If you know to which TV ad my blog title relates, you’re probably already heartily fed up of the bumper crop of Christmas advertising that these days seems to start the minute you’ve shaken the summer holiday sand from your flip flops and goes into overdrive the very second Guy Fawkes hits the bonfire.
Now I’m as fond of Christmas as the next man – I’ve purchased a sweet little potted tree (temporarily installed in the garden), started to stockpile Prosecco, and the cake that was lovingly baked back in October is currently receiving a weekly tot of brandy – but the sheer volume of seasonal ads is enough to turn the jolliest reveller into a tight-fisted Scrooge-alike. And if an advertising aficionado like me is driven to the sherry cupboard in despair, I dread to think what effect it has on the rest of the population.
A selection box of things that are winding me up:
- Perfume ads. Thanks to my son, Gabe, for pointing out that aside from the asinine scripting (I’m not going to be the person I’m expected to be anymore – geez Chanel, all that couture cash and this is the best you can come up with!), it’s also become de rigeur to include a giant scent bottle, usually being tossed around by a starlet on rumpled bedclothes. Why?
- The Asda ad. Women, know your place!
- Ads for booze. Enough already. Obviously, we all appreciate the advertising opportunity afforded the wines and spirits industry by the Christmas and New Year feasting period, but does anyone actually like/want/need Tia Maria?
- The Argos aliens. An idea stretched as thinly as Poundland clingfilm on the turkey leftovers. If aliens going potty over consumer goods seems an odd idea at the best of times, asking us to imagine them engaging in the celebration of a Christian deity is positively whacked.
- M&S. No real complaints about this in essence, but am now sick to the back teeth of the musical medley accompaniment. Thanks, M&S, for putting me right off One of My Kind for the foreseeable future.
On the plus side, the advent of the Christmas ads nicely thins out the usual dross (I’m looking at you, HSBC junior lemonade entrepreneur. When did the golden days of youth become synonymous with early-onset capitalism?) and, because I do tend to be a last minute shopper, the constant barrage of reminders forces me to confront the very real possibility that Christmas Day may arrive before I’m actually ready for it.
What do I think really hits the festive spot? It’s beginning to look a lot like Aldi – sheer genius, on a shoestring, of course.
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