Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Christmas sniveling
Being ill at work doesn’t bring much in the way of benefits. I have shredded my nose with cheap bog roll from the bathroom in a vain attempt to stem the streaming flow of germs. I’d have probably been better off applying a cheese grater to my schnoz, as at least I’d have enjoyed the heady scent of cheddar whilst wrecking my sniffer. It’s like the mouth of the river Ganges, with my nose forming a silt lined delta of snotters. Staring at a PC screen for hours a day is doing nothing to alleviate a rather impressive headache. I feel like that gangster from Casino that had his head inserted in a vice, sans eye popping and grassing up a pal. The Christmas music playing consistently terrible tunes is doing nothing for my grumpy demeanour, except from when the Grinch comes on and I can sing along with my Christmas hating compatriot in a cackling, witchy tone that’s thick with the antiseptic funk of Stepsils. I’m not having fun.
Still, it’s the way it goes at this time of year. The bacterial infections, viral nasties and stomach upsets are doing the rounds without discriminating against anyone. The doctor’s surgery has been no help, as trying to get past the bitchtastic harpies that man the reception desk takes more energy than keeping yourself alive. They truly are the least helpful and most infuriating of all the people that are supposed to provide aid and support (beating BT call centre assistants hands down). When I walked into the surgery I swear I saw one woman’s eyes glow with a red hue and burn a hole in a haemorrhoid prevention poster behind me on the pinboard.
After standing in a gargantuan queue for about ten minutes I finally managed to try and book an appointment. Of course, I wasn’t able to negotiate the reception etiquette gauntlet in order to see a doctor, due to the fact that surgery staff members were fully booked, on a lunch break, having a team motivational meeting, drinking cups of tea or sitting with their heads inserted up their arses.
I have decided just to sweat, sneeze and snuffle it out. Anything’s better than trying to bargain with a receptionist to secure a visit with the doctor, just to be told that I have a virus and there’s nothing I can do anyway except be grumpy at work and moan about being under the weather on my blog.
Oh. One more thing in order for this post to have a tenuous link to advertising, I will be sure to CATCH IT, BIN IT, KILL IT.
Thursday, 10 December 2009
Onlinefoliophobia

I don't like posting my creative work and ideas online much. Mostly, it’s a reaction thing. I like to show my book to people and watch their facial expressions and listen to their tone when they comment on the work. It reveals a lot. Seeing how others perceive work is enlightening, whether it’s a dismissive flick through a campaign or deep, furrowed brows and a hand resting on a chin in thought.
I like to listen to feedback and try to assimilate creative directors’ advice. I like to hear commentary and mumbles and laughter and groans. I like to gauge reactions from agency to agency. In short, I like to try and see what folk feel about my stuff.
You can’t do that with an online book.
It might be time to overturn this odd phobia of mine, though. I know how useful an online book is. I know it can be a great tool.
Watch this space. Maybe.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Rare long copy ad spotted in its natural habitat
Its natural habitat being the weekend mags, where you can leisurely peruse various vacuous editorial sections discussing wrinkle creams made from sheep placenta, read about the latest talentless celebs and the contents of their handbags, and marvel at the previously neglected merits of the scarf (it keeps your neck ever so warm, dahling).Anyway, the ad.
You might need to click on the image to read the copy if you've not got bionic eyes, but my, I think it's well done. When you read it you get this sense of urgency coupled with faultless expertise from a mother that could be one of millions across Britain. It's very funny too - I especially like the quiet dig at the lazy husband.
Whether or not people have the patience to read an ad like this is debatable, but it's a ballsy move to squeeze in so much and its unusual to see a long copy ad done so well. Nicely art directed, too. Lovely stuff indeed.
Read more gushing from me over a previous B2B Ford press ad here.
Monday, 7 December 2009
Gift advert manages to avoid being an Xmas turkey
That's a really rather lovely print ad. I am particularly fond of it because it doesn't mention Christmas anywhere at all - it's not hinted at, nudged towards or referenced in any way. Thank you. If I see another ad shoving Christmas gluttony down my throat I may very well be sick (that means you Ocean Terminal, Princes Mall, Livingston Designer Outlet, Buchanan Galleries et cetera with all your shopping centre TV ad fodder. When will you realise you are ALL THE SAME AND YOU RUIN MY AD BREAKS DURING CORRIE?!).
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
The fickle nature of opportunity
What did you want to be when you were a youngster? I wanted to be a farmer. I had a whole animal inventory prepared, my wellie boots chosen and dungarees earmarked. My short lived love of agriculture blossomed when I lived next to a farm until I was about eight years old. However, it all came crashing down to reality when I was introduced to one of the farm hands… that didn’t have a hand. He’d lost it in a tractor, or a combine harvester, or some such piece of appendage-munching machinery. I soberly decided I liked my ability to grasp items more than making hay bales so that was the end of that.
I wonder if this young student understands how lucky they are to have an idea in their head of where they want to end up, because for me that’s a priceless opportunity that I wish I had when I was their age. Knowing what you want to do with your life is an elusive thing, so once you have it figured out you should hold on with both hands (or one in the case of the farm worker) and never let go.
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
Potatoes
I am absolutely convinced that there are no elements of mass food processing procedures utilised in the actual making of said tattie delicacies. I have it from the oven glove mitted machine itself that only love, affection and gratuitous amounts of encouragement go into making McCain's products as wholesome as they are. Advertising doesn't lie about things like that.
I'd just say that the press reminds me of the Newhaven Border Biscuits campaign from 2007. Anyone remember that? I can't find an example of it. Anyway.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Garcon, fetch me a bottle of your finest foot wine!

