This one's for the kiddies at bedtime

Naughty, naughty Beeb. Aunty pulls one of the oldest viral tricks in the book in this ad for Radio 4's sci-fi season.

My friend is invisibler than your friend na na na na na

My pet fairies are amused by the unashamed presence of two stories in Her Majesty's Daily Telegraph.
Story 1: Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor: 'Many believe Christianity is out of step with society'
Story 2: One in five young children have imaginary friends
Perhaps some adults have no need of imaginary friends.

Leave the country before it’s too late

Britain in the year 2025. The country is over-run by a new teenage tribe that is both timid and angry (think of slightly peeved hamsters – cute but nasty-tempered little buggers).
Their mothers are church-going cancer-obsessed housewives who spend their days beating away council bin spies from Atlantis.
Their fathers are hard-working white-collar workers who have to dodge the hordes of asylum-seeking gipsy policemen on their way to the office every morning.
These youngsters are the result of an evil new experiment.
Today, the Daily Mail launched a dating website which “it hopes will bring like-minded Daily Mail readers together”.
Britain, be very afraid.

That sound you hear is the dropping of a very loud clanger

Sometimes it seems that advertising is an idea that escaped from Narnia. Agency says this. Advertiser does that.
Knowing how many failed or wannabe rockers live in agencies, I'll bet Swiftcover's idea to include Iggy Pop in its ads came from their agency MWO. In my limited experience of these things, the insistence upon a particular celeb appearing in an ad usually comes from the client if that celeb happens to be a hot(ish) babe.

The daft idea must have been passed by Swiftcover with half of their collective brain switched off. Hence the rather strained concept of Iggy Pop being chosen "as the face of its advertising because he loves life, not because he is a musician". This was the sorry excuse emerging from that insurance company as it gets hammered for not offering cover to musicians. When I see Iggy I do not think "here's a man who loves life". No, my first thought is "fucked up and possibly deranged rocker who seems reasonably happy".

A rock star in an ad for a service that excludes musicians?

Deliciously stupid.

Ve haf vays of making you tug

I muchly like this twee ad for German sex toy company Beate Uhse’s new TV channel. If you suffer from the extreme form of pareidolia that causes you to see such images in clouds, puddles and on pieces of toast then maybe you don’t need the service advertised here.
A tag line that says “You’ll see it, your kids won’t” is slightly unfortunate if your grandparents were kept awake at night counting bombs during the Blitz. The company’s founder, you see, used to fly in the Luftwaffe.

Magnopulse’s medicinal magnets make magic money

Magnopulse, I love you! Even though I do not have ladybits attached (most of the time) I decided to try out their magnetic healing system and – guess what – my fictional ladypains diminished!
It would be medically irresponsible for me to recommend using their Ladycare product beyond its specifications but let’s say that if, hypothetically, a frustrated gentleman were to balance one of these medicinal magnets on his cock whilst watching a webcam of nurses with dildos in a mud bath, then would one attribute the ensuing results as proof that the product works, or that he’s just a dirty bugger?
Well, apart from being a fully qualified nutritionist (i.e. I can tell the difference between a Mars Bar and a banana) I’m no medic and, I guess, neither are 99% of menopausal women, but our gullibility is being tested here. Also, statistically, six out of seven dwarves aren’t Happy and, here’s another fairy tale: Magnopulse products are stuffed with science that’ll solve your lady problems. Even better, this pioneering company has a "powerful coaster" that will spin you a magic web of credulity when you put a glass of water on it.
If you think this is all bullshit, you’ll be pleased to note that my Chimpworks Z-1000 Taurean Stool Detector probably agrees (I have to say probably, otherwise it’ll set off the Big Fuck-off Red Light, which is accompanied by a loud quacking sound, allegedly).
Footnote: a quick Google search for the high priest of Magnopulse, Dr Nyjon Eccles (which at first glance made me think of something naughty you do with cream while wearing pyjamas) leads to this lovely dissection from Quackometer.
Two years later, and the woo continues.

