After a monstrous night on the Papua New Guinean absinthe I have been surgically attached to the sofa watching Bangers And Cash for over 36 hours. Hopefully this R&R will give my internal organs the opportunity to regenerate from the untold damage the evil liquid has wreaked upon them, I also smoked three packs of Disque Bleu and bonged-up a lid of Nepalese Temple Balls – so delicacy is essential.
My rejuvenation programme has however been unceremoniously disturbed by the bane of today’s life – yes it’s The Modern Car Advert.
You must know them? That tortuous pile of over-branded pretentious bollocks that makes all right-thinking folk want to take a shit on the television set then set fire to anything that comes to hand before forming an angry mob to march on the media castles of Old Street and Hoxton Square.
Once there (I’ll get a cab from London Bridge and see y’all after lunch at Barrafina) we shall drag out those responsible for these insults to our humanity before stripping them of their jaunty hats, their French sewage worker jackets, their retro adidas Munich ‘72’s and Prada pangolin skin man-bags. They will be then ritually dressed in Farah slacks, Sketcher shoes, a North Face fleece and be made to work in a chemical factory in Middlesbrough for 23 years. They will have an arranged marriage with an alcoholic online bingo addict from Hull who makes you have violent sexual relations with her relatives – who, unfortunately for your bum-hole, are farm workers in mid Wales.
That should put an end to this shit.
I have composed a series of ‘slogans’ or ‘tag lines’ for the next tranche of appalling car ads they are bound to foist upon our poor mortal souls. The advert itself is the usual nonsense: a shiny ‘hybrid’ car with a range of 17 miles when fully charged drives along an unfeasibly spectacular road. The driver, who makes Halle Berry/Brad Pitt look like a slaughtered pig, has a faraway ‘just done a satisfying fart’ look and the car fades into a milky sunset, which fades to a three note muted synthesiser riff (probably by Brian Eno’s brother) which fades to one of my exciting tag lines. It matters not a single fuck which one is used….
Dream tomorrow now
Together nothing ends
Find yourself here
The power of us
Built with conscience
Your now is ours
Destiny holds today
I’m available through all the usual channels you wet-arsed wankers.
