Advertising: What Went Wrong?

When I was 13 I assumed that by the time I hit 30 the world would mostly work a bit like Blade Runner –  robots making me dinner and beating me at chess, noodle stalls on every corner run by wizened Mr Miyagi types, and advertising beamed straight on to my retinas for ease-of-use. Shopping would be as easy as blinking and, although I might lose some personal freedom, the constant buzz of 7-Up and Dunkin’ Donuts would soon help me get over it.

As it turns out, 30 came and went and I do still have a modicum of personal choice when it comes to what soft drink I buy or the shampoo I use. In return though, my brain gets stuffed with more and more adverts by the second, without so much as a robo-dog to bark his disapproval when a Cheryl Tweedy vehicle is nearby.

Most ads are bad; some ads are so bad they leave me gawping bubble-headedly like a heartbroken goldfish. And just like that goldfish, I’m faced with the same grim reality about every six seconds as these messages keep bombarding me…

Just for starters, here are two of my most despised. If you have more let me know, and we can stick them in a big scowl-y pot and hope the good god of advertising puts them out of their misery one day soon.

Number #1 – Notonthehighstreet.com

The overall premise of the site seems fine. Basically: ‘Here’s some cool stuff, to make surprising or different gifts’. However this run of recent tube ads seem to reveal a beige, chintzy belly to this ideal. First, they read like something a six-year-old would come up with in class (think ‘Here’s a gift for the best gran in Greenwich’, or ‘A present for my my bestest brother in Belsize Park’). Worse those ‘surprising or different gifts’ you were thinking of – well actually they seem to consist largely of ‘some plates or cushions we’ll put some writing on’.

I hope the website is full of brilliant, exciting presents – but the ad essentially looks like what would happen if Moonpig went into the mug business. And no one needs to see that.

Number #2 – Organic UK

I haven’t seen this too often, which is good as I felt like a pedant version of The Incredible Hulk every time I do, the veins on my neck pulsing with a love of good grammar and decent taste.

The premise: One apple to another: ‘Babes, I’ve gotta have my treatments’.

The second apple responds: ‘Not my style hun, I’m organic’.

That’s it. Two apples inflated with all the personality of something from Made in Chelsea, with a couple of lines of dialogue that are meant to convince us to unquestioningly change our dietary habits and shopping practices. Maybe I’m missing something, but this just feels lazy and derivative. It’s an important topic dressed in an excruciating façade (insert your own Boris Johnson joke here).

Frankly, this kind of thing makes me yearn for when I’m 60, and they can just implant my five-a-day directly into my stomach. And so what if my apple is actually 20 per cent horsemeat, I’ll be too high on the smell of robot lacquer and spicy noodles by then to care anyway.

Image by whatleydude courtesy of Flickr