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It's all a load of bollocks, quite frankly

Adverts… Bloody Adverts, they’re everywhere, make them stoooooooooppppp!

I swear if I see that bunch of self-satisfied morons on the Halifax advert thinking they’re “clever” singing Isa over the equally moronic cover (read stealing) of a classic Queen song I am going to throw golf balls at the television. What’s more, they dared use Lucky You, one of my favourite singles by my favourite beat combo the Lightning Seeds. I suppose this was to act as some witticism to persuade a would-be Halifax customer that they would be lucky. Ha! I bank with Halifax and I’m far from fucking lucky I tell thee.

Now look! The television is trying to convince me that some firemen will cure my indigestion. Yes of course, when I have the joys of heartburn or indigestion the first thing I think of is not to take some tablets but to insert some fireman’s equipment down my throat, ooh err missus. Now there’s two bints jigging around a set of bongos advertising online bingo. I mean online fucking bingo? Dear sweet fucking Jesus, does it never end? Nope, apparently not because that overweight and overvoiced Go Compare singist is now in space trying to “sing” the merits of having more than third party, fire and theft on a space rocket. Do us a favour? Stay in space. Twat.

As for car adverts, Lord above these are the second biggest bane of my life below drivers of German cars. I’m really, really not interested in how quickly it will fly to the moon, how well it will drive up a mountain or whether the car can also be used as a potato peeler. Give it to me straight – show the car in the advert, especially if it is a bit of a looker. Tell me how fast it goes. Tell me the fuel economy. Tell me how many stolen TV sets I can fit in the boot. I’m not interested in this pretentious BMW drive through joy bollocks or whether some actress and the car have become intertwined so therefore she is the spirit of the car. Argh! If it’s not that, then it’s stupid cloth puppets trying to sell you a Vauxhall Corsa whilst shouting “C’mon!” The problem being is the Vauxhall Corsa isn’t worth advertising – I know, my wife has one. Furthermore, the phrase is spelt “come on”.

And then there’s dear old British Telecom. Instead of providing excellent customer service, reasonable prices and reliable phone and internet services, they’d rather serve up some bilge that’s supposed to be some form of storyline to get people interested. At least it goes some way to explaining why BT are such a bunch of robbing bastards because they have to pay for this drivel. But does the advert tell you what you will be paying for? No. Does it tell you anything useful? Erm, no. Is it interesting? Is it fuck. My 18 month old godson could come out with a far better storyline than this. No, really he could, he’s a genius.

The compensation adverts really take the cake though. We’re Mollycoddlemambypambyyou’reatotalmug Solicitors dot net. Have you had an accident at work? Yes? Well, why the fuck didn’t you look where you were going you utter cock? Oooh, looky here! There’s some scaffolding there, I’ll walk into it and then trip over the cable that I left and sue my employers for my own negligence. Result! Jesus, if I did that at work I’d be a multi-millionaire! I’ve tripped over countless things at work, my head has gone through a hefty pane of glass in an up and over garage door and I’ve had my foot run over by a customer’s Fiat Cinquecento. That’s not to mention a certain glass door I ran at full pelt into. And do I moan? Well, yes actually, but that’s another story. No, wait, it’s in this story. Anyway it’s hardly worth suing for. Man up and get on with your lives. Wankers.

Something must be said for watching the BBC occasionally. None of this bollocks turns up. But then the BBC need to show some decent television every now and then. And as for ITV – is there any point in their existance?

March 21, 2011 Posted by | Rants | Leave a comment

   

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