are a thing that the reformed glutton often misses, as crisps are tasty. While they’re not quite the same thing, I’ve found Snack-a-Jacks to be a perfectly acceptable substitute. Some people aren’t a fan of rice cakes, believing them to actually be pieces of packing polystyrene rebranded as a lightweight snack, but the addition of a little flavour to the mix with Snack-a-Jacks makes them more than acceptable — and without having to cover them in cheese, jam and any combination thereof, either.

One thing that does irritate me a little about healthy eating, however, is advertising. I’m thinking particularly of the Special K adverts here. Now, as a breakfast cereal, I quite like Special K. It’s moderately tasty, supposedly good for you and doesn’t taste like lumps of chipboard. There’s also about a bajillion different varieties of it nowadays — some with fruit, some with other variations. It should be a cereal for which everyone can find an acceptable variation.

So why, then, is it marketed exclusively towards women? That’s not an exaggeration, either — there hasn’t been a man in a Special K advert for as long as I can remember, and it’s almost constantly marketed as the cereal that will make you look good in a one-piece swimsuit/figure-hugging red dress. I don’t particularly want to wear either of those things, and I have far too much penis to ever be called a woman, but I like Special K. Now, to be perfectly honest, I have absolutely no shame whatsoever in walking into a shop and purchasing a box of Special K, much as I would have absolutely no shame whatsoever in walking into a shop and purchasing sanitary towels for a female friend who needed them. But the fact I even have to make that comparison is at least a little objectionable — is the assumption that men are only interested in eating some sort of protein-packed Meat Flakes for breakfast and sprinkling them with bacon, while the women virtuously crunch on their Special K?

Who knows? Regardless, the main thrust of this self-indulgent ramble is that EA Sports Active 2 has, among other things, succeeded in getting me to be a bit more conscious of what I put in my mouth. This is, I believe, a good thing — and another check mark in favour of a fitness and health programme that I’m having increasing amounts of respect towards. We’ll see how I feel in 9 weeks time when the programme I’m following is supposedly set to finish!

#oneaday Day 536: IdiotBox

TV is rubbish. TV is so rubbish that I generally avoid the act of watching it whenever possible, usually preferring to catch the few things I do actually think are worth watching via video on demand services or purchasing a DVD.

It’s difficult to pin down exactly what the most rubbish thing about TV is, though. Is it the asinine programming, in which the nation still doesn’t seem to have noticed that The X-Factor, Britain’s Got Talent, Over the Rainbow, Shitbag Maria and literally (okay, maybe not literally) tens of thousands of other shows are all actually exactly the same thing? Yes.

Is it the stations’ inability to record more than one promo reel for an upcoming show and then bombard you with the same 15 clips every 5 minutes until the show actually starts and you find yourself actively wanting to avoid it? Yes.

Is it the fact that the BBC1 announcer sounds like he’s extremely uncomfortable when announcing programmed? Yes.

Is it the fact that Dave, despite having about 15 years worth of Top Gear repeats to draw on, insists on playing the same episode at least twice in one day, so that you can watch half of it at lunchtime and randomly turn on the TV around dinnertime to find yourself picking up exactly where you left off? Yes.

Or is it the fact that advertisers treat you like idiots? “We’re real lawyers,” say InjuryLawyers4U (pro-tip: if you have to make your main selling point the fact that your law firm employs “real lawyers”, you’re not exactly filling me with confidence). “I got the money I needed with QuickQuidDotCoDotYouKay,” says a woman with an unconvincing mouth and all the sincerity of a jam sponge. “Special K is only for women with body image issues!” implies a cereal advert. “Only women may shop in Boots!” suggests Boots, having now used the same piece of music for so long that even fans of the Sugababes want to throw things at the TV every time the ads come on. “All men are bellends who only care about sticking their cock in things and drinking, possibly at the same time!” imply 95% of adverts. “If you smell nice, slutty women will fall at your feet and get their baps out!” screams the Lynx advert, thereby condemning the entire country to continually smelling like a gypsy’s jockstrap. YES.

So in short, TV is shite and the few genuinely good things that do get made either get buried in the schedules and forgotten (Firefly) or repeated so often you can watch them with the sound off and do the dialogue yourself without any difficulty (Friends).

