The Commercialisation of Christmas: Tis Shit!
Well, I did promise, didn’t I? Friday’s celebration of the cynically wonderful will now be balanced with five of the most horrifying splatters of televisual puke ever broadcast. Which could be a bit much for my stomach to take, considering my colossal hangover. Oh, fuck it. We’ll give it a go. To the Wallowlands Express!
The Five Worst Christmas Ads Ever.
Coz tis never the season to be a thundering cunt.
Before we start, I think we should accept that potentially great Christmas ads are recognised fast and wheeled out year after year, as is right and true and honest. But bad Christmas ads tend to be swiftly strangled, which is why there are no classic bad ads below. Well, apart from number 5, which is of a theme that repeats like a brown sauce sandwich. Ooh, look! Here it is!
5: Boots’ “Here Come The Girls”
The concept isn’t a bad one. Chirruping office workers go on their Christmas do, do the secret Santa thing, coo at each other, and generally have a Larf. To the tune of Sugababes’ hideous version of Ernie K-Doe’s “Here Come The Girls”. Ah, hark at the sting in the tail! Hark at it over, and over, and over again, year after year after …
4: Bothar’s Christmas Goat.
Jesus. A goat with ADHD. What a pain in the arse. I hope they eat him as soon as he arrives. He’s fuck all use for anything else, what with being male - no milk or cheese from this little cuntbucket. I’m guessing young master goat is supposed to tickle Irish kids into invoking pester power, which is great for the third world and all, unless you throw the telly out the window as soon as the ad comes on, which is counter-productive, Bothar. I WANT TO LIKE YOUR ADS, BOTHAR!
3: Vodafone’s White Christmas.
Bloke wants to do something special for his girlfriend for Christmas. With the awesome power of Communication (helpfully facilitated by the nice peeps at Vodafone and whoever Gilliam’d up Joe Duffy’s head), he manages to put together a real white Christmas for her; she looks out the window to see him standing knee-deep in a snow drift. Isn’t that romantic? Well, it is until he says, “It’s the little things that make my girl smile”. CREATING A WINTER THAT DOES NOT NATURALLY OCCUR IN A TEMPERATE CLIMATE IS NOT A FUCKING LITTLE THING! It’s a very big thing! It’s HUGE! What a demanding bitch! What a suitably gloating toad she’s paired with! What kind of standards are these to be batting about in a recession? These people belong in a Barry’s Tea ad!
2: 3 Mobile’s Paul and Claire.
Paul, on the other hand, wants to get Claire a gift that doesn’t cost the Earth or involve pussyfooting around Joe Duffy. He buys her a poxy little phone. She responds by taking all her clothes off. Who the fuck came up with this concept? The lovechild of Peter Stringfellow and the fucking Grinch?
But even an ad telling us that “gurls r slutz 4 fones, liek” cannot match the pompous scuzz coming up next. Yes, it’s the Meteor Carol-Off. Of course it is.
1: Meteor’s Carol Off.
Look at that face. Is that not a face you want to kiss with a jack-hammer? This tuneless bollocks and his tuneless friends use Meteor’s marvellous network to get together more tuneless cunts because some proper carol singers are trying to save the world from their smug, tuneless tunelessness. Then he, and his intimidating tuneless brethren, wave off the proper carol singers who’ve bothered to learn to sing and to wash their faces, dooming the rest of us to a tuneless, tuneless hell. Is this what Christmas is all about? Well, fat bearded men, yes, but not fat bearded cunts who’ll stand around for hours in the cold, waiting for their horrible posse to arrive, just to prove that they’re louder than a band of harmonious nobodies. God, I hate this ad. It’s even worse than the one with Cheryl Cole lying through her fake teeth about the merits of revitalising, replenishing shampoo when she’s got a full head of extensions sewn into her vapid little bonce. IT’S JUST TERRIBLE.
What do you lot think? Be gentle in your criticism of my criticism; I’m quite unwell, and plan to remain that way for some time. Red wine is an evil, evil thing.
I’d like to recreate a proper Glasgow version of “Here comes the girls” but that’s another story.
I’m currently too outraged by the glossy bollix created by these cheesey fucking out-of-touch advertising companies, of people spending money they don’t have on things they don’t need.
The bars are empty, the shopping centres are empty, and people are at the end of their ropes here in Glesga (quite literally) with the worry and the cost of yet another unemployed christmas in the remnants of the British Empire, which now appears to be controlled entirely by the Royal Bank of Scotland.
Pay the mortgage or buy the kids an iPhone each? Yay… no contest! fuck it, you’ll have an orange and a sing-song like we did as kids, and you’se will be happier for it.
I swear… if I see one more jolly bank employee wearing a fucking santa hat, scoffing those waxy bollix Quality Street taffies, and wishing me oodles of festive joy, I’m gonnae Glesga Kiss the whole rotten lot of them.
Cheryl Cole has hair extensions? For the love of god, my life is finally over!
Merry fecking Christmas.
I do not remember any of them. But the concept behind #5 is much the same as the Barrys tea ad’ where the bint is off to work in Bangkok. Only here, visions of a sloppy gee pounded on the glass of the photocopier. Where the only saving grace, it’s very unlikely that anyone could recognise the owners of the regions involved.
I’m sorry I said that, Jimmy. Of course she doesn’t have hair extensions. Her hair and teeth and everything else about her are entirely authentic. All of the nutrients she so diligently consumes go directly to that bouncy, fabulous do. Cheryl’s hair is real as real can be, because it’s Christmas, and there’s a little touch of magic dust in the air…
But yes. Christmas, this year, will be harsh for most of us, but recognising that won’t benefit the advertising agencies or their clients.
Urgh, here come the girls… yuck. I’m glad my office party is a piss up after work in work clothes, no “fab” outfits, and no ghey presents either. Although I am saving a molotov cocktail this year for my least favourite colleague. Try and drink that, y’bastid!
Mobile phone companies have too much fucking money, perhaps they should be nationalised by the govt. Chavez style…
They should be forced to put clothes on their actresses, is what!
Govstooge, pressies don’t get much gheyer than the crap you can get in Boots. No wonder they have all those 3 for 2 offers. Hmph!
‘Tis the season of smug, self-satisfied bastards.
So true. Why can’t ad agencies create characters we identify with and not want to stab in the kneecaps?
I’ve been most vocal on the subject of that smug, gurning cuntpallet.
‘Lace his balls with nitric acid, fa la la la la, la la, la la…’ and so on.
If I did have a criticism it’d be that you didn’t call the Beardo from the Meteor ad a cunt nearly enough times. I think 8 times would have done it. He truly does have a face one could never tire of punching.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT
THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK?!
Kneecaps?
Surely you mean vocal cords or maybe even eyeballs.
Some festive generousity has crept into you I fear.
Fight it missus.
But I hear kneecaps are very sensitive! Plus, boney. Stabbing some kneecaps implies great effort … that you put thought into it.
You know, I was thinking last night about Meteor Guy, and wondering how it must feel to be the most hated man in Ireland. That poor actor. Even after today’s budget he’ll still be more despised than Brian Lenihan. Isn’t that odd?
KEVINNNNNNNNNNNNN, I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAN!
Hola Sweary!
I am hate the Diet Cola adverts with all those gurning American ladies. Is not normal or healthy and I have to close my eyes while I pull up my trousers.
I am know they are not a Christmas advert. I am just say.
Also the Chocolate knickers one. They are not even close to melting.
Besos
Manuel
Meteor Man. Women love him!Mmmmmm.