What does that mean, grandad?

And the Word Of The Day is...

via Boing Boing

Big balls!

With delicious timing, LBC's deranged supermum Jeni Barnett's anti-vaccination rant was swiftly followed by the public death throes of Andrew Wakefield's deluded claim that the MMR jabs were dangerous. What the world really needs now, in order to nail the destructive claims from such dangerous idiots, is some pro-vaccine advertising. First strike goes to Canada.

via Respectful Insolence

Freeeeeeeeakz!!

Something's in the water up in sunny Hull.

via

For the hell of it

via

Car needs cleaning

Click pic for visual engorgement

Found on the richness that is the b3ta links board.

Bothered? Not a lot

A tip of the hat to magician Paul Daniels and his missus Debbie McGee for spoofing themselves and the Beckhams seemingly just for the hell of it. Are they promoting a TV show? Who cares?
Here they are again in one of a series of four Heineken ads that ran in 2001.

It works, holistically

The Chimpworks Z-1000 contains at least 98% science

The Chimpworks Z-1000 Taurean Stool Detector is uniquely engineered to make full use of the q-zone crystal quantum z-rays that are at the heart of its homeopathically-advised dodecahedron-shaped water molecule engine. The Chimpworks Z-1000 officially contains no less than 98% science.
Tired of food interfering with your aura? Six thousand monkey nutritionists have (with the help of the Chimpworks Z-1000) proven, without the inconvenient burden of evidence, that the Kymatika K-Test (available at all good branches of Superdrug) REALLY WORKS.
Yes! At least 80% of happy punters discovered that just ten minutes spent on a K-Test leaves them, on average, a holistic thirty pounds lighter. Our independent analysis did find that most K-Tests did generate a faint odour of bovine excreta, but this can be countered by carrying any book by Dame Dr Gillian McKeith OBE.
Look! The K-Test has been tested on LBC! 586,000 satisfied listeners successfully endured an interview that consisted of at least 23% coherent English!
There is no evidence that the K-Test is endorsed by LBC’s Jeni Barnett, but my monkey instinct tells me that she’d probably like it. If any sceptical scientists or medical killjoys contradict either me, anyone from Kymatika or anyone who works for LBC, then you are strongly advised to stick a finger in each ear and shout “La la la!” until the feeling of cognitive dissonance passes.

Just in case there were any doubts about my last post

P4CM's reaction to my Wank For Jesus campaign

The website p4cm, or Passion For Christ Movement, unintentionally sexualises some suspiciously young-looking God botherers with its range of delusional t-shirts. In so doing, it unleashes a new fundamentalist Christian paradox: If you say you’re an ex-wanker, then you’re a wanker.

Despair felt as Chavspeak hits Oscar idents

Celebrate with... WHAT !?

Anyone bringing a bottle of Mow-ett to the party will be asked to leave via the tradesmen's entrance.

Thumb a lift

In situ (spotted on FARK)

FACT! Surgeon!

"Do not confuse with Sturgeon."




For more examples of stupidification, check out Fuckwitapedia

See also:
FACT! Flood!
FACT! Evolution=Nazis!
FACT! Pianist!!
FACT! Throat!
FACT! Hedgehog!
FACT! Femininity!
FACT! Toronto!
FACT! Religious War!
FACT! Rocks!
FACT! Chuck Norris!
FACT! Fornication!
FACT! Pens!
FACT! Kangaroos!
FACT! The 19th Century!
FACT! Dinosaurs!