Thank God for whoever decided that video on demand might actually be a good idea. Because although you still occasionally get shitty adverts, you can easily avoid all the crap with the added bonus that you don’t have to fit your schedule around an inanimate object — it fits its schedule around you. And that’s the way it should stay.

At least until the machine uprising, of course.

#oneaday, Day 275: Inexplicable Advertising

Advertising copywriters have a largely thankless task in front of them. Responsible for making people want to buy shit that they don’t really want to, it’s their job to come up with new and innovative ways to attract people to various products and inspire them to give them a try, usually by convincing people that they wouldn’t possibly be able to live without said product.

Some advertisers and product designers take an entirely different tack, however, and lapse into the realms of the bizarre. Let’s explore a few, shall we?

Options: Sexy Hot Chocolate

Hot chocolate: sexy. Confused nerd: less sexy.

Think of a nice warm mug of hot chocolate and what is the first thing that comes to mind? Perhaps snuggling under a nice warm blanket, maybe in front of a roaring fire. A large shaggy dog may be draped over the rug in front of said fire. Alternatively, you might be thinking of a camping trip, gathering around the campfire to warm yourselves before. Whatever specific image you have in your head, it’s probably related to night-time, warmth, cosiness and possibly being about to go to bed. For sleeping. Not for naughty reasons.

So, then, let’s take a look at the mint chocolate variety of Options hot chocolate.

“The flirty mint green kitten heels were madness at the garden party,” proudly proclaims the sachet. “Mint” and “madness” are much larger than the others, so you have to look close to read the rest of it.

Which is probably just as well, because it’s complete nonsense. What in the name of the nine Hells has mint green kitten heels (whatever they are) and garden parties got to do with a steaming hot chocolatey beverage? Why is there a woman in a slinky dress on the logo? She’s not even wearing heels!

Options hot chocolate is delicious, by the way, despite all this.

Maoam Stripes Enjoy Back-Door Lovin’

The fact the orange is winking leads me to believe that this is EXACTLY what it looks like.

Maoam are weird fruity chew things that taste like fruit flavour and are very addictive. They also have a weird name that is impossible to type correctly first time every single time it becomes necessary to type them.

Now, perhaps the nature of the sweets dictated the artwork on them—a fusion of fruit flavours, or something—but is it really necessary to have a picture of a lime gleefully bumming an amputee orange on the wrapper? I vote “no”.

These bizarre decisions pale in comparison to what you find in your average commercial break on digital or satellite TV these days, though:

Alexander the Asshole… I mean Meerkat

For those of you outside the UK, this irritating twat that a frankly depressing number of people seem to find utterly hilarious is the product of an advertising campaign for an insurance price comparison website called “Compare the Market”. The “joke” is that “Compare the Meerkat” sounds a bit like “Compare the Market”. If you’re a complete retard who can’t speak properly.

The above video is for his book. Yes, his book. A character dreamed up to sell insurance has a book out. I guess this should be a heartwarming story of a new national comedic treasure. But… oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s a mildly racist advertising campaign with an annoying catchphrase for—let’s not forget this fact—insurance—and the world is going crazy for it. Actually, the world is just going crazy.

Go Compare? Go Away

I don’t think anything else needs to be said, apart from pointing out insurance price comparison websites’ predilection for changing one of the most boring things in existence into one of the most irritating things in existence.

The Credit Idiot

“Hey, boss, shall we hire some actors?”

“Nah, fuck it, hire the guy from the takeaway around the corner. He’s cheap and he’s always wanted to be on TV.”

Seriously? All these ads have convinced me is that I never want to use any of those services, ever. Yet when I do actually need a service like that, the only sites I can think of are these ones because of their incredibly irritating adverts. Which I guess is sort of the point.

Oh well.

And people wonder why I don’t watch much TV.

#oneaday, Day 176: Real-World Spam

A while back, when I was feeling rather more positive and “I can do anything!” I was hoping to support myself through a combination of freelance writing, music teaching and computer tuition. As such, I set up some websites, I took out some adverts with Yell, Thomson and the like and waited for the customers to come rolling in.

