Terry's Chocolate Orange

For a decade, Dawn French was the enthusiastic face of Terry’s Chocolate Orange. As a brand ambassador, hers always struck me as a curious appointment. With vast swathes of the population desperately fighting the flab, where was the logic in ads whose subtext surely implied ‘dig in and you too could soon be popping into Evans Outsize in your quest to find the perfect black shroud and beaded moo moo’? A recent straw poll of Twitter foodies revealed scant appetite for Kraft’s sugary confection. Will these ‘smashing’ commercials make converts? I doubt it: so irritating is the hammering and banging within, you’d be forgiven for hurling any TCO you might have to hand straight at your TV screen. But as they appear virtually indestructible I wouldn’t go there. £499 at Curry’s is a lot to pay for a quick choccie fix.

See TV commercial here: http://tinyurl.com/2fbwdcm 

Michelin

As an L driver, I was advised never to resort to retreaded tyres. So it’s curious that Michelin Man should roll with what sounds like a retread of The Gorillaz (Michelin's UK PR was unable to say who  the actual artist is). The similarity is even more uncanny on the American version of this global commercial. Search ‘Michelin Sad Road’ on YouTube and find the UK voiceover replaced by a dude who sounds spookily like the late Dennis Hopper on the band’s Fire Coming out of the Monkey’s Head. I digress: the real story here is that fluffy potential roadkill should rejoice. Their salvation lies in a tyre that can stop in nanoseconds thanks to its grip. As for midnight stoners stumbling across this freaky animated trip, they’ll be gripped... like rabbits in oncoming headlights.

Watch it here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jct1XSUjwAM  

Jackpotjoy.com

Forgetting I’d left the TV on down the hall, when first I heard this ad’s soundtrack as noises off, I feared a kookaburra had invaded my sitting room. Closer inspection revealed the horrendous cackle as none other than that of Peggy Mitchell risen, phoenix-like, from the ashes of the burnt-out Queen Vic to be crowned the Queen of Bingo in a skit that recalls ancient variety show, The Good Old Days. It seems The People’s Pearly Queen, Babs (no relation to those stuck-up Windsors down the Mall) has hit the jackpot here. Released from her BBC contract, the ‘national treasure’ can finally afford a wig that looks, oh, about 15% real rather than those hideous acrylic haystacks the game old bird sweated under while tending to her bingo-brained brood in Walford.  

Watch it here

http://tinyurl.com/2g4nwz2 

Littlewoods

In marketing terms, Coleen is now a one word brand in her own right. Serendipitous, should she ever decide, for whatever reason, to leave her husband and kill off  the golden cow that is ‘brand Rooney’. A certain type of woman identifies with Coleen, I’m told, but since I’m  for Mars, I don’t get it. Do women buy a new frock because they like the cut of its cloth, or out of sisterly sympathy for a brand ambassador who happens to be hitched to someone who might have been outplayed by a lame donkey in South Africa but, back in England, allegedly manages to score a hat-trick, playing away from home? Baffling!  Anyway, here’s Col looking chipper enough at Littlewoods boot camp. If the woman has an ounce of sense, she’ll take Nancy Sinatra’s lyrics to heart and boot Shrek into touch. Are the peeps at Littlewoods Roo-ing the day they signed up to a media circus that would see Everton fans taunting an absent Wayne as they broke into an old Bob Marley hit, its lyrics tweaked to 'No woman, no Kai'?

Watch  Coleen here http://tinyurl.com/34rn3ku 

Renault Megane

Can a car change a town? This, not famine, flood or pestilence, is the pressing issue to be addressed by the Menton/ Gisburn Experiment (sounds like something sinister masterminded by Josef Mengele). I’ve never been to Gisburn but it seems like a decent enough place: solid stone cottages; ye olde inn serving Lancashire hot-pot; the comely Ribble Valley on tap; whist AND dominoes int’ village hall. I have been to Menton, however. Bonjour Front National-voting fat toads; hatchet-faced Parisian harpies too grand to pick up their poodles’ poo; flats smaller than my loo for € 850,000 and taking out a mortgage on dinner. I tried a Mégane. Didn’t much fancy that either. Cloth caps; whippets; driving rain and an ’82 Austin Allegro: now, there’s grand! Reportedly, the car manufacturer has raffled a Megane for £6,000 and donated the proceeds to Gisburn's festival hall and playing fields committees. Gisburn may wish to respond in kind by sending Renault  their local delicacy , tripe, in retaliation for these er, offal ads.