Flash (ah ah), master of the cleaning universe
Unfortunately, this post isn't about Flash Gordon or Ming the Merciless or red spandex or Queen or campness in all its glory. I've got a dog in sunglasses for you.I did, however, manage to retrieve this full pager from said supermarket glossy and I quite like it. Idea, one line of copy, pack shot, job done. It's clean and tidy, like ads ought to be (says the writer without an iota of ability for decent art direction).
Monday, 23 November 2009
Tweet twoooooo
He might have a bit of a point. I’ve been endlessly trawling Twitter to try and neb on the Scottish ad scene, but bar The Drum and Leith , there doesn’t seem to be much Scottish ad related chat going on. Anywhere. Interestingly, the design agencies are all over Twitter like a rash, as are the digital folks (obviously), but ad guys seem to be thin on the ground. I wonder why this is.
As Twitter is now my new friend, I might even add an app to this blog to be in keeping with all that is trendy and in vogue and whatnot. I know I’m rather behind with bandwagon hopping, but better late than never. If you’re interested in my 140 character drivels, I tweet under the sobriquet crabbitcopy. I’m that imaginative.
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
I always thought Scarlett had a lot of spunk

Please note the apparent stains on either side of the double page spread were not caused by perspiring palms. I accidentally knocked a glass of water over the Sunday mags. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
If you find all this nonsense amusing, have a look at this PS3 ad saturated in innuendo from a while back.
You really can use women and dick metaphors to sell pretty much anything. The next time I see a press ad for a pearl necklace or a facial I'll be disappointed if there's not a blatant jizz reference or wink towards ejaculation included in the hard sell seeing as creatives and clients would appear to love jerking off so much.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Christmas ads
Can’t folk be happy with getting some days off work for a religious holiday when the majority of them don’t even believe in the Nativity? That seems like a good deal to me – get paid to sit at home and watch Labyrinth/The Goonies/A Muppet Christmas Carol for the tenth time, be around your family for some quality time together and help those less fortunate than ourselves.
(Un)fortunately, I am unable to continue this miserable Christmas hating rant. I must return to my job of selling festive events and fabulous gift ideas to people.
Thursday, 12 November 2009
New Erskine ad by the Bridge
This is by far the most thought provoking execution from the campaign yet. It knocked me for six when I saw it, making me feel sad, guilty, pitying and thankful for my life all at once. A strange combination of emotions, I know, but the ad made me think about how I take things for granted. Here's these poor souls putting their lives on the line for their country while the rest of the country is more interested in the X Factor and Cheryl Cole's fashion choices. There's got to be something not quite right about this society when over 3000 people make a complaint about a stupid talent show rather complain to Gordon Brown about the Afghanistan war.Anyway, I digress. My liberal sensibilities slipped out there, oops! Hopefully other people have experienced similar reactions to me after seeing the above ad and their emotions will bring forth some donations for the charity.
See some other examples from the Bridge's campaign here.


