Everyone hates advertising. No matter how well-meaning or entertainingly couched it is, it’s annoying. When I’m listening to a podcast I don’t want to hear about how easily I can sign up for a free audiobook or design my own website (which I will probably do in my own good time thank you very much). Pop ups are cancelled at breakneck speed, catchy jingles are skipped through and sandwich boards informing you of incredible deals are splintered to smithereens. At least that’s what people want very much to do.
Obviously people need to make their money through the successful sale of their products. However, the scales have tipped much too far and people are thoroughly sick of the ad men and their tiresome ideas. Of course, every now and then a brilliant campaign comes along but odds are people will remember the advert itself but not the thing they were supposed to head out in their droves to buy.
No matter, soon frustrations such as these will be a relative thing of the past. We can’t outlaw advertising as a whole because how else would people know when the next Apple thing is out? But a healthy compromise has been reached I’m sure you will all be delighted to learn. Advertising in all its forms is to be banned before 9pm. This way impressionable youths won’t be so easily swayed to pick up the next bit of Frozen paraphernalia.
Because few organisations can be trusted to obey this decree, the pharmaceutical industry was appealed to for help. Their boffins managed to come up with a revolutionary medication. Taken every day with breakfast, the tablet in question will transmit ad blocking signals to the brain until it’s naturally broken down by the system by nine pm that evening. It’s a completely brilliant plan, swallow it.
Oh what’s the point in having politicians at all if you don’t get the odd scandal out of it? Sure, that’s pretty much the function of the extended royal family but the Queen dons a fancy hat every now and then in order to open a hospital or something. And sports people and celebrities might behave incredibly badly but they do things like kicking balls and pretending to be other people. Then occasionally they’ll do their actual jobs.
So it’s the politicians we turn to for the proper scandals. Therefore, it’s of the highest importance that we don’t mess too much with the delicate system in place. If you even attempt to subvert the stereotypes then who knows what havoc you might inadvertently wreak? I don’t think it’s melodramatic to say that such an action might rip a whole in the very fabric of our universe.
But someone’s decided that they want to play the game a little differently. They want to get rid of the bullying Tories. It’s patently absurd, they might as well try and eliminate all the righteously indignant left wing types or all the self denying racists on the far right not to mention chucking out the baby with the bathwater (because said infant wasn’t actually born here and has no right to claim our wonderful glorious nationality).
Just stop it. Tories are as they have always been. You have to leave the bullying nut jobs in there so that the others don’t look so bad by comparison. It makes the halfway decent ones seem like white knights in shining armour ready to charge in and save the day. Of course it’s at least half spin and manufactured to get the public to believe whatever but we did choose this system after all. If you’re not happy about it then write to your MP for them to file under minor wibbles to sort out next term in office.
The elemental wizards nominally though secretly in charge of matters on earth are really rather tired of being subtle. Sure, they’ll send along an earthquake every now and again to express their disapproval of all the gay people who insist on getting hitched but a disappointing proportion of folk pick up on their message. Perhaps they should have arranged for a more descriptive rock formation to tumble into the words they wanted to express.
Anyway, they’re done now with hoping for others to be that much quicker on the uptake. The slow burn of global warming isn’t exactly going to get anyone out there to realise that they’re after more sacrificial offerings of ancient scrolls and biscuits with a goodly covering of chocolate. It’s time to get a little more serious when it comes getting their point across.
What they’ve decided they definitely aren’t particularly big fans of is Labour under the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn. Don’t ask them why, it’s just something of an instinct or a gut feeling that he’s simply no good. Either that or it’s been rather a while since they did something spectacular and they feel like shaking things up just a tad. Everyone remembers the eruption of the volcano Vesuvius that swallowed Pompeii and Herculaneum. Wouldn’t a natural disaster as impressive as that be something worth writing home about?
So they’re stepping things up to see if they can try and shuffle the man out of his position of power. It all begins with just a few scattered showers to get the attention of the British. Then it ramps up to biblical levels of downpour, thunder, lightning, the whole nine yards. After which the winds will come to blast and batter our tiny island nation until we expel the current leader of the Labour party from it. If we refuse then just imagine the plagues that will come.
Well it’s very difficult to act as a cohesive political unit when you’re worried about creaky joints and you’re feeling the pain in your very finger bones. That’s their well-polished excuse that they’re very definitely sticking to thank you ever so much. Their feet hurt and that’s precisely why they can’t get any proper work done.
This sudden mood of crippling indecision certainly has absolutely nothing to do with the gossamer web of intrigue and difficult situations holding an increasingly fragile image of peace together. They’re absolutely not trying to sidestep some sticky issues and are really quite offended that you would think that about them. In fact, they’re off to write a letter of complaint about their trampled feelings. This has to take precedence over the whole issue of whether or not we have to go to war with the naughty men stirring up trouble in foreign climes.
