American advertising. To paraphrase a line from an American movie,
it’s not in the same league. It’s not even the same sport. So why do I
find myself sitting through an increasing number of American ads, all
seemingly devised to appeal to someone with the IQ of a mollusc?
To add insult to injury, half of them are badly dubbed with English
Do they really believe this is enough to convince me I’m not watching
some piece of tat intended for someone with a higher level of patriotic
self-delusion and cholesterol than myself?
I assume the thinking behind such folly runs thus - ’Hey, it works in
America and li’l ol’ England speaks the same language (with that funny
kinda cute accent) so it’s bound to work there.’
Well, here’s my side of the story.
I don’t want to mountain bike over a cliff edge. I don’t want to have an
orgasm about my hair color (sic). I don’t want to be remembered like
Alexander Graham Bell.
I don’t believe that some old bloke playing the blues means my beer will
taste better and I don’t want the best a man can get.
Have you ever met a man who runs marathons, rescues cats from trees,
punches the air and always has a chipaway wink and smirkaway smile for
everyone? If such a bloke walked into my local boozer he’d get filled in
before he’d raised a perfectly manicured finger to order his ’club
In A Fish Called Wanda, Kevin Kline berates John Cleese about us English
believing we’re so superior. Well, we’re not, we’re just different. We
don’t think that a few swift halves at lunchtime are a sure sign of
We don’t believe that wearing jeans which look like two laundry bags
strapped together is ’cool, dude’.
So I offer our American friends this ultimatum: keep your damn ads to
yourselves. Otherwise, remember the time we brought you Benny Hill?
Well, we’ve got plenty more where that came from - and some of it is
You have been warned. Have a nice day now.