Judge Jon: inane TV-advert trivia and obscura

It's official: Virgin Trains travel slower than horses, according to their new TV advert. The advert features a chap sitting on a train, which then gets chased by Native Americans on horseback. Perhaps not the most politically correct portrayal of Native Americans, particularly given its bizarre strapline along the lines of "Man on big train um heap big idea". But as long-suffering gf pointed out, it clearly shows that people on horseback can outpace Virgin Trains, which is often my experience too...

Returning to cats, here's an advert for a Japanese robocat (looks somewhat more advanced than the one from Sony a few years ago). Hmmm... I suppose it avoids pet hair everywhere, litter trays etc. But has no-one learned anything from "Terror of Mechagodzilla"?

An apple a day keeps the doctor away -- and according to new research, so could a pint of cider. Fancy that, in a study funded by cider manufacturers, just at a time when cider is trying to shrug off its park bench image.

Cider, like red wine, may contain some polyphenolic antioxidants that have health benefits. Research into the health benefits of red wine was prompted by the "French paradox", but somehow I can't see stereotypical cider-drinkers being identified as paragons of long-term health...

Cider, of course, also contains ethanol that the liver turns into acetaldehyde (nasty toxic stuff), en route to converting it to acetic acid thanks to the enzyme acetaldehyde dehydrogenase. Just hope your acetaldehyde dehydrogenase is working ok (and that you don't swamp it with too much acetaldehyde at one go by bingeing), otherwise you're stuck with the acetaldehyde for a while, which makes you feel like crap.

Incidentally, if cider pips are pressed as part of cider making, it will also naturally contain traces of hydrogen cyanide. But you would have to drink such vast quantities that you would suffer respiratory failure from the ethanol before the cyanide became a problem. So hey, I'll have a glass, but no ice in mine, please.

Our ad-related inane topic for the bank holiday weekend is: cats. I'm a cat person myself; in the words of Roger Moore from the 1979 movie North Sea Hijack: "I like cats--and I don't like people who don't", though long-suffering gf is a dog person so I'd better make an exception in her case.

Dogs seem to feature more than cats in TV adverts (e.g. the Andrex puppy), probably for good reason when it comes to working with them. But how about this "herding cats" advert?

While we're doing things cat-related, here's a product that should perhaps be marketed: the cat wheel. And here's one that perhaps shouldn't: the electric wheelchair for cats. Reminds me of Davros and I'm not convinced that moggy has any control over it whatsoever...

Incidentally, Churchill was a cat person and Hitler was a dog person. Perhaps that says something about their respective characters / leadership styles and deserves a Channel Five documentary, "Hitler and Churchill: the pets". Churchill's will stipulates that a ginger cat called Jock must always be kept at his house at Chartwell (the original Jock was on his bed when he died in 1965). Mussolini hated cats but Roosevelt had a six-toed silver tabby called Slippers. So maybe there's something in this WW2-leaders-and-their-pets perspective...

They've only gone and done it. Gillette have produced the five-blade razor, eeriely echoing The Onion's "F*ck everything, we're doing five blades" satire.

In fact, the Gillette Fusion has six blades, five for the main razor and another on the back as a "precision trimmer" for "shaving tricky places (e.g. under the nose)". (Perhaps this is because the main razor is now so damn big with all the blades that it can't get under your nose...).

Being a neanderthal, Judge Jon still scrapes his face with disposable two-blade razors from China that cost 2.7 pence each. Admittedly they do not give as good a shave as the latest from Gillette. But the Fusion and its ilk cost 50x more, yet the shave they give is not 50x better. And what will be next in the razor arms race, I wonder?

George W. Bush explains here about failed terrorist plans to blow up the Nakatomi building in Los Angeles.

"There are some things that money can't buy -- for everything else there's Mastercard" and this advert is priceless.

Given that I seem to have morphed into Chris Tarrant, no compilation would be complete without a bizarre Japanese toilet advert. Are these products aimed at anyone worried about getting germs from touching the toilet seat or the flush? Or is it for very lazy or very busy people? And what do the chicken and the frog have to do with it? Inscrutable... Mind you, I did once live with a medical student who wouldn't touch the toilet seat, despite spending her days cutting up dead bodies for anatomy class.