It’s all about the troubles that are going on at our own front door. How can we possibly concern ourselves with the plight of millions of refugees in the Middle East when we’ve got something as serious as a vague hip ache going on? A stubbed pinkie toe is obviously a lot more worrisome than any number of explosions going off over there. Unless there are British nationals involved of course. All we see is aftermath on the news and that basically makes it like an action film. Chuck in an orchestra and a plucky protagonist and you’ve got your next blockbuster franchise.
After all, it’s hardly as if there’s anything we’ll be able to do. Sure, we could send over food packages or more guns but will any of those really do much to improve the situation? Especially if there isn’t a fat pay incentive for us. Really, let’s ignore it all until it goes away by having a cup of tea and seeing if there’s anything interesting on telly.
British people really don’t need an added incentive to turn to drink. Its awesome power to smooth out the rough edges and dull the pain is all you need. They lied to you when they informed you that all you needed was love. No, it’s chardonnay. Or quite possibly whisky. Whatever your tipple of choice happens to be.
So when it was announced that happy hour was waving goodbye forevermore no one was all that surprised. Sure, a few hard core drunks put up a token fight. They refused to let their cut price booze without at least some form of resistance. It wasn’t exactly difficult to subdue them, they just had to break out the shiny things and they were easily distracted. However, that was all the actual outcry that occurred.
Now every hour spent at the pub is so much happier. On average. Taking away that special time when the deals come out to play means that every drop of sweet alcohol is savoured that little tiny bit extra more. Or that is the hope at the very least.
Perhaps we’ll revert to the days akin to prohibition when drinking became a fun craze where you got to flout the law and get pissed all at the same time. As well as getting to listen to jazz and being a very cool cat indeed. This is what my time on Wikipedia has taught me anyway. Banning a thing just makes it that bit likelier to happen, just look at drugs.
Now pub landlords will be able to writhe around in the vast amounts of cash earned by the lack of special offers. Because, as we’ve already investigated, nothing will separate us from our intoxicants. They’ll make more profit which will drip down into the general economy and eventually mean that homeless women can have uninhibited access to free tampons. I think that’s what someone slurred at me last night.
Now before you go thinking this is yet another King Herod style ridiculous escalation do stop worrying. The axe is purely metaphorical and I can assure you that the chancellor wouldn’t dare to even dream of using it to behead tiny infants if it was. Probably. Not as a part of his day job anyway. As usual, the axe in question relates to budgetary cuts that absolutely have to be made lest the country dissolve in an acidic bubble of insolvency.
There’s absolutely no way to decide how to do this fairly. They know this because they spent a whole half hour in front of an A3 flip chart trying to come up with schemes and managed to produce precisely zero. It’s hardly as if they could take tax benefits and preferential treatment away from the rich people who have no need for it. That would be insanity of the highest order.
So some arbitrary device had to be brought into existence for picking and choosing who would be shafted by the state. Whilst idly reading poems to his children (it might have happened at some point. He wouldn’t have staff for absolutely everything now would he?), George landed on a belter of an idea.
Saturday’s children are an industrial folk who’ll always put in the effort to achieve their goals. It says so in black and white. Such people are hardly going to be satisfied with getting government handouts for things like education or healthcare. Better not to make those an option at all so as not to offend their principles. As for Sunday’s children, they’ve clearly already got loads of stuff going for them. Being bonny and blithe has been statistically proven to be a hell of an advantage in the workplace so potential employers will be happy to overlook something as piffling as a lack of qualifications. Let the weekday children get benefits. Piece of cake.
When it comes to parental instincts, nothing is good enough for their dear darling children. The first move is always to shield them from that which might have the capacity to hurt them like mercury and vaccines (the internet has rather a lot to answer for when it comes to propagating certain rumours). The other initial step is to provide top of the range equipment.
And you really have to hand it to marketing people for doing their utmost to exploit this well intentioned urge. They’ve introduced toys with more tech than seen in most airline cockpits, pushchairs with rocket engines and much and more besides. So the very latest trend, just in case you haven’t noticed, is ridiculously opulent materials for everyday items.
When they first introduced oral surrogates manufactured from diamond, everyone thought they were mad. But then they got the same people in who convinced folk far and wide that diamonds and diamonds alone would be all that would do for engagement rings. They came up with a bold new campaign that put children at the very heart of matters.
Those raised without a diamond dummy are left perilously at risk of all sorts of conditions no one could have contemplated previously. Weak gums and teeth with absolutely no discernment for quality. And horrors even worse that I simply cannot bear to contemplate. While those who are blessed with generous parents looking out for their wellbeing are skipping about and being totally advanced.
Now the majority is on side that diamond dummies are very definitely the way forward when it comes to constructive parenting. De beers are overwhelmed with job and actively planning the next stage in their domination of life events. I believe they’re already drawing up designs for diamond encrusted coffins and urns. Very tasteful ones of course.