Marketing
I see it's seventies music week. Paul Weller's making a few quid out of the English Tourism chaps for letting them troll out "English Rose" for an ad once more. Hmmm, Happy Harry won't be too pleased with that. He was the somewhat dry brickwork instructor at Burwell in '88 who made us young trainee roadworkers fast forward through it on our mess room ghetto blaster, as it was his son's favourite track - his son had been killed the year before. The source of my brief flirtation with punk, that summer was, as well as my taste for The Jam and some solo Weller. My gawd, even Plastic Bertrand is gettin in on the act with Ça plane pour moi, in some add or other, and the early eighties are sneaking in there with Trio's Da Da Da. Now, that song was naff but I hate to say I liked it at the time and I still do, it's got a certain minimalistic cool to it.
And that Magners ad.... "we could tell you it's all about craft, heritage and tradition but we know you'll only notice one thing....". Yeah. It's cheap, tastes like wee and enables you to provoke fights outside pubs on a Saturday night. The stuff's evil.
It's time for a little of the Holy Bill ....
"By the way, if anyone here is in advertising or marketing, kill yourself. Just a little thought. I'm just trying to plant seeds. Maybe one day, they'll take root. I don't know. You try. You do what you can. Kill yourself. Seriously, though. If you are, do. No, really. There's no rationalisation for what you do, and you are Satan's little helpers, okay? Kill yourself. Seriously. You are the ruiner of all things good, seriously. No, this is not a joke, if you're going: "There's going to be a joke coming." There's no fucking joke coming. You are Satan's spawn, filling the world with bile and garbage. You are fucked, and you are fucking us. Kill yourself, it's the only way to save your fucking soul. Kill yourself. Planting seeds. I know all the marketing people are going: "He's doing a joke." There's no joke here whatsoever. Suck a tail-pipe, fucking hang yourself, borrow a gun from a Yank friend – I don't care how you do it. Rid the world of your evil fucking machinations".
Phew, didn't much sit on the fence, did he.
And that Magners ad.... "we could tell you it's all about craft, heritage and tradition but we know you'll only notice one thing....". Yeah. It's cheap, tastes like wee and enables you to provoke fights outside pubs on a Saturday night. The stuff's evil.
It's time for a little of the Holy Bill ....
"By the way, if anyone here is in advertising or marketing, kill yourself. Just a little thought. I'm just trying to plant seeds. Maybe one day, they'll take root. I don't know. You try. You do what you can. Kill yourself. Seriously, though. If you are, do. No, really. There's no rationalisation for what you do, and you are Satan's little helpers, okay? Kill yourself. Seriously. You are the ruiner of all things good, seriously. No, this is not a joke, if you're going: "There's going to be a joke coming." There's no fucking joke coming. You are Satan's spawn, filling the world with bile and garbage. You are fucked, and you are fucking us. Kill yourself, it's the only way to save your fucking soul. Kill yourself. Planting seeds. I know all the marketing people are going: "He's doing a joke." There's no joke here whatsoever. Suck a tail-pipe, fucking hang yourself, borrow a gun from a Yank friend – I don't care how you do it. Rid the world of your evil fucking machinations".
Phew, didn't much sit on the fence, did he.
posted by Fred the Singing Bandit at 11:03 pm
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