When did we all start drinking cider with ice cubes in it? Both Magners' and Strongbow's latest TV ads feature this trend. Apparently cider is shedding its "park bench" image and enjoying something of a more sophisticated revival -- an article in today's Daily Telegraph describes how "cider's sparkle is saving British orchards".

In my youth Diamond White was the under-age tipple of choice. At 8.2% alcohol, a couple of bottles were a surefire way to get trollied. (Kids: don't do this at home. Or anywhere else. And certainly not outside my house of an evening). But in the late 1990s cider was displaced by alcopops.

Before the market declined, however, there was a dizzying variety of ciders out there. There was "K" (still available, I think?), which at 8.4% was the strongest you could get (soon followed by Brody from Taunton Cider). Anything above 8.4% would be classified as apple wine for duty purposes. And if Diamond White was king, Diamond Blush was its queen (about 5% and premixed with a splash of blackcurrant juice, hence the "blush"). But not an ice cube in sight: most were swigged out of the bottle like premium lagers.

And don't forget Red Rock cider, which was advertised on TV by Leslie Nielsen of Naked Gun movie fame (and 1956 sci-fi classic "Forbidden Planet") with the strapline "It's not red and there's no rocks in it". Actually I think it did contain rock salt, commonly used by brewers to smooth the taste. Incidentally, Red Rock Cider even has its own Wiki entry here (and I thought *I* had time on my hands...).

How come Judge Jon is so well-versed in cider lore, I hear you ask? Because I used to work in quality control for a well-known cider company at the height of its glory. And yes, I used to have to taste it as part of the job. May sound like a dream job to some, but some mornings you really can't face cider before breakfast, even with ice cubes.

Here's a TV advert for ZaZoo condoms from France, in a similar vein to the "why men shave" advert I posted earlier. Christ, I'm turning into Chris Tarrant here! Don't want to say any more about this one in case I spoil it...

Ah, French advertising always has a certain je ne sais quoi. Actually, je sais exactement... As an impressionable teenager in France on an exchange trip I remember seeing the "Je donnerai ma chemise pour une biere" TV ad while having dinner with my host family. The ad features a nubile lady who does exactly what she says for a beer. None of the French audience batted an eyelid. But I nearly choked on mes haricots verts, not being used to seeing norks on TV at all in the 1980s, let alone in an advert at 8 pm.

All is explained in this TV advert from somewhere overseas. Damn sight better than the usual Gillette adverts we get over here. And on the subject of Gillette, is this a prophetic vision of the future?

Those Halifax singing staff ads. Admittedly they're an easy target, but they annoy the crap out of me. First there was the bottle-bespectacled Howard, who had "character" and became something of a brand mascot. In the words of Halifax Chairman, Lord Stevens:

"...nothing emphasises the importance of the contribution made by our front line colleagues better than the television advert featuring Howard Brown."

Erm, right... so apparently one of the perks of working as a minion for Lord Stevens is that you might end up singing in an advert? The latest ad features several staff posing as an R&B outfit (Big Brothaz?), but it is a pretty laughable concept, to me at least. I'm sorry, but if you were "street" you'd be peddling drugs and pimping hos, rather than advising people about which mortgages to buy.

Still, the ads have won a bunch of industry awards. And the Chartered Institute of Marketing has published a highly entertaining and self-congratulatory case study that you can read here. My oversized brain is particularly baffled by the meaningless graphic (the ordinate axis is not labelled) accompanied by a provocative claim that the campaign "converted at more than 100% efficiency to the target markets of 16-34 ABC1s". How can anything be more than 100% efficient? Have Halifax's advertisers somehow found a solution to the global energy crisis?

Incidentally, Judge Jon is (just) in the 16-34 ABC1 demographic. And I am not converted: I think the ads project a "chav" brand image. Let's face it, the ad campaign is "X-factor" / "Pop idol" / "Stars in their eyes" for Halifax staff and those are chav programmes. So let's keep the karaoke restricted to whatever wine bar Halifax staff let their hair down in on a Friday evening, shall we? And if Lord Stevens wants to motivate his front line staff, perhaps a share in the bonuses he enjoys might be equally effective and less annoying for the rest of us.

A friend has alerted me to the latest Lynx advert, which was shown at half-time during the last England game. You can watch it here. All I'll say is that Lynx certainly understand their target demographic. Perhaps topical given the current debate over lads' mags going on the top shelf, but it is clearly tongue-in-cheek--or at least the friend who brought it to my attention is female and unoffended.