http://www.visit4info.com/details.cfm?adid=85522

Glade Touch n Fresh

Should I ring the NSPCC? The thing is, I’m becoming increasingly concerned about the welfare of the small Asian child in this advert. What is his dozy Desperate Housewife of a mother feeding him? Given her plummy Knightsbridge accent, I’m guessing foie gras, quail in aspic and pata negra ham from Harrods. The poor poppet is clearly suffering from an inappropriate diet. Not only are his farts worse than a Doberman’s with diarrhoea, he’s been glued to that toilet seat for what seems like years now and hasn’t grown an inch. ‘It’s all gone. It’s all gone!’ he proclaims. Well flush the bloody loo and open a window, you stunted stinker!

http://www.visit4info.com/advert/Glade-Touch-n-Fresh-All-Gone-Glade-Air-Freshener-Range/38251/2

MFI

MFI’s ads are even more irritating than their rivals’ unfathomable flatpack instruction manuals. A Khmer Rouge throwback lambasts her man for leaving the loo seat up; a virago harangues hers for ironing his trousers too slowly; while a well-lagged bolier berates tubby hubby for chatting up a younger model (can’t  imagine why he would). ‘You’ll feel right at home’ intones voiceover. Would that be one with bars on the windows? For when Serial Mom almost murders teenage daughter for staying out late, it becomes clear these desperate housewives don’t so much need new fitted units as a secure unit and intensive therapy.

NB The company had ceased trading by 19 December 2008 

http://www.visit4info.com/search/index.cfm?display=i&page=2

Dolce and Gabbana Light Blue

A sultry seductress sizzles in a boat set adrift on a Mediterranean lagoon’s light blue waters. Adjusting his barely-there swimsuit, a chiselled Roman living statue moves in for a clinch that will climax in an ecstatic explosion of Vesuvian proportions.....then ‘cut!’ What her Latin love god is not about to slip her, is his CV. Going by the name of David Gandy, this Italian stallion hails from the eternally glamorous Città di Billericay, and got his big break courtesy of Richard And Judy. Readers who fancy getting their hands on Dave’s Strombolis will be pleased to note that he is currently single and lives in Fulham.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVec5J3EqvQ

Skoda Fabia

When they brainstormed this car crash of a commercial, were the creatives at Soho ad agency, Fallon, high on E numbers? Since the one time Czech laughing stock was taken over by the volks at Volkswagen, Skoda has gone from continental joke to offering plenty of poke for your Euro. Bigging up the roomy, reliable supermini’s slick ride, firm grip, quiet engine, fuel economy and overall nippiness was no match for the smart cookies at Fallon’s half baked Big Idea. Set  to Julie Andrew’s sugary meringue, confectioners knock up a repli-car in jam, sponge, syrup and jelly - the sort of gateau any clued-up kid would be humiliated to receive beyond his sixth birthday. Who’d be seen dead in a Skoda now, you fruitcakes?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NwBE1l6QexU

Clover

Clover is churned with love, we’re told, not sloshed around by whopping industrial blades on some sterile production line then? It’s capable of bringing a tear to the eyes of a Billy-No-Mates Mummy’s boy with his baked potato, a soppy Wendy Craig lookalike who seemingly shares a hairdresser with Martina Navratilova, and a lachrymose corn-on-the cob loving family man, who really will have a cob on when he finds out that, if pack statistics are to be believed, Clover may be up to three times as high in saturates and twice as calorific as some cholesterol reducing spreads out there.

