"Unacceptable", says Janine

And I agree. First hedgehogs and hamsters; now this!

I just don't know what to do with myself.

I Work In Advertising

Often, people write in to me with their hands, begging to know what it is that I do during the day. I do not say much. The answer is not what I wish it were (i.e., "I am non-working"); usually I say, "I work in an advertising agency", because that is what I do.

Often that is enough and the people stop talking to me, leaving me alone to snack from the capacious cheeseboard that is the inevitable feature of any social gathering nowadays, but sometimes they say, "Oh, do you write the adverts then?", and I say, "No, I do not write the ads*", and then they say, "are you an Account Execketiff?", and I say, for there is no point trying to explain, "yes, something like that".


Then they start talking and I start thinking about death. Usually the topics are as follows:


"Obviously I don't work in the business but let me tell you what I think about all the ads currently on telly, because I am a consumer and therefore my opinion is very important."


 I do not try and explain the notion of "targeting" to these people as they just cross their arms in a self-congratulatory style and say, again, "Yes, but ultimately, we're all consumers, aren't we?", even if they are a 49 year old accountant from Shrewsbury slagging off an ad for a mobile telephone designed for 23 year olds.

"I tell you what my favourite ad is ... "


It is usually something from the 1980s featuring a ghastly 'jingle', or one of the following:

- famous music (e.g. the Hovis ad)
- cartoon animals (e.g. Creature Comfort HeatElectric ads)
- someone famous (e.g. Cinzano)
- something with child in it.

I am glad you like the ad you like, and I am glad that you care enough to remember it,  but do not assume I want to hear about it.  (And yes, I probably have seen it already.)

"I don't know how you can live with yourself. Advertising is morally wrong."

Oh grow up.

I will listen to you if you can prove that you do not expose yourself to, or enjoy anything that is funded by, advertising - e.g. newspapers, magazines, most TV, most free digital content.

"I am going to tell you a really good idea I had for an advert once. I can't believe they didn't make it, but I won't be surprised if they use it one day."

Interesting fact: whether you agree with it morally or not, coming up with advertising ideas that do what they're supposed to, i.e. sell stuff, is fucking difficult and very, very few people can do it well. Your idea is probably not very good, otherwise you would be wearing questionable trousers and sitting in an office in Soho earning a million pounds a year.

"Most advertising on the telly these days is shit ."

True.

"The Dove campaign is a cynical marketing ploy brought to you by the company that make Lynx, and it is hypocritical in the extreme."

True. But also false. Sort of.

"You must have moral doubts about what you do."


Not really. Not moral ones. I don't think what I do is very useful or important in the grand scheme of things, but I enjoy it. When I'm not working with idiots.

"Advertisers should stop spending money on advertising and, like, invest it back in the business or give it back to shareholders or something."

Do you own any kind of share-based savings or pension plan?
Yes.
Do you know how businesses are valued?
Yes.
So you know the difference between a tangible and an intangible asset, then?
No.
Well shut the fuck up then.

"Ads interrupt everything and are really annoying."

True.

And with that, have a monkey:



And if you don't like that, how about a live pet seahorse with shell for only $1?
















And if you don't like THAT, how about this?



(Could you see the ladies? I couldn't, but I could hear them.)


* How to tell if someone who works in advertising knows that they're talking about: rank amateurs call them 'adverts'; those that reckon they know what they are doing call them 'ads'. In North America, they call them 'spots' (when talking about television commercials). No-one else gives a fuck.

I wonder about absorbency ranges

I am idly looking at a box of Tampax, and what do I see but a chart not unlike this one:



6 grams? 8 grams? 124 grams? Who knows? How do you find out? Would you WANT to find out? Who invented this chart? Was it a man?

(I am not what they call a 'feminist' and all of that and do not get on soapboxes or wear dungarees. One of the worst fights I ever got into was with a feminist man who was supporting Andrea Dworkin's blah about all men being potential rapists, etc. Utterly tedious. Fairness for all, no whingeing on either side and just getting on with it, that's my tip.

I am firmly of the opinion, however, that if men had periods having a week off work every month would be standard, a great many pharma products would exist to deal with PMT and the like and, of course, all tampons, pads etc would be made of spaceage materials, delivered to your door free every month by government officials, and/or available at pleasant "Period Centres", where said men would be able to loll about all day moaning and being looked after, probably by women.)

I do not know much about mental health

By cautiously eyeing my 'Site-meter' and clicking on a 'link', I see that I am in a 'blog-roll' listed under "Mental Health Blogs".

It is true that the state of non-workingness is the only one in which I find true peace (due in part to extra hours available to adjust fez, chew on pipe, read OK! Canada, etc); I generally recommend that people keep things in perspective and avoid getting in a mardy bate, and am of the opinion that you should not do things that make you unhappy*, but I do not know much about mental health!

Still, it is nice to be 'positioned' as something (as the marketing johnnies say!!!), particularly in this day and age.


* I do not include in this the everyday business of living, e.g. phoning up call centres, paying bills, travelling on the London Underground, noticing that Jeffrey Archer is still alive, etc.

I remain confused about my response to photographs of tiny creatures

Even as a tiny monkey barely out of the maternal tree*, the call of the 'sweet' (or what the North Americans would call 'cute') was never particularly strong. Pink, Little Kitty, bows, skipping, fairies, Mills and Boon, sugary things; teenage makeup, boy bands (inc. Marky Mark and his Funky Bunch), glitter, stickers and using smileys and/or hearts instead of a dot over the letter 'i': out.

Ponies/horses (inc. in dangerous situations, e.g. imaginary three-day-eventing and/or riding to Olympic victory for Britain and winning gold against the odds, e.g. with dislocated shoulder,somewhat in style of International Velvet): in. Thinking giggly girls were fucking idiots: in. Going to spastically academic dayschool and not realising sexism existed until met male Chemistry students at university: also in.

But now alarm bells ring! Give me a photograph of a small and random creature (not puppies and/or kittens; something wild, perhaps, or in the rodent family), and I feel a strange and unfamiliar combination of tenderness and wild amusement.

For e.g., please examine the home-made nature of this small hamster's neckwear:















Observe the helpless childlike paws of this blonde hedgehog (an animal which, it must be noted, is mainly made of fleas and eats dog food for fun):



And, on that subject, why is it that I - a sometime drinker of absinthe and gambler on the cock-fights - am rendered insensible with tenderness and glee at the sight of these three little fellas?



And why does my best friend in England reply to every email containing a photograph of a tiny hedgehog with the words "that's DISGUSTING"?

I shall I suppose have to put these questions at the bottom of the list marked "Random Questions About The Very Nature of the Universe"; one day the answer will come up, much in the way that I hope one day an answer will emerge to the eternal question, "Why is Jeffrey Archer?".


* the fact that my mother is out of her tree is another issue altogether.