Poor Wozza

It's sad to see TV chefs like Antony Worrall Thompson going to the wall, as reported in today's Telegraph. No, I am genuinely mildly tearful over these little lambs (especially Gordon Ramsay) because I did think that they'd have the chutzpah to ride out the recession. The lifestyle trend of the moment is "staying in is the new going out", or so we're told, which is why Sky subscriptions, dinner parties and DVD rentals are on the up. Cinema takings are up too as visiting the flicks is a relatively cheap night out (as long as you don't buy any junk food, sweets or drink in cinema). I'd have thought that downsizing menus to reduce the number of options (meaning greater economies of scale) would have kept diners coming through the doors. Oh well, you can't be right all the time.
(Note to regular readers: This semi-serious article was written as an excuse to post the following short video of Antony Worrall Thompson making a tit of himself)

See also: Gordon, get out of my f-ing face

Eyebrow skits: why did it take this long?

I don't recall anyone skitting the awful follow-up to the Cadbury gorilla ad (trucks on a runway zzzzz), which may suggest a correlation between quality advertising and the urge to take the piss out of it.
This is Soccer AM's take (light-hearted TV show on Sky Sports every Saturday morning) on the Cadbury Eyebrows.

Shock as Z-list celeb talks out of arse

On the grounds that LBC is a commercial radio station that depends on advertising revenues, and on the even more tenuous grounds of this blog being about media monitoring, I present an example of a radio presenter firing off a rant that can physically harm or even kill children. And just in case there is any doubt about where I'm coming from, I am bloody furious.
The benefits of child vaccines are attacked from two sides. One argument is that they can cause autism, a dangerous delusion which has thankfully been blown out of the water. The other argument is that innoculations like MMR are pointless because kids need to be exposed to these illnesses to make them stronger.
The media flurry exists on both sides of the pond. In the USA, Jenny McCarthy campaigns against innoculations. In the UK, we had apparently put this argument to bed and are trying to tidy the mess of the MMR scare ("Health watchdog reports sharp increase in childhood measles").
When my chimplets were due their innoculations my GP explained that the diseases were potentially more dangerous than the unproven risk of the innoculations. With the medical evidence that measles can kill on one hand, and no evidence that MMR causes harm (note: the plural of "anecdote" is not "evidence") on the other, I was under no illusions that the jabs were absolutely necessary.
Jeni Barnett owns one of those daytime TV faces that's bolted to a "personality" of which I had no opinion, until now. This broadcasting drone has seen fit to fire off her anecdote-based opinions against vaccination. What's unexpectedly amusing is that Dr Ben Goldacre (author of one of the best science books I've read in years) decided to post Ms Barnett's rant on his website, and is being hit with legal threats for shining a light on her daft outburst.
There's a strange wind blowing through British celeb media at the moment, with lynch mobs after Jonathan Ross, Russell Brand, Carol Thatcher and Jeremy Clarkson for referring or talking to people in an insulting manner. What Barnett has said is far, far worse because of its potential to encourage gullible or ill-informed parents to make a decision that they may well regret later.
Here's a copy of Dr Goldacre's post which has been removed, with the "illegal" sound file. Here's Jeni Barnett's woeful reaction on her blog. And here's #1 science blogger Prof. PZ Myers' take on the stupidfest.
**Edit** Dr Goldacre sets the record straight

Facebook sells me God Sex. Yes, me, the Sex God

Thanks Facebook, for that little message, but keep your imaginary sky fairies off my homepage. I think that God's got enough on his plate fucking with the Middle East without Him needing to get involved in my bedroom, ta very much. If I need help in that department then I'll just spend a little more time perusing the dairy section of my local Asda. Cheers.

Don't worry. Everything's going to be alright

Pinch me because I must be dreaming and it’s 2007 again. Remember that feeling of wellbeing you had before you started to worry about the wave of immigrant polar bears stealing your job as they fled the melting ice caps?
This ad is circa today, and with heart-warming confidence omits any mention of emissions or recession-friendly words like “value” or “saving”. And there is no number with a slashed pound-sign on it either. There’s the Teutonically-enigmatic word “efficiency” which has more to do with overtaking oiks on the motorway with minimum fuss than it has to do with saving cash because the engine’s so damn good at extracting the final calorie from every litre of petrol.
So, thank you WCRS for reminding us that, for some, the recession is merely a minor inconvenience that will pass as quickly as that BMW on its way to that posh charity bash for distressed bankers. I feel much better now.