http://www.visit4info.com/advert/Clover-We-All-Love-Clover-Clover-Range/29603/2

Kellogg's Crunchy Nut

Have the creatives behind this nutty commercial ever experienced London’s crush hour? Reality check: when a tube train packed tighter than a lorry load of illegal immigrants at Dover docks pulls in to Charing Cross station, it would take something substantially sexier than a Kellogg’s bar to prise the poor sods from their not-fit-to-transport-turnips-in Hell on wheels. They fought like Joe Calzaghe to get in and the next train will be along around the same time as a UKIP government. Besides, only a self harmer would eat anything that had touched a Northern Line platform. If you want that carriage to yourself, mate, try dropping the keys to a brand new Merc with climate control and chauffeur thrown in. http://www.visit4info.com/advert/Kelloggs-Crunchy-Nut-Bars-Packed-Tube-Kelloggs-Crunchy-Nut-Range/45648

Aero Bubbles

Just like himbo Jason Lewis, you spend your days slinking around in the nsemi-nude, stuffing your face wiyth chocolate.  But whereas juicy Jase became Sex in the City body beautiful Smith, you’d need emergency liposuction just to play Mel Smith. But what’s this? AOur office straw poll revelas that women rate this little sweetie’s seduction technique ‘a turn-off’ and ‘as sexy as old Gorgonzola’ - a product the Californian cheesecake would be a natural to advertise? don’t prick the Aero-head’s bubble by telling him the confectionery he’s been hired to embody is described on Nestle’s website s ‘bite-sized balls’. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bc79K_PrKOw

Warburtons

D Listers will eat kangaroo testicles, check into rehab or, in the case of Ssh! you know who, insult an entire sub-continent just to stay in the public eye. They should move to Bolton, where merely producing sliced white bread leads to superstar status. Lancashire bakers Johnathon and Brett Warburton spend their days dodging the sort of Muppets you dread sharing a long train journey with. The company claims to have based its campaign on the film Being John Malkovich - a half baked idea some might say, but I, for one, can’t get their brand out of my loaf.

http://www.visit4info.com/advert/Warburtons-Bakery-Hikers-Warburton-Bakeries/46376

Virgin Media

‘Hi I’m Uma, but my friends call me Uma’ Yes dear, of course they do, since Nigel or Norman wouldn't really suit you. Anyway, we remember you. You wore that rather fetching yellow catsuit. So, you’re available for viewing any time and we can rewind you, speed you up and even ...cue eternal hiatus...pause you? That’s terrific, Ume, for what else will we be doing  now the likes of Lost, 24 and The Simpsons have been pulled from our digital TV package? Kill Bill? We’re thinking your paymaster St Richard of Branson might prefer his favourite Avenger go blow Rupert’s gang Sky high.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tuu8Ui6dfqw

Rimmel

Face of Rimmel London, Kate Moss is sure to attract fashion and celebrity obsessed target customers. Time was when Croydon’s finest could party ‘til she dropped and still come up fresher than a daisy, but since Mossy satrted morphing into Gillian Taylforth (sorry, Gillian)  some of the pics we’ve seen are not so hot as before. ‘Get the London look’ she pouts  - and that would be what? Spotty? Pasty? Puffy? Blotchy? These ads are beginning to get up our noses, Kate.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kz2JfsIMhP8

Quorn 'Chicken'

Middle class Northern Mum introduces her brood to the joys of Quorn - for what’s not to like about cod chicken? - prompting outburst from well-bovvered schoolgirl daughter, an avid Catherine Tate Show viewer, who comes over all proprietorial about her fave fungus-based foodstuff. ‘Touch my food, feel my fork!‘ she snarls at ‘bucket head’ brother - challenging the received wisdom that veggie = tree hugging philanthropist. ‘What am I supposed to eat, now?’ she whinges.  Give the mung bean munching madam a snail and whelk smoothie and tell her she’s not leaving the table until she finishes 

Magners Cider

Memo to lazy ad agencies. What’s so creative about simply ransacking my  vinyl collection for your latest campaign? The rot set in when Levi 501s hijacked Marvin Gaye’s Grapevine -although, based on a recent sighting, the 45 year old Nik Kamen in his boxers might not set so many pulses racing. Listening to Etta James , I’m haunted by those oggling Diet Coke suckers. Now Magner’s are at it: their brew, the toast of what looks like the wrap party for the Irish version of The Apprentice, now indelibly linked withThe Zombies heavenly Time Of The Season. Still, at least the track has been re-released. It deserves to outsell the curiously popular cider by 100: 1.