Michael Owen. You have to feel some sympathy for him. Hero of the 5-1 trouncing of Germany in 2001, stretchered off from perhaps his last ever World Cup. And now every time the Asda advert comes on, it evokes different emotions to World Cup enthusiasm. You see, there's Michael still dodging about in the aisles, patting his pocket at the end with an optimistic grin. Will pathos help Asda sell more beer and burgers, or whatever it is people buy from Asda? (Don't ask me, I shop at Waitrose, of course. Or I would if I could.)

Two ad-related factoids to ponder today:

First, there is the ASA (Advertising Standards Agency) ruling that mentioning "ass" once in an advert is fine, but saying it more than once is a shocking sexual reference. WTF I hear you ask? The Renault Megane advert that features Groove Armada's "I see you baby (shakin' that ass)" has two versions. In one the soundtrack only mentions "ass" once, while the other features it several times.

The ASA have ruled that the version with only one "ass" can be shown before the 1930h watershed when kids might be watching. The other version may not. Apparently concern was raised that kids might start singing the song in playgrounds. I would suggest that the esteemed gentlemen of the ASA might like to come round to my gaff any afternoon of the week. The language that they would hear kids using outside would doubtless burn their delicate ears. They are correct, however, that kids are not generally watching TV after 1930h. Round here they are getting smashed on alcopops and TWOCing cars by that time.

On a different note, the new ad for Kellogg's Crunchy Nut Cornflakes features a man riding a wolfhound to get home from work early for a bowl of the snack (I would call it breakfast, but they are clearly trying to convince us to eat it at other times). Perhaps bizarrely, the ad has a subtitle saying "Don't try this with your dog at home" when the man is astride the (presumably CGI) hound. I would say "as if!", but perhaps one should never underestimate the stupidity of the proletariat or their capacity for litigation.

"Hi, I'm Barry Scott". Seldom does a complete stranger inspire such loathing. Perhaps it's his patronisingly overly-familiar demeanour. Or the fact that he displays all the symptoms of ADHD in middle age. But Barry's story is a sad one. His creators wanted the star of the Cillit Bang adverts to become a cult figure. That's "C – U – *L* – T"...

As part of a marketing strategy, "Barry" joined the blogosphere, apparently sharing his musings like the rest of us. And in an attempt to "go viral", "Barry" started posting comments on other people's blogs. Including supposedly heartfelt advice to someone about their dilemma over an estranged parent. But "Barry" is a marketing vehicle. Imagine if "Barry" had signed a book of condolences and you should get the point. After being rumbled, those responsible apologised and "Barry" ne blog plus.

But still out there, doing the rounds, is a "hardcore techno" remix of the Cillit Bang advert that is suspiciously lacking in irony (I'm not going to provide the oxygen of publicity by linking to it). And there are Barry Scott t-shirts, "an exclusive range of products celebrating the cult phenomenon of Barry Scott" (there's the c-word again) that similarly manage to convey the advertising message intact.

I suppose conspiracy-theorists may be wondering whether Judge Jon is the invention of an ad agency designed to relaunch Barry on a viral flightpath. To set your minds at rest, I have googled "I f*cking hate Barry Scott" and been amazed not to find any hits. Ditto for "Barry Scott is a c*nt". Fortunately this post should patch those gaping holes in cyberspace and restore cosmic balance.

Today's ad for contemplation is: Pot Noodle.

I'm mildly amused so far by their new "Fuel of Britain, isn't it" campaign, which features a Welsh pot noodle mine. It's a less naughty direction for Pot Noodle, replacing the "Have you got the Pot Noodle horn?" campaign that prompted 572 complaints to the ASA (not upheld). Before that there was the tagline "The slag of all snacks", which was withdrawn. And who could forget the song in the Pot Noodle "holiday" advert:

"English girl so pale and so lovely
On holiday with your proud man
But secretly he is bored with you
He wants it dirty, filthy and more rude etc etc"

Anyway, the "Fuel of Britain" campaign has a budget of 10 million quid! That may seem like a lot of Pot Noodle, but we spend £95 million on the snack each year. The new ads, however, are aiming beyond the core market of 18-24 year-old males who can't cook for sh*t to convince the rest of us that Pot Noodle is now marvellously nutritious stuff. Quite a challenge, methinks, but good luck to the noodle-peddlars.

