The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]


Social Media Reveals How Stupid You Are By Showing How Stupid You Think People Are …

Now I appreciate I am a social media whore and have posted all sorts of rubbish in the past, but even I would never do something like this …

I honestly don’t know who is the bigger idiot …

Nescafe for thinking this is a good idea.

The agency for coming up with this idea.

The couple – who occupy that unique space of un-influential, influencers – who decided to commemorate their engagement by selling their souls for a few quid and appearing in a social media post for an international coffee brand while pretending [1] it’s totally natural to commemorate your engagement by appearing in a social media post for an international coffee brand and [2] it’s totally believable to have a staged photo of you in bed, despite the fact there was a photographer in the room with you..

Some other questions are:

+ Why are they not looking at each other?

+ Why is he so, so, so brown?

+ Judging by how tensed up his arms are, just how heavy is that cup of coffee?

+ Why is he cradling his cock?

Seriously, this might be the most z-grade version of Hello magazine that ever lived.

Everyone involved in this – and I mean everyone – needs a bloody big smack in the head.

Advertisements


When Marketing Goes Mad …

I found this photo in my old files.

It’s about 12+ years old.

But based on what the sticker says, it shouldn’t matter should it?

Except it does, because it’s bollocks, especially where technology is concerned even though Moore’s Law is coming to an end.

While I appreciate the World moves so fast that many people just want to have something that they can rely on forever, any brand that promises lifelong relevance is either utterly delusional or a bigger conman than Bernie Madoff.

When will brands learn great marketing isn’t about fabrication but authenticity,



Devil In The Details …

I appreciate me – and this blog – being back, constitutes the worst Monday ever, but deal with it.

Hong Kong was as it always is … busy, noisy, energetic, proud, flamboyant.

Fuck I miss Asia.

Well, I miss lots about Asia, but one of the things I don’t is the bullshit bank advertising.

Where every company tries to convey how prestigious they are and – as a byproduct – how aspirational their customers are, even though what they show is the sort of tacky success you tend to see in a z-grade reality show contestants house.

Case in point this stuff from UOB Bank.

Introducing Singapore’s first diamond embellished, metal card.

No, seriously.

What a load of bollocks.

But what does ‘diamond embellished’ even mean?

Is it that minute square in the card … to the right of the chip?

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha, I think it is, because nothing says success like having a credit card with some cheap ass specks of diamond that even Ratners jewelers would turn their noses up at.

But it gets better …

By ‘better’, I obviously mean worse.

Because not only have they launched a credit card for the most insanely idiotic and egotistical customer on the planet – or at least Singapore – they’ve shown their true tacky colours by making one of the worst copy mistakes I’ve seen in ages to accompany the cards launch.

“For those who value exclusivity in its most extinguished form”.

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Dickheads.

I love it, because nothing says class and sophistication like a lack of basic language skills.

Now while I’d love to extinguish the people who came up with this card and who want this card, I think leaving things exactly as they are is a much better solution … because not only does it make the people at the bank look the sad, shallow, idiotic wankers they are, it also ensures anyone who pulls this card out looks the sort of pathetic, egotistical, insecure and unsophisticated asshole they truly are.

That’s what I call a WIN:WIN in my book.

I will always love and miss Asia with all my heart, but I will always hate the lazy, contrived, aspirational bullshit that the marketing departments of so many companies continue to peddle.



Money Doesn’t Buy You Class …

For all the shit I get about my fashion, music and gadget tastes, at least it comes from a place of actually liking and valuing the stuff.

The reason I say this is that a while back, I wrote a bunch of posts about vulgar displays of wealth.

I talked about a Merc that had been covered in diamonds.

And a gated community that wouldn’t let anyone – even family members – enter without a prior appointment.

And a TV that cost over US$130,000.

In all cases, it says more about the ego/stupidity of the creator than any positive influence they so desperately seek from those around them.

[That’s why from an ad perspective, I still think the Bentley approach beat the ‘classic’ David Ogilvy Rolls Royce approach, despite the ridiculously good headline]

But as much as we know there’s far worse than the things I highlighted above, I recently was sent a picture of possibly the most vulgar display or wealth – and taste – I’ve ever seen.

Even worse than the choices of the entire Kardashian family put together.

This …

Yes, it’s a Lamborghini.

With a huge, unsubtle Supreme sticker on the door.

Topped off with – in what is an act of genius or a mental health issue – a Peppa Pig head.

WHAT?

WHY?

Isn’t the Lamborghini enough?

Has owning a supercar become so mainstream that you have to put the logo of a skateboard brand on it to make it look cool?

Even if that is the case – and Supreme are an amazing case study for both the new rules of luxury and fan management [as covered in our America In The Raw book/presentation] – what the hell does Peppa Pig add?

Is it because it shows you have so much money you literally don’t give a shit what people think about you?

Is it because it lets you show you have so much cash you can piss on the sort of thing most people could only dream of owning by covering it in the sort of thing they don’t want to own.

Or is it because Peppa Pig is the biggest diva of all of them?

Whatever the reason, the owner deserves either the gold medal for money madness or a chair in the face … though to be honest, given they make me almost look financially responsible, maybe I should be shaking them by the hand,



World Cup Advertising Plane Crashes …

I thought it had been well documented that any ad agency commandeering a song to try and show how ‘fun’ they are was a recipe for disaster.

Well, it seems that lesson has only been partially learnt, because while this sonic shitshow is not being performed by – or on behalf – of an agency, an agency was behind its creation and the end result is the sort of disaster that is more likely to cause hooliganism than fandom.

Seriously Qatar Airways, what the fuck were you thinking?

I know airline advertising is notoriously bad [except my old Virgin Atlantic stuff, of course] and World Cup spots tend to not be too far behind [except NIKE, though for some reason they’ve decided not to do anything yet which is either going to be a masterstroke of surprise* or a New Coke moment] but this piece of awfulness reaches a low that even Donald Trump at his most ambitious would be hard pressed to pull off.

Cliched.

Contrived.

Vacuous.

Lazy.

Devoid of any idea, energy or – for that matter – strategy.

Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls.

Please welcome an ad that was made to ruin your Monday …

* Please be a masterstroke of surprise. You are always the ones who define the World Cup.

Talking of NIKE and World Cup ads, maybe someone should tell the agency behind Iceland Air’s World Cup spot, that while people say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, the reality is imitation is the laziest form of flattery.

Look, I know Write The Future was 8 years ago, but there’s this thing called the internet that means people can easily see and compare the work and while your production values are good – certainly compared to that Qatar disgrace – it’s still a blatant bloody ripoff that does you [and your agency] more harm than good.



Half Way Mark …

How the hell is it June already?

It literally seems like two minutes ago that I was making that epic Christmas ‘Baywatch’ special with my best mate Paul.

You don’t know what I’m talking about?

Weird, as it was a Youtube phenomenon, with an amazing 38 views as of the time of writing.

Oh well, here we are … 6 months into 2018, how has it been for you so far?

I’ll tell you how it’s been for me after I’ve seen how many presents I receive from you on my birthday – which happens in just 12 days time.

Subtle aren’t I?

And yes, this may well be the worst post I’ve ever written.

Well, I could say that if I hadn’t included the ‘career car crash’ film in the post. With it, I think it’s fair to say it absolutely is the worst post I’ve ever written, and that is saying something, especially when I compare it against the iPod singing, Scorpions disaster.

[Which was all your fault Marcus]

Anyway, after all that horror, I wish you a good weekend and if it has deeply disturbed you, remember if I’ve been able to have a semi-decent career with this alarming lack of judgment, you’re going to be just fine.



Am I An Annoying Prick Of A Colleague?

OK, so we all know the answer to the question in this post.

But despite hiding hundreds of stickers around my old office … making packing tape with my colleagues face on it … creating badge/buttons with the face of another colleague on them … sending annoying all staff emails … giving annoying art to designers … proudly buying and displaying horrific art for my team to witness every time they step into my office … buying Useless Boxes for people … continually taking bad instagrams of my workmates … crafting terrible ‘personalized’ clothing for leaving presents and basically being a class-1 dick to all and sundry, I’m still not sure.

Or should I say I wasn’t sure until I had a stamp of my signature made so I could stamp colleagues birthday cards to show that personal touch without much effort, as demonstrated by Leigh’s errrrrm, forehead.

So if you think Monday is horrible, be grateful it isn’t being spent in the same office as me.

Always a silver lining.