Hear the Zombies' great song here minus the naff ad!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oc7b62El_fk

Halifax High Interest

‘‘For my audition, Simon, I’m doing Aretha Franklin’s Think’ declares Sheffield Mum Natalie Webster, before being whisked off to South Africa for her (Halifa)X-Factor moment. An all-singing all-dancing ticker tape parade features a cast of thousands with cameos from Howard and some singing gargoyles - whadya mean which one is which? A pair of skunks joins in on cue  ‘If your rate stinks, come in and talk to me.’ Trust me honey, I’ve tried, but the queue at the information desk was so long, I gave up. Halifax are known for featuring their staff in ads, but leaving some behind to man my local branch might have been an idea, don’t you ‘Think?’

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVLpGYlvUyc

Benecol Yoghurt

Combining naturally occuring stanols with rapeseed oil extracts doesn’t exactly sound like rocket science and the brand name - bene (good) c(h)ol(esterol), geddit? - surely took all of ten seconds to come up with, so how come Benecol’s products seem so expensive? Could it be down to a seemingly big budget allegorical represenation of the brand’s claims to block nasty gunk from entering the blood stream? Benecol’s impassive turban-clad disciples suggest some sinister religious sect and wearing the Finnish manufacturer’s naff leisurewear (in Sweden’s national colours) might be enough to bump up anybody’s blood pressure.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EN-UN3KgAbY

RAC Rescue

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPcbCh4jgYA

When Vinnie Jones’s car conks out on a remote rainswept road, the have-a-go hero abandons his wife, impulsively striking out into the wilderness in search of help. In his sodden tux, the hapless hardman seems more Tommy Cooper than James Bond. In a ‘gripping’ freeze frame parody of a Hollywood action movie, the poor lamb is savaged by a flock of sheep, before re-emerging dazed, disorientated and dishevelled to be reunited with his now fixed motor. What the RAC should have been rescuing was agency Abbott Mead Vickers’s clapped out banger of a storyboard.  

Sheila's Wheels

Two outback throwbacks are shocked when screamer Butch Mcguire joins the Sheilas’ choir. Why? Australia has the highest per capita drag queen population in the world. You just know the macho Billy Billabongs are also itching to camp it up in pretty pink sequined gowns to a tacky 1950’s brainworm jingle. I hear the cooing bonzer beauts are not 100% Aussie ‘talent’: one hails from Wales and the (English) brunette is married to a Teletubby in real life. Even the company is pommy - it belongs to Esure, sometime employer of occasional drag fairy Michael Winner. Struth! 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jz8K6FUk5jM

Olay Regenerist

Nadine Baggott (a minor character from a J.R. Tolkien novel?) testifies on behalf of the Pentapeptides: skin rejuvenators that sound more like an American charismatic church. Alas, Penta-pimping Nad has the charisma of a ball of Dutch Edam, which is what her weirdly waxen face brings to mind. A grand fromage on Hello! magazine apparently,  her web site witters on about having ‘ heels like Parmesan rind.’ We're cheesed off with the sight of her, but could the curiously crease and wrinkle-free Baggott brow be solely down to Olay’s dolce latte? 

Iams

‘When I saw Frankie, it was love at first sight’ purrs woman with spray-on smile that suggests she’s been love-bombed by the Moonies. Frankie, it transpires, is the pussy she rescued from cat cage Hell. Now referred to as her ‘furry alarm clock’, Frankie is the sole repository for the sorry singleton’s affections. Listen love! You’re on your tod because you’re deeply dull, your clothes are covered in ginger hairs and your flat smells of old fish and amonium wee. We trust allegations about the brand are untrue, but kitty might care to take a look at  http://www.iamscruelty.com

Gaviscon Cool

Not only is long-suffering dyspeptic traffic cop Jo stuck in a dead end job in horn-honking hold-up Hell, she's forced to wear an outfit better suited to George Michael’s dressing up box.  Her heartburn is the result of ‘a rushed lunch’, yet,  despite clearly working abroad, she insists on nipping back home to Dagenham for her midday meal. We've had such a bellyful of Jo’s body-popping Flashdance routine,  the only ‘Feeling’ we’re getting is akin to chronic indigestion. Gaviscon, Cool? Pass the Pepto Bismol!

watch spoof here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skQKwG_laQE