What is it with bossy women on TV? Life coaches, nannies, dog trainers, diet doctors, house doctors... I'm not knocking assertive women (long-suffering gf certainly qualifies), but it looks like TV producers are exploiting a certain stereotype for ratings. Ok, this is a totally tangential digression, mea culpa, but let's review the evidence.

First up there's Supernanny, Jo Frost. I like her show, as it gives parents sensible advice on how to keep brats from running their lives. Sure, kids are very important members of the family, but they need to realise they are part of that team. Jo Frost doesn't actually qualify as bossy--she is strict but fair. But I'll bet there is a male Jo Frost fanclub out there who admires her for qualities other than her sound parenting advice.

Then there is Victoria Stilwell in "It's me or the dog". The show has lots of useful tips for maintaining pack order in a household. And not only does Ms Stilwell bring the errant mutts to heel, but often their hapless owners as well. With her penchant for black leather and spiked heels (just look at this promotional photo), she does seem to enjoy giving the impression that she may also be somewhat strict in the bedroom.

We'll pass over House Doctor (bossy American), "You are what you eat" (lady scarily obsessed with examining poo) and Yolande Beckles, self-styled "educational motivator" (=supernanny) for difficult teenagers, who fails to qualify as bossy, strict or effective. Let's end today's diatribe with Sarah Beeny's Streets Ahead, in which residents are made to transform the appearance of their houses to standardise the look of the street, "for the good of the community".

Although she does not wear kinky boots or give the impression of having a wardrobe full of whips, Ms Beeny is the scariest of them all--she is the Albert Speer of suburbia. No, you cannot paint your house any colour you like. It must be one of the colours approved for the neighbourhood. And when the work transforming the street is done, you get the impression that the residents are expected to hold a torchlit rally. Now call me asocial, but I don't want my home to look like everyone else's. It is my castle. If I could, I would equip it with moat, drawbridge and vats of boiling oil to repel unwanted visitors trying to convince me to switch electricity suppliers.

What's a Starfleet captain to do after being turfed out of the big chair? Well, first up we have William Shatner advertising Kellogg's All Bran breakfast cereal (and All Bran bars), of all things. And now Patrick Stewart is advertising Argos (a chavtastic catalogue shop, for anyone unfamiliar) and Domestos 5x detergent (John Malkovich, no less, provides the other voice in the advert).

What next? Capt Janeway advertising sanitary products? "When you're battling the Borg, the last thing you want to worry about is your period..."

A few more car ads to consider. Why so many car ads? I suppose that because (thankfully) we don't have many TV adverts selling us houses (apart from Jack Nicklaus and his damn Polaris World), a car is probably the next biggest purchase we ever make.

How about the new Ford Focus ST advert, built on the premise of "What did you want to be when you grew up?" (click here to see it). Nicely done with an economy of slogans, absence of jingles.

There seems to be something of a debate in car advertising over whether we want cars that recapture the dreams of our youth a la Focus ST, or something that makes us feel grown up. Peugeot are in the other camp with their "Playtime is over" ad for the 407 SW, the idea being that unlike the other vehicles on the road, the 407 is not a toy. Maybe I'm in the wrong demographic, but when I drive my car I want to feel like I'm taking part in the Italian Job, not operating a photocopier. Renault recognised this with their Modus ad that had the strapline "Grow up--what for?". And there's the Vauxhall Corsa ad where the cars are playing hide-and-seek.

While we're doing Renaults, their latest ad for the Megane can't seem get past the fact that it has an odd-looking rear-end, so they're still trying to make a feature of it. Reminds me of the movie where the inmates of an asylum form an "honest" advertising agency that produces the strapline "Volvos: they're boxy, but safe"...

Another gem of story-telling in miniature. Girl takes new boyfriend to meet her Mum, but rather than being pleased that they get on well, worries that they might be getting on a bit too well, now that Mum has contact lenses (click here to see it).

It uses 14 shots in 30 seconds, has 7 lines of dialogue and only mentions the brand once. As Sam Delaney at the Guardian put it:

What's astonishing about it? The fact that 80% of what's being said is communicated not by moronic jingles, insulting slogans or Jamie Oliver's Argyle sweater, but instead by smart writing and understated acting.

Click here for the rest of Sam's review.