Posts Tagged ‘Crap ads’

Coors Light

July 17, 2008

This is one of those odd ones that I hate/like.

A bit like shaving your balls, it’s not nice to do but I like the way it feels afterwards. Or wanking off looking at pictures of your mum, which is nice at the time but after it you feel a bit… well… suicidal.

The advert starts with the usual humourless twattery; bubbles, filters, clean, cool…beer-guff – the sort of shite they wheel out for people too scared to drink proper ale (which should be dark brown, flat, a little cooler than warm and drunk by men – not baseball hatted tossers with three quarter-length shorts and Billabong t-shirts).

We’ve seen it all before. Swirling effervescent liquid glittering like silver sunflakes in tan gutmud with some Burton-deep narration – rich and manly – eulogising over it. Wonderful, delicious etc… hyperbole in a glass.

But wait. No. Something’s not right. The camera has pulled up through this pond of gassy gall and two young men are in conversation… Wait – the one on the right appears to be the one actually narrating… The one on the right IS the man evangelising about the wonders of Coors.

Jesus.

Now this is fucking annoying. At this stage of proceedings my exasperation dam has broken and a flood of rasping sighs gas into my living space like a farting cow. The tit on the left castigates the ‘narrator’ on the right for ‘doing that’ but by now my tolerance is repaired, something wonderful is about to occur…

I really don’t understand why this has happened; I can’t comprehend why any part of my being seismically shifts as it does. I mentally down tools and like a five-year-old waiting for the steam train to round the mountain, I freeze in anticipation for the narration to continue off-camera. The two protagonists look at each other in silent astonishment, then look behind.

Approaching them, extolling the virtues of the ‘clean crisp taste’ in exactly the same throaty tones as the narrator is a plain looking girl with a rather large mouth. Sweet Christ, no.

SHE’S the narrator, it’s her!! She’s nothing to look at. She’s mousey and a little rotund but something about her, the way she walks and the manner in which she ‘speaks’. The coquettish way she chinks her bottle at the end of her sentence. Dear reader… I FUCKING LOVE HER!

I’m left sitting there in silence, grinning from ear-to-ear like an utter twit, like I’ve just been touched by the hand of Christ. Why has this happened?

Oh beautiful Coors girl, be mine, be mine, you fat frog.

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Ad Nauseam: Dolce and Gabbana

June 10, 2008

Hello. I’m Matthew McConaughey, you might remember me from lots of movies… or you might not… very few people actually went to see my movies, although I’m quite famous for once being arrested for smoking a joint and playing the bongos naked in my living room. Oh, I’ve dated a few people who you might have heard of – maybe that’s how you’d recognised me. Trust me, I’m famous and thus desirable to women and admirable to men. I am, I swear…

Anyway. I want you to buy this new… um… is it aftershave? I’m not quite sure, it doesn’t say what it is in the advert – but either way, I want to you to buy it and I believe in this… um… product so much that I’m prepared to put my name to it. Yes, it’s that damned good. You trust me, don’t you? I said I was famous, you must trust me.

The advert is all about my life – the constant hassle of being incredibly famous, the admiration heaped upon me for said fame, the stream of photographers always wanting to get a snap of me because I’m so famous and admired… and if you had this life, which you don’t, you’d be able to deal with it as effortlessly as me by using this product… this aftershave, I’m sure it’s aftershave I’m selling.

You see, when a company asks someone really famous and admired to be the face of their product it’s because they see an association with the star’s persona, they see a mutual affiliation in style and ethos. When Dolce and Gabbana asked me to be their face I was flattered because it meant they clearly saw me as the height of sophistication, and not as a has-been no-talent who no-one ever really cared about. It meant they didn’t see me as just a ‘person who was in some films no-one saw’ and more as an emblem of their international image.

After all, to sell an international product (I am, like, 99% sure that it’s an aftershave) you need an international celebrity – and who’s more world famous than Matthew Motherfucking McConaughey? I know that it looks like that my film career is in freefall and I have to do adverts just to remind people that I exist, but that’s not the case at all; I have loads of films coming out and some of them star people you like. I’ll be around for a long time yet, so don’t worry.

Thank you for listening, I’m Matthew McConaughey.

P.S. It’s definitely aftershave, I checked the website – although there was this moment when I realised it could also be suits or sunglasses – that was a scare.

SEE ALSO:

Pierce ‘I used to be James Bond, y’know’ Brosnan

cheestrings

April 29, 2008

The cocky little fucker walking about the school with his hand filled with ‘cheestring’. The angry teacher wishing to know more about this child’s cheesy comestible…

’What’s that?’ the angry teacher fumes, pointing at the yellow bendy lump of gittery in the infants callous hand. Both he and the boy look down ‘pon the item in question.

‘Well…’ says the boy, an expression of assured knowingness, before we’re hit with a baffling five scene montage. Sped up footage of green, green grass growing out of the soil under an azure blue sky. A cow’s gob munching on said grass, milk spunking into a bucket. A factory with huge cubes of cheese passing on a conveyor, then suddenly a packet of cheestrings materialises.

Sorry? What was the bit between the cow’s milk and these massive lumps of symmetrical cheese and now this miniscule bundle of cheesy hair? Some devilry has taken place – alchemy – and the first three aspects of the montage are supposed to justify the last? I beg to differ.

Like the witch employing subterfuge in order to carry out maleficia, nature has been exchanged for a packet of… well. What? What the fuck is it? It would seem that it is made from ‘100% cheese’ but something had been done to it make its texture akin to muscle sinew. Something unholy, something evil…

The advertisers are trying to present cheese as healthy and natural. Whilst delicious cheese is a processed and unhealthy foodstuff, it’s a lump of fucking fat. In this form it has been reprocessed into something you could stick a wick in and set fire to.

After being blasted in the face with this ludicrous short we return to the cheeky young cunt in front of the scowling teacher.

‘Cheese’ the little bastard says, like he’s just got one over on the ‘The Man’, like he’s stuck it to ‘The Man’ by eating some fucking cheese and he saunters off looking all smug and suchlike.

Since when has any act of teenage rebellion involved cheese? Waving a knife about, trespassing and killing a dog are all bona fide run-of-the-mill acts of rebellious expression in the young. I accept that. But eating fucked-up cheese in the corridor at break time?

I have every sympathy for the teacher. Way before he’d a chance to get a word in I’d have run up soundlessly to the little tyke, landed a flying kick to his neck and, when down, pounded the living shit out of him before saying ‘what’s that? what’s that?’ ad infinatum, referring to the bit of yellow protruding out of his broken fingers. The advert would end with a cow being slaughtered by naked Viet Cong and topped off with a single shot of a man’s hat.

Let’s face it; it has more of bearing on reality than the fuck presented by these, erm, fucks.

Next week, The Renault Clio, an external sign of inner paedophilia.