Tuesday 6 October 2009

Pet Peeve #10


Unconvincing Swearing

Yesterday, an otherwise upset-free trip to Sainsbury's was tainted by some textbook unconvincing swearing. I can be a pretty big fan of swearing; but only when it's employed by someone who knows what they're playing at. Unfortunately, it was amateur's night in the biscuit aisle of New Cross Sainsbury's yesterday evening. Whilst contemplating the delicious Taste the Difference range of cookies on offer, my decision making process was abruptly curtailed by a Peruvian hat wearing Goldsmith's student :

"Come on Guy, we can't afford Hobnobs. Lets just get a fuck off box of Basics cereal. It will last us for ages."

Woah! Did she just drop the F-Bomb? This crude attempt to pass off being a tight arse as rock n roll had thrown me. It is going to take more than an inappropriate 'fuck' to generate enthusiasm for the of joyless thrift that forbids the purchase of Hobnobs. Not that I had much sympathy with young 'Guy' either. He crumbled immediately, and like a freshly walloped 4-year old, promptly placed the Hobnobs back on the shelf. I'm sure the rest of their shop was littered with similar exchanges:

"Fuck Andrex! You can get a fuckload of the cheap stuff for half the price!"

"Why are you getting Heinz you dick. Check out the cracked-out prices on the own brand shit."

"Oh my cunt. You can buy toothpaste for 10p!"


The unnecessary "fuck" generated in me the same emotions as when I encounter a guitar playing Christian. I once saw a scruffy haired, open-collared vicar/ponce type do an acoustic cover of Kool and the Gang's 'Get down on it'. This number was part of an impromptu 'set' that formed an integral part of the service at a now estranged cousin's wedding. That day I realised that guitars had no place inside a church, even if the church in question was a recently converted Plumbase.

Here's how it should be done:

Monday 5 October 2009

Eggs Bruv


Apologies for the lack of updates over the last few weeks, but as mentioned in one my previous posts, a spike in my workload and the introduction of a new desk mate in the shape of 'Alp', have severely limited my opportunities to post. Fortunately my workload is beginning to tail off, and Alp has enrolled for a stint in the Cypriot national service. What a guy! Sturdy, reliable Alp has been a revelation since his arrival. His seemingly infinite line of dad jokes, whilst resolutely unfunny, are still mysteriously comforting. The only downside of his presence is the distinct possibility that my hairline will begin to synchronise with that of follically challenged Alp (LIKE PERIODS). If this happens and I end up bald, then I will be modelling myself on everyone's favourite celebrity slaphead: Richard O'Brien. Both nimble and highly intelligent - he wears his baldness like a medal of honour.

The picture above is an example of British Rail's recent campaign to get the youth of the day excited about rail travel. A series of adverts based on film posters have cropped up in train stations around London. Getting on the 8.08 to South Norwood is pretty much the antithesis of starring in a Hollywood blockbuster, so rather than encouraging the uptake of Young Person Railcards, they just exacerbate the persistent malaise that accompanies the daily commute. As you can see, the posters are jarringly shoddy approximations of real films. I think the poster above is meant to allude to the Terminator movies, but I don't remember Arnold Schwarzenegger portraying the disgruntled, goggle-wearing mechanic from Basingstoke who is depicted here.

By far the worst offender of these adverts is the "Dude where's your Railcard" number featuring some berk with an emo hardrock haircut shouting "Dude, where's your railcard?" whilst giving it the 'Big L'. I'm starting to resent being called a loser every morning by this prick:

"Dude, Where's your railcard?"

"I don't have one. Does that make me a loser? I know I never planned to go into admin on a full-time basis. BUT IT PAYS THE BILLS."

"Forget the job buddy, only squares work 9 to 5. Me and Brad are going surfing, why don't you come with."

"It's not that simple, I can't just drop everything mate, I have a job. Also, why do I need a railcard. Can't I just ride with you guys in the camper van?"

"Sorry, not enough room."

"But there's loads of room."


This conversation continues until I am forcibly moved on by a burly member of the Southeastern workforce.

The railcard campaign is one of the more patronising, ill-advised youth targeted advertising campaigns in recent times. But it's not a patch on the Lion eggs campaign from a few years back, which attempted to convince the world that hip hop loving teens get mad hyped over eggs. There was a TV advert where an ethnically diverse group of lads burst into the kitchen, flick on Kiss FM and start debating what they are going to have for lunch. It is never explained what they have been doing to build up such an appetite (presumably something suitably urban, such as breakdancing or gangrape). I have been unable to find a video of this advert online, but below is a paraphrased transcript of the discussion that leads to the group decision to lunch on eggs:

Boy 1: " This is a tune mate!"

Boy 2: "Get me, I'm hungry though, still."

Boy 3: "You reading my mind bruv! You got any ham up in this bitch?"

Boy 1: "Ham? Are you gay?

Boy 2: "Get me! Ham is a dickhead munch."

Boy 3: "I'm sorry."

Boy 1 reaches into cupboