Advertorial Paucity? It Must Be January.
January - such a grim and grey month of post-Christmas frugality. We have only ourselves to blame, I suppose. We go out and spend wildly, drink wildly and eat immoderately at the behest of the vile gods of the high street, and then spend January regretting it and eating beans on toast.
And don't the advertisers - the ulcerated cherubim of the aforementioned gods - just fucking know it? And what do they do to regulate and feed our misery? They make all adverts shit.
Let's take as an example two posters that I pass on my way to work. (An aside here: Whilst I'm on my way to work, or in fact even before darkness falls and I can permissably drink again, I can become consumed with hatred by own shadow, but don't be concenred that this reasonable misanthropy has clouded my judgement). The first is for Halifax Credit Cards (and again, don't let my previous disfunctional relationship with the Halifax concern you), the second (I think) for Telewest Broadband.
Firstly, the Halifax. 'Your Happy New Year Card!' shouts a glittering banner in a Broadway style, whilst a cunt-ugly lady with a side parting holds up a credit card. '15.9%' shouts the poster. 'Transfer your balances!' it probably says elsewhere, along with the usual financial small print confessing that if they were honest, the Halifax basically see you as corpse they'd quite like to rape. It sounds like standard fare, so what's my problem then, eh? I'll tell you. It's her.
I'm sure you're aware that for the past too many years, the Halifax have exacerbated the indignity of being a member of their staff by making the plainer-looking ones appear in their adverts. There's Howard - he's black, but he wears glasses, so he's 'nice-black'. And then there was some dumpy blond girl who was made to dance around in a way that didn't compliment her figure. (I imagine they were going for the 'buxom' look, but what they got was like watching a dugong being rolled down a hill). In the current poster, we have Mary, who, when it comes to looking ordinary, takes the stale digestive.
I'm sure in real life, she's not especially unattractive. However, 'not especially' isn't good enough for the Halifax. So they've moved her side parting to just above her ear, swapped her hairspray for Crisp'n'Dry, and photographed her from an angle that must have been provided by a supercomputer specially designed to calculate unflatteringness. Combine this with the 'je ne sais quoi' repulsiveness of the Halifax uniform and we have an image that is as sexless and dispiriting as an old people's home.
Poster number two: A simplified drawing of a woman escaping from the prison inside her computer monitor by sawing through the bars with a hacksaw. 'Freeeeedom', the banner proclaims. Problem? The stylization of the illustration. It's SHIT. It looks like it's aiming to be retro and kitsch, and thus appeal to those women who have broadband but are concerned about download limits ('She's ABC1, 25-45, gym membership, small car, cat, works in management - basically, she's a do-er. She's in charge of her life, but she's not invulnerable.' 'Yah, sounds great. Kinda Bridget Jones with a networking card. Take it to the client and touch base this p.m.'). Thing is, it's FUCKING SHIT. It looks like it's been drawn by someone who spent the past 20 years in a coma, but has recently been shaken roughly awake, sat down in front of Adobe Illustrator and told to get on with it. It's just so wrong in every way. It's not clever. It's not funny. It's not cute. It's not anything.
And this is what we get for overspending at Christmas. Styleless, functional, 'B&Q' advertising. No arresting imagery, no stirring creativity, no promise of a better life, no luxury, no drama, no nothing. Just two weeks ago Moet & Chandon were advertising at bus stops; now we get debt consolidation and dull design. These corporations - they really know how to do it so it hurts, don't they?
Well I say fuck 'em. Let's make January the month of cheap excess! Let's get pissed for cheap all weekend! Special Brew before we go out, cheap bar, more Spesh when we get home. Then more beer for breakfast! Coke? Not this month, but I'll have a chug of speed if you've got some. Pack of fags? No, rollies, son.
I'm claiming January back for the kids. No more paucity, no more contrition for excessive consumption - we're off to the pub, and we're staying there ALL WEEKEND.
And don't the advertisers - the ulcerated cherubim of the aforementioned gods - just fucking know it? And what do they do to regulate and feed our misery? They make all adverts shit.
Let's take as an example two posters that I pass on my way to work. (An aside here: Whilst I'm on my way to work, or in fact even before darkness falls and I can permissably drink again, I can become consumed with hatred by own shadow, but don't be concenred that this reasonable misanthropy has clouded my judgement). The first is for Halifax Credit Cards (and again, don't let my previous disfunctional relationship with the Halifax concern you), the second (I think) for Telewest Broadband.
Firstly, the Halifax. 'Your Happy New Year Card!' shouts a glittering banner in a Broadway style, whilst a cunt-ugly lady with a side parting holds up a credit card. '15.9%' shouts the poster. 'Transfer your balances!' it probably says elsewhere, along with the usual financial small print confessing that if they were honest, the Halifax basically see you as corpse they'd quite like to rape. It sounds like standard fare, so what's my problem then, eh? I'll tell you. It's her.
I'm sure you're aware that for the past too many years, the Halifax have exacerbated the indignity of being a member of their staff by making the plainer-looking ones appear in their adverts. There's Howard - he's black, but he wears glasses, so he's 'nice-black'. And then there was some dumpy blond girl who was made to dance around in a way that didn't compliment her figure. (I imagine they were going for the 'buxom' look, but what they got was like watching a dugong being rolled down a hill). In the current poster, we have Mary, who, when it comes to looking ordinary, takes the stale digestive.
I'm sure in real life, she's not especially unattractive. However, 'not especially' isn't good enough for the Halifax. So they've moved her side parting to just above her ear, swapped her hairspray for Crisp'n'Dry, and photographed her from an angle that must have been provided by a supercomputer specially designed to calculate unflatteringness. Combine this with the 'je ne sais quoi' repulsiveness of the Halifax uniform and we have an image that is as sexless and dispiriting as an old people's home.
Poster number two: A simplified drawing of a woman escaping from the prison inside her computer monitor by sawing through the bars with a hacksaw. 'Freeeeedom', the banner proclaims. Problem? The stylization of the illustration. It's SHIT. It looks like it's aiming to be retro and kitsch, and thus appeal to those women who have broadband but are concerned about download limits ('She's ABC1, 25-45, gym membership, small car, cat, works in management - basically, she's a do-er. She's in charge of her life, but she's not invulnerable.' 'Yah, sounds great. Kinda Bridget Jones with a networking card. Take it to the client and touch base this p.m.'). Thing is, it's FUCKING SHIT. It looks like it's been drawn by someone who spent the past 20 years in a coma, but has recently been shaken roughly awake, sat down in front of Adobe Illustrator and told to get on with it. It's just so wrong in every way. It's not clever. It's not funny. It's not cute. It's not anything.
And this is what we get for overspending at Christmas. Styleless, functional, 'B&Q' advertising. No arresting imagery, no stirring creativity, no promise of a better life, no luxury, no drama, no nothing. Just two weeks ago Moet & Chandon were advertising at bus stops; now we get debt consolidation and dull design. These corporations - they really know how to do it so it hurts, don't they?
Well I say fuck 'em. Let's make January the month of cheap excess! Let's get pissed for cheap all weekend! Special Brew before we go out, cheap bar, more Spesh when we get home. Then more beer for breakfast! Coke? Not this month, but I'll have a chug of speed if you've got some. Pack of fags? No, rollies, son.
I'm claiming January back for the kids. No more paucity, no more contrition for excessive consumption - we're off to the pub, and we're staying there ALL WEEKEND.
posted by Stephen Beckett at 3:57 AM
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