Aw ‘kinell, do I have to?

Just like there’s always at least one pregnant weather girl on the telly, there is also at least one bloggy meme thing knocking around the admosphere. I thought I’d kept my head down but Jetpacks has caught me out.
Luckily we’ve had, by British standards, a fierce world-ending blizzard today. This means that the country has been neutralised by snowfall, the only time two inches can keep a woman in bed all day.
I did somehow fight my way into Giraffe Towers this morning, seemingly the only bugger on my floor to have bothered, apart from one of my PAs who came in crying. She asked me to console her, so I hit her over the head with my Nintendo DS.
Twas a reasonably quiet day (no phones ringing, thank the gods), so I’ve been able to think about this for at least, oh, six minutes.
To quote Jetpacks, cos I’m too damn lazy to put it into my own words:

During the last round of "Seven Things About Me," the blogger meme where you tell....yes... seven (likely unknown) things about yourself...I opted out when a few of my virtual friends asked me to play along, citing my previous involvement in the game.
I've rethought it and decided to play, but with a twist.
I will reveal seven things about my future self, and then call out a few bloggers to do the same.

So here are 7 things about my future, which is of course, your future:

• A new bird flu virus transmitted by grouse devastates the Royal Family leaving me, 327,889th in line to the throne, in charge.


• I pull rank at the ASA to ensure that only ads that feature monkeys, ducks or giraffes are passed for public consumption. Let’s face it, the PG Tips chimps were the funniest things on telly, ever.


• I finally stop having those terrifying dreams where, decades after graduating, I still have to file one last dissertation.


• Somehow I have achieved the impossible: a freshly-cooked Sausage & Egg McMuffin at lunchtime (the laws of physics may have to change to allow this).


• At one of those uncomfortable social occasions populated by too many posh people which I always seem to attend in order to please someone else, I surprise everyone by playing the bouzouki. People swoon and make those patronising ethnic statements that I used to enjoy when employing a heavy Greek accent.


• I finally get to tell THAT joke about the priest, the pencil sharpener and the cucumber. At a wedding.


• My children are genuinely taken aback when they find out that yes, I really do have a spaceship buried under the garden.

Now, the deeply unpleasant bit where I pick some of those ad bloggers who I know occasionally drop into this vastly significant forum, and compel them to pick their future sevens. Yeah well, that’ll teach you to blog. Feed the beast and sometimes it bites back:

Famous Rob. Because the-ad-pit looks exactly the same as it did 4 years ago and yet somehow through astute web diplomacy and smart writing has turned it into one of the blogs to read about the murky world of planning.

Scamp. Well, I ask you. I was reading Scamp before Campaign turned him into the Dark Lord of Blogging for British Creatives. Admittedly, there are no other blogs by UK creatives that have endured for so long and evolved to the point where many blog posts can hit 100 comments. Unlike those Johnny-come-latelys who read Scamp now, some of us remember him as a cheeky puppy. Now he’s all grown up, like, and doesn’t play in the junior playground any more.

Doug. Or Hector. WTF? Graeme has swallowed an html coding book, defected to Wordpress and created a swanky blog totally in line with the look of his swanky employer.

Amelia. Because she has publicly admitted on her blog that she wants to find something to do after recovering from an operation.

Charles. Because he regularly comments on my other blog, which I don’t update as often as I should, and has an unreasonably interesting life as reported in Punk Planning.

The Kaiser. Or Sacrum. Or is it Marcus? Because he’s fucking mad. And brilliant.

I’s gonna add some more but bejeesus is that the time? 24’s about to start! Out!

Look out for this evil man

Very serious US news bulletin that has to get a mention here. Commit the suspect's likeness to your memory immediately.

What happens when the BBC switches on a webcam when it snows

via