Give The Future A Hug: 10 Groundbreaking Strategies

Working in advertising I worry all the time about the future of our precious industry. Thus, in order to sleep soundly at night and to stave off the kind of existential-meltdown everyone in advertising has roughly every 3 fucking minutes, I've drawn up a list of 10 groundbreaking strategies that'll ensure the future of our hallowed endeavours.

1. TV commericals you can actually punch
2. Swearing in sales letters (eg. "Fuck a duck Mrs. X, there's 50% off!" just to
make it more earthy)
3. No images of people. People are surrounded by people all day. People see
people in adverts and just think "Oh, fuck off."
4. Smaller type-faces. I had a headmaster who used to speak very quietly in
assemblies. The result was that everyone sat forward and listened. The same
rule applies to fonts.
5. "Helvetica Week" For one week of the year, all graphics and branding are
stripped away to just plain helvetica text on a white background.
6. Even more pretentious car adverts. The first agency to get a car ad on The
South Bank Show wins a team-building fun-day at the Sorbonne with Umberto Eco and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra.
7. Replace logos and brand guidelines with signature dishes and smells. What
does Hyundai's logo look like? I can't fuckin' remember. On the othter hand,
the smell of freshly baked bread is unforgettable. Or Natwest? The bank with
black and purple headers and footers on it's press or the bank that serves
wild mushroom risotto with rocket and permesan?
8. Children are really gullible and education is underfunded, so pay to advertise in schools.
9. Invent a secret advertising language to exclude people and create a "brand
underclass".
10. Send a brand-cyborg from the future back in time and get them to seed our
destiny via Facebook.

PLEASE NOTE: The future is bright. The future is Orange. This does not affect your statutory rights.

Mongs of Praise

Ha-ho, it is I Sir Harry Seacombe, sent down by God to go blogging on a Sunday -ha-ho!- and to spread the joyful word of our lord Jesus Christ Almighty. So lift up your voice and sing as we march hand in hand along the (information-super)Highway. Ha-ho.

Sunday is the traditonal day of roast. According to the Bible "on the seventh day He roasted" whilst at Easter time He roasted from the dead, don't you know. Ha-ho!

This weeks edition of (information-super)Highway comes from the beautiful town of Chichester, famous of course for it's magnificent cathedral and also it's annual arts and theatre festival. I first came here in 1964, with Thora Hird. We were appearing in Pygmalion together. I have fond memories of us meeting Michael Aspel after the show and us all taking poppers in the cloister over by the arch. Thora was still continent in those days, but we all pissed ourselves that night. Ha-ha-ho.

And from the spire you can see the rolling hills of the South Downs - truly England's green and pleasant land... That reminds me of a song...

"I'm walking backwards for Christmas..."

Banksy

A Cannibal Giving a White Man a Blowjob

Vanity, eh. It's knackering. All that preening, and primping, glancing in mirrors and sucking in your gut. Not to mention the early mornings to put all your botox on and shit or whatever... erm, yeah..? Well, anyway, I'm not vain in that way at all. But I am sickeningly vain in other ways.

I was speaking to the esteemed Creative Director of an esteemed agency yesterday (hello, Paul!) and we got talking about vanity projects - all those little creative sidelines that people have that inspire and inform their work. Whether it's a blog, or a band, or making t-shirts or anything, it's important to keep all that going, even though it's often hard to maintain the energy required to do them justice.

When I look back over the hard-drive of my PC, it's terrifying to see the number of half-baked, unfinished projects I've undertaken. Look:

This is the profile picture I made for a blog I was gonna write - a satire of a fundamentalist, jihad-preaching Imam. Somewhere, there'll be a Word document with the name I made-up for him on it as well as some sketches for posts. And that's just one idea out of 100's on the computer, not to mention the drawers full of notebooks and screwed-up bits of paper. You know how some women have cupboards full of shoes they'll probably never wear? Well, I have notebooks full of ideas I'll probably never use. Shocking.*

And on that note, I'll leave you with the most famous vanity project of all: the 1983 Bullseye Christmas tape.

(sorry can't embed this so you'll have to use the link)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Lg_x6aIQ9uQ

*Hasn't this post gone all wanky and "plannery"? I'll make sure there's more swearing in the next post, and stop sounding like a fucking adult-learning lecturer or something.

Calm down dear. It's only a commercial.

Shit. I've just remembered this blog's meant to be about advertising.

Eh. No. -Hang on. No it's not. This blog's about me. Duh!

Oh, thank Christ for that. For a minute there I thought I was one of those ludicrous, poe-faced planning blogs that say things like "Just bought some shoes. Such a simple idea. If only more brands were as simple as shoes" or one of those tedious industry/agency blogs that has more comments than content (ie. fawning undergraduates asking for jobs).

No, this blog's just about me saying exactly what I want, when I want. I said "nigger" the other day. And in the past I've even said "cunt" (although I say that a lot in real life too). I can say whatever the fucking flip I like. Cos I'm God here, right, yeah. Look. Here's a picture of some "Clown Porn".

What'dya make of that, eh? Eh? Eh!? Apparently LOADS of clients read my blog so they're gonna be really shocked to know that the people who make their advertising swear and have access to rude pictures. In fact, they're almost guaranteeed to take their business elsewhere. Because god forbid anything as conservative and demure as advertising should be tainted by something as radical and freethinking as the internet.

Oh my god. I've just shit my pants. Like, there's poo all over the place. Good job I'm not in the office. Or am I? As a reader you'll never know. As we speak I could be smearing my own shit all over the face of my creative director and weeing on your brief, laughing. Or I might just be working quietly at home, spinning you yarn to make you smile. Or think.

Sadly, our own industry is killing industry blogs due to a perceived conflict of interest. If you happen to run an advertising agency and feel that blogging poses a risk to your business, I suggest you go and work in an industry you actually understand. Or better still go and be a housewife, where you can while away your days being as hopeless and neurotic as you like. Clients no more read blogs like this than agencies turn work down because they don't fancy the job.

See, the brilliant thing about a blog is that anyone can set one up. It's easy. You don't have to get people to say things for you - you can say them yourself. It's about you speaking directly to your audience.

Don't agree? Then go get your own fucking audience instead of stealing mine, dickhead.

And the moral of the story? Well, calm down dear. It's only a blog. My penchant for queer-bashing and cattle mutilation is far, far worse than anything I could possibly say here about the industry.

Equal Opportunities

Apparently everyone reads my blog. Even clients. So in the interests of equality and inclusion, and in the hypocritical group-hug spirit of the Olympic Games, here's my little tribute to social diversity.

So. Sit back, forgive your enemies and put prejudice aside (but not so far aside as to exclude it altogether) and enjoy The Nigger Of Dibley.


LORD SHUFTY IS DRINKING PORT IN HIS SALON. THERE IS A KNOCK ON THE DOOR.

LORD SHUFTY: Who the blazes could this be? It's gorn 8 oclock.

LORD SHUFTY OPENS THE DOOR. ON THE DOORSTEP IS AN ENORMOUS BRAIN HOLDING A SUITCASE.

BRAIN: Lord Shufty? I'm Eleanor - your new nigger.

LORD SHUFTY: What! The new nigger you say? We weren't expecting you until Thursday. Well, you'd better come in. I'll have someone help you with your luggage. (HE RINGS A LITTLE BELL. A NEGRO FOOTMAN APPEARS). Ah, there you are Paddy. Would you be good enough to take this nigger's bag over to the ghetto.

PADDY: Certainly m'lud.

TOM TAKES THE SUITCASE OFF THE BRAIN AND LEAVES.

LORD SHUFTY: Good workers the Irish, eh? Anyway, do come through. I'll get you a drink.

BRAIN: Thank you m'lud.

LORD SHUFTY: So, how long have you been a nigger then? I must say I was a little disappointed to learn you were also a woman. Still, its the modern way I suppose.

BRAIN: I'm just flattered you chose me, m'lud. Being a giant brain and a woman can be a bit of a setback. But to get a job as a nigger in a place like Dibley is just a dream come true.

LORD SHUFTY: Good. Well, its nice to see a nigger with a positive attitude. Come on. I'll introduce you to my wife, Lady Andrew. I'm a bender and she's a pikey. You'll get on like a house on fire!

-Something for the weekend, sir?

-Oh, yes please.
-Might I suggest a sinister photograph, sir?
-Oh. Lovely. Thank you.