No-one did. I got one pupil for some GCSE tuition and a couple of timewasters on the music front, and nothing at all on the computer tuition front.

Actually, that’s not quite true. I have got one thing out it all. MASSES AND MASSES OF FUCKING HARASSMENT FROM TWATS.

I had no idea that advertising one’s services on Yell would lead to such a bombardment of crap from people who obviously haven’t read your advert. Every single day, I get a ton of identical bullshit through my letterbox, all informing me that “recruiting a new salesman is difficult” and that I should clearly defer to their superior judgement. The bizarre thing is that all these “salesman finding specialists”, or whatever the hell they are, seem to have written the exact same letter. And none of them have considered the fact that someone offering “IT tuition” probably doesn’t need a salesman, because he probably isn’t selling anything.

It didn’t stop there, either. The phone calls! Jesus Christ, the phone calls. One woman from Yell phoned me regularly. The first time, I woke up to her phone call on the sofa the morning after my wife and I had split. Not recognising the number, not thinking particularly straight and hoping it might be something job-related, I answered it. I was immediately embroiled in one of those sales pitches that it’s impossible to escape from, or get a word in edgeways. I placated her with a promise that I’d “think about it”. Foolish. I should have just said “no”. Because “I’ll think about it” translated to “Please phone me! A lot!”. Funny thing about a five-year relationship coming to a sudden and unexpected end; you don’t think particularly straight immediately after it has happened. (Or months afterward, as it happens. At least if you’re me.)

Then there was “Nathan”. Nathan represented some local school who was nowhere near my potential “catchment area” for music pupils. He wanted me to pay him £200 for two years’ exposure in the school’s brochure. Said exposure would take the form of a tiny little advert that was, as I say, only visible to a select group of people who were nowhere near me. But Nathan wouldn’t take no for an answer. Nor would he give up after two weeks of me not answering the phone at all. I dialed “1571” to check my messages one day, and there were ten new ones, all from Nathan, all starting in the exact same way. Get the hint.

In some ways, the tenacity of these people is admirable. But it’s also extremely irritating. You can be a good marketer without pissing people off. These people failed miserably.

So the moral of this story is twofold. 1) Don’t advertise anything with “IT” in its title unless you want to be bombarded with mail from pricks who don’t read your ads. 2) Say “no” when you mean “no”.

The Hate List (September 2009)

Hello!

Here’s the official September 2009 edition of Things That Piss Me The Hell Off That I Can’t Do Anything About So Might As Well Ignore Them But Can’t.

Irrational rant and much sarcasm ahead.

In no particular order:

  • People who cough, then gob on the floor.
    If I can cough and then either swallow my own phlegm or spit it into a tissue just to maintain some amount of public decorum, you can too. You’re not a pirate. Or a cowboy. You’re an idiot.
  • Casual lawbreaking.
    “Ah, it doesn’t matter if I speed/park here/drop this litter/break this thing that doesn’t belong to me/steal this thing/let my dog shit there/threaten someone. Everyone else does it.” That’s right. And that’s why driving means you take your life into your own hands, you can never find a parking space (and when you do, it’s blocked by someone who has parked where they shouldn’t), our streets and parks often look more like rubbish dumps, kids whinge that there’s ‘nothing to do’ because it’s all broken or stolen or covered in dogshit, and people are afraid to step up and stop people from doing these things. Everyone hates the idea of a nanny state (myself included) but by doing all these stupid things you just encourage those in charge to put tighter and tighter controls in place in an attempt to stop you behaving like a self-obsessed bellend.
  • Cyclists who don’t understand the Highway Code.
    If you are cycling, you are a road-based vehicle. Granted, a very small one that is mostly person-propelled, but you’re still a vehicle. Don’t swear at me if you come screaming down the pavement and nearly ram into me when there’s a perfectly good road with no people walking down it. Also, red lights mean stop. You massive twat.
  • Car drivers who don’t understand the Highway Code.
    Quick recap: Blue sign with white arrow means “one way”. Red sign with white stripe across middle means “don’t go this way”. Stop muddling the two up.
  • Lorry drivers who overtake on the motorway.
    You have an acceleration of 0-60 in 3 years. The thing you’re trying to overtake also has the same acceleration and there is a difference of 0.01mph between the two of you. Overtaking it will likely take you a very long time and get you into a position where you’re stuck behind another lorry that is going the same speed as the one you just overtook. Why not – here’s a thought – not bother?
  • People who absolutely have to get where they’re going faster than you.
    Subject of the second ever entry on this blog, fact fans. Travelling around London is a sure-fire way to see this. You know the whole point of an escalator is that it’s a moving staircase that you don’t have to walk down, right? So pushing past to get to the bottom two seconds faster than everyone else achieves nothing except annoying the people who are patiently waiting. Also, standing behind someone who has a large suitcase that takes up a large step and tutting isn’t going to make the suitcase magically get small enough for you to get past.
  • Mercedes/BMW/Audi drivers. (Except my Dad, who drives a BMW in the most non-BMW-driver way I’ve ever seen.)
    Those flashing orange lights on the side of your car are not “parking lights”. They do not mean you can park anywhere. Similarly, if you are in a traffic jam, weaving between lanes actually slows everything down rather than allowing you to get anywhere faster. Also, if you come up behind me and flash your headlights when I’m driving at the speed limit in the fast lane, overtaking things in the slow lane, I will slow down just to annoy you.
  • Fat exhaust pipes on shit cars.
    Your car is loud! It sounds like the exhaust is broken! You’d better get that looked at. In the meantime, why not drive like you think you’re in a Mercedes?
  • Using the word “fucking” as punctuation.
    When considering whether it is appropriate to use taboo language in conversation, consider 1) your audience, 2) the context and 3) whether it will help your message to be heard. “Ah went dahn the fahkin’ shops and bought some fahkin’ bread” is an example of the word “fucking” not being used to enhance the sentence in the slightest. “People who do this are fucking idiots” is a good example of using the word “fucking” in one of its primary uses as an intensifier. A “fucking idiot” is more of an idiot than an “idiot”. However, the “fucking shops” are no more or less a shop than the shops. Also, bread.
  • T-shirts with slogans about being drunk.
    Oh! You like to drink! You’re so wacky! “Take me drunk, I’m home!” That’s clever! That’s so clever!
  • T-shirts with slogans about having a large penis.
    If you need to shout about it, it’s probably not worth shouting about.
  • T-shirts with swear words on them.
    I’m not averse to using bad language in a situation where it is appropriate and/or acceptable, but to walk around town where there are often young children and also people who don’t particularly want to see your T-shirt imploring them to “FUCK OFF” present marks you out as being 1) inconsiderate and 2) a massive tool.
  • Men who wear too much aftershave.
    If I can still smell you a minute after you’ve walked past me, that’s too much.
  • Smokers who smoke underneath “No Smoking” signs.
    Ooh, you big rebel. Get you. Now take your stinking cancer-sticks and shove them up your arse where I can’t smell them but you can feel them. Preferably lit.
  • Beauty fascism.
    Eyes age in two ways! (So you must fix them!) Wrinkles appear on your body! (So you must Polyfilla them!) Your teeth are dirty! (So bleach them!) Your skin is pale! (So paint it orange!) Your hair is not quite blonde enough! (So dip it in Domestos until it’s just right!) Your clothes suck! You’re a failure! A FAILURE! WHY DON’T YOU JUST DIE, YOU PATHETIC BAGGY-EYED, PALE-SKINNED FAILY FAILURE FAILINGTON?
  • Confused.com’s advertising. (YouTube)
    Are you really expecting us to believe that people voluntarily sat down in front of a webcam and talked about their experiences buying home and/or car insurance so you could put their gurning Everyman mugs all over our TV screens every five seconds? Because I’ve bought both home insurance and car insurance. Both experiences made me want to kill myself. Maybe I should go on cam and say that. Apparently the emo-looking kid in the purple top (“Phil”) is quite well-known on YouTube. Sell-out.
  • GoCompare’s advertising. (YouTube)
    No-one sits in a coffee shop saying things like “Car insurance, eh? What can you do?” – even floppy-haired douchebags like the ones in the advert. Also, if a singing twat burst in encouraging me to “Go Compare” I’d tell him to “Go Fuck Yourself” and punch him in the neck.
  • Compare the Meerkat. (YouTube)
    Almost funny once. Not funny the five hundredth time. In fact…
  • Insurance advertising.
    Just sod off and stop trying to make one of the most boring things in the world look exciting.
  • McDonalds’ advertising.
    You have a recognisable jingle. Well done. Would it kill you to put it in the same key as the rest of the music in the advert?
  • People who use the word “unfortunately” when they don’t mean it.
    You don’t care that I can’t do that thing I’m trying to do. It’s no skin off your nose. So don’t patronise me by bemoaning my poor fortune.
  • Unnecessary layers of management.
    The most extreme example of this I’ve seen came while I was temping for a loss adjustment company. An insurance company hired a firm of solicitors who hired the loss adjusters who hired some surveyors who hired some building contractors who hired some builders who charged the building contractors who charged the surveyors who charged the loss adjusters who charged the solicitors who hired some cost recovery specialists to recover the costs from the insurance company who hired their own cost recovery specialists to recover the fees from the person whose fault it might have been (but they weren’t sure). Unsurprisingly, the whole case (which was incredibly boring, something to do with a little crack in someone’s living room wall which may or may not have had something to do with a tree outside the window) took several years to resolve, by which time the crack had probably gone all the way up the wall and broken the house.
  • Spar.
    Why is it I can go into Tesco Express, buy lunch, dinner, toilet roll and a few household essentials and spend approximately £10, while I do the same in your rotten little shop and have to spend £20 for inferior products? Also, one of your cashiers needs to buy some deodorant.
  • The X-Factor.
    Simon Cowell was quoted this week (in the Star, admittedly, but I’ll let that pass for the sake of this rant) as saying “The Beatles wouldn’t have won the X-Factor”. Good. That means they actually have a future and won’t ever do a duet with Flo Rida. Speaking of whom…
  • Flo Rida.
    You can rap in triplets. Well done. Now try writing your own songs instead of pinching other peoples’. Which reminds me…
  • Cover versions that aren’t cover versions.
    Sugababes recently covered Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy”. Badly. Pussycat Dolls recently put out a song which wasn’t “I Will Survive” but inexplicably breaks into it completely incongruously halfway through. Flo Rida… ugh, just make him go away. If you’re going to cover a song, show it some respect and/or creativity.
  • Radio 1.
    There are more than ten songs in the world. Some of them aren’t even done by floppy-haired idiots or women with shiny legs. Please play them.
  • There/Their/They’re.
    You learned this in primary school. I can still remember it, so why can’t you?
  • Your/You’re.
    You also learned this in primary school. I still remember it also.
  • Basic punctuation.
    Capital letter at the start of a sentence. Full stop at the end. No need for kisses. “[Anonymous] is pleased today over it really should be better paid for all the hassle going to enjoy a bottle of wine and a good catch up x” is a sentence that makes fairies cry.
  • Apostrophes.
    Apostrophes denote possession, a missing letter or being pretentious. (People know what a “bus” is now. We don’t really need to call it a “‘bus” any more. Same for the phone. Or the ‘phone.) “Flower’s for wedding’s” (seen on a road outside Fareham) is not correct. “Please do not use mobile phones or personal stereo’s in this area” (seen on South West Trains) is not only incorrect, it is inconsistent. “All reasonable offer’s will be considered” is similarly not correct. “Pete’s last entry sure was full of vitriol” is correct. “Fish ‘n’ Chips” is correct.
  • Facebook games.
    No, I don’t want to join your Mafia or adopt your stupid spastic black sheep that “turned up” on your farm. If it turned up on your farm, you take care of the little bastard.
  • Facebook.
    Facebook is full of noise. It’s like trying to be heard while standing in the middle of a ball pit filled with drunken giggling teenagers at the local Happy Eater while a man shouts “MAFIA WARS! FARMVILLE! AAAAAH!” at the top of his voice. (This has now been allayed somewhat with the launch of Facebook Lite, aka We Wish We Were Twitter.) (Additional note: I still like and use Facebook. But it is getting noisy.)

That’s nearly 2,000 words there. I think that’s probably enough for now! If you have any pet peeves of your own you’d like to share, please do make them known in the comments.

If all that depressed you, let Maru cheer you up: