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Posts Tagged ‘TV Ads’

There’s a lot of shitty ads on TV. Any student will tell you this. Students spend a lot of the time being abused by advertisements for the latest ringtones, and badly dubbed-over ads of the perfect family needing to clean their kitchen. Not to mention the horrible, horrible ads for the 2010 soccer world cup.

Don’t even get me started on 2010. Whilst I’m glad that the World Cup has largely sheltered SA from complete economic meltdown, by creating jobs where otherwise there would be none, it has done no favours to the advertising industry.

SA ads are dismally bad. But one company has done something right for a change. And for once, I don’t actually mind seeing the ads on TV. And would you even believe that it’s a petro-chemical company? It’s not even Shell, exploiting a Ferrari in their time honoured tradition. It’s BP.

BP: The best 2010 Sponsor thus far.

BP: The best 2010 Sponsor thus far.

If you haven’t seen the ads yet, it’s essentially soccer matches played between South African stereotypes. So we have Mama’s vs Cafe Owners, Taxi Drivers vs Sandton Poppies, and even Car Guards vs I can’t Remember. The ads are brilliant. Even the attention to detail in the stands, with the Car Guard supporter’s holding out banners reading ‘Don’t worry, I am here’, and the Taxi Driver banners shouting out ‘When days are dark friends are few.’ It’s simply genius.

Keep an eye out, SA advertising people. South Africans don’t mind laughing at ourselves. We’re really good at it. With a president like JZ, how couldn’t we be?

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While I do realise that this is nothing new to anyone, whilst eating breakfast this morning it struck me again – what has happened to the world of advertising? TV ads are never really good, but every now and then something different happens.

This different can take the form of an ad with a twist, something funny, something to warm the cockles of your heart, or even something that makes you go: “Heh?” As one of the media Writers at The Sunday Independent put it:

Advertising has a surprising number of unwritten rules and conventions for an industry that prides itself on its left-field, out-of-the-box, blue-sky thinking. Cars must be shown speeding round hairpin bends. Haircare commercials are apparently obliged to feature a dodgy science sequence and there seems to be some law which says that banks have to be youthful, honest and in touch.

So please excuse when I sat down to watch a film recently and was presented with a Gorilla playing drums. To sell chocolate.

The ad makes no sense, I couldn’t find the link between the Phil Collins and the Dairy Milk. So I jumped on the interwebs in search of  meaning. Some people need religion to find meaning. Luckily, I have Google.

But then I realised. That’s just it. The clever folks at Fallon London (the agency that gave us the drumming gorilla) doesn’t want there to be a link. It wants you to be confused by the ad. So that you talk about the ad when you’re sitting in the bar with your friends. It’s genius. Be confused, go WTF?, and have a chocolate. What’s 6 million times better is Wonderbra’s spoof of the ad, which replaced the tagline “A glass and a half full of joy,” with “Two cups full of joy.” Brilliant.

Is viral marketing the most effective method? Does it really sell you more things than the good old fashioned interruption-method? I’m not so sure. Yes, if what you have becomes viral, it certainly does spread faster, but I’m not sure that it’s remembered as long. I can still remember the David Kramer Volksiebus ads, Aquafreshing doing it all in one (mum), and whilst not always the obvious choice, every know and then I’ll say no to the coffee and rather have a Bar-One. Taglines people. That’s where it’s at. I can’t remember half the viral videos I’ve watched, mostly because the only effect they have (and to a certain degree this is desired) is that they make you go “Oh, that’s cool”, and then are instantly forgotten.

So what’s next for Cadbury? Well seeing as the gorilla ad was shot in 2007, two years ago for those who are mathematically impaired, I had a look at what has since been aired in the UK after the gorilla. It would seem that what we have to look forward to is something called “Cadbury Eyebrows” Brace yourself. The so-called rules of advertising are being re-written. Soon we’re going to see bald people advertising hair shampoo. Whilst playing the flute.

Mark my words.

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The benifits of looking after your parents house whilst they are in Germany are many. There’s the fact that you can turn the heater on without feeling too guilty. The fact that the lounge isn’t tiled. The swimming pool in summer. The DSTV. And that I can watch America’s Next Top Model in glorious 32″ LCD flatscreen glory. Beautiful.

Last week the redheaded stepchild was sent home. I liked her, in the way that she had balls. Unfortunately I also strongly suspect that she was a lesbian, and she may have been sent home after peeking at the other girls in the shower. I’m only saying it because no-one else is. But that was last week.

This week’s ‘skill’ the girls had to learn was the art of multi-tasking. ‘Task’ might be a bit of a strong word though. What they had to do, was walk down a catwalk (already a challenge for some), and take off a jacket. At the same time. The poor girls made it seem like a very difficult task indeed. So, to see just how difficult it was, I walked to the kitchen and took off my nightgown (at the same time! And yes, I wear a nightgown. Do you know how cold it is?). No problem. I then made myself a coffee, put on the robe and then, whilst walking back to lounge, had not one, but several sips of coffee. I am totally America’s Next Top Model.

Multi-Tasking. Even this guy can do it. AND he took the picture.

Multi-Tasking. Even this guy can do it. AND he took the picture.

Earlier on in the evening I bumped into MusicLady on Twitter, and we had a great Twitter dissing session whilst the show was happening (I know. I need a life). Her contribution to the girl’s general lack of basic motor control: “they are retards. youre taking off a jacket, not assembling a rocket ship! tools!” What amused me even more than the girls not being able to walk, was the extend to which the tranny runway coach was either hungover or coming down from whatever drugs. It was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the flamboyant, homosexual, bald, pencil-moustached, overweight twins which followed.

This led to the mini challenge, which was essentially, once again, a wonderful exercise in stereotyping. The challenge took place in a church, and the girls were outfitted in clothing best described as NunSlut. Right from the over-zealous black minister to the hand fans held by the audience, I had swallow the little bit of puke that made it up the back of my throat.

Meanwhile, back at the palace of all things Tyra, Nnenna was once again on the phone to her boyfriend. For hours. This obviously pissed Brooke off, leading to her spewing the hatred of: “What makes her special, she’s from Africa. Well go back to Africa then!” Oh bitchy bitchy Brooke. You just can’t say things like that. Especially if you come from Texas. People will make assumptions.

This is the best picture based joke of Texas I could find. Sorry.

This is the best picture based joke of Texas I could find. Sorry.

But now for the scariest part. The final photo shoot.

For this shoot the girls had to model a pair of shoes (all of which were fugly as shit). Cool, no problem. We can do shoes. The girls were then told that for this shoot they would have to dance. Cool, no problem here either. The style of dancing would be something known as crumping, a form of hip-hop dancing featuring clowns. Wait, what? Did I just use hip-hop and clown in the same sentence? I think I did.

Now imagine this, dancing to hip-hop.

Now imagine this, dancing to hip-hop.

I struggled to find a good definition for crumping. You know, one that will tell me the influences of the dance, certain moves, etc. I couldn’t find any. Urbandictionary did however provide me with an excellent alternative definition:

Crumping The act of dressing up as a crumpet. Covering yourself with butter and jam and then through a series of dance like shaking movements attempting to remove them before your competitors.
Man that was the worst crumping I have ever seen, you were as fresh as just out of the packet.
So besides hardcore clown dancing, the ladies managed to get some nice shots of the ugly shoes. When it came to elimination time and Tyra put on her serious voice, Jade’s ego got inflated just a little bit more, and Leslie got sent home.

Which one was Leslie?
Oh yeah, that one. See what I meant with the clowns?

Oh yeah, that one. See what I meant with the clowns?

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ANTM – Ice, ice, baby

I’m beginning to live for Monday nights. There’s just such good TV on. It used to be that there was always something decent on every night of the week, but now that everything has been rescheduled, on a Monday night you can just sit on your arse and have a TV binge. It feels gooooooooood.

Last night was once again time for me too sit and relax whilst watching more undernourished hopefuls try and become America’s Next Top Model. Last week they had the baldy makeover, so naturally this week they went to go and have a proper makeover. Great stuff. What I liked is that they had no say in what was done to their hair. *insert evil laugh*

What an epic fail. Ladies, your hair does not dictate who you are. Particularly disturbed was Sara. Lady, did you see what your hair looked liked before? I give you a before and after:

Sara before and after the chop.

Sara before and after the chop.

Now please ignore the actual photoshoot, because yes, she does look like shit. But surely her hair looks way better after the haircut? Anyway. They went back to the house with new hair and new egos… Furonda, Furonda, Furonda… Who the hell gives their housemates a set of rules on how to interact with you? Seriously, who does that?

This week the gay guy with the silver hair also displayed his amazing use of bad puns. I lost count of how many times he made mention of the fact that the girls were ‘freezing up,’ being ‘icy’ and looking ‘cold.’ They’re surrounded by fucking ICE! Tut tut tut.

There’s also the wonderful way how the judges insult the models, by trying to compliment them. This week’s quote: ”
You are not classically pretty, you’re wrong. But that wrong is sort of right.” Oh pa-leeze.

This week we said goodbye to Wendy, the girl who lost everything in Hurricane Katrina and truly believed that a TV show would solve all her problems. Time to go home. Oh wait, you don’t have one. Nice going, Tyra.

Back to New Orleans, bitch.

Back to New Orleans, bitch.

On a side note, what still baffles the mind is that the Gaviscon ad is still on TV. There have been far too many blogs about the hidden meaning in this ad, you know, the one with the sperm fireman, now available for infants as well! Oh dear.

Gaviscon - it's like a fireman came in your mouth. Or in this case, your baby's mouth.

Gaviscon - it's like a fireman came in your mouth. Or in this case, your baby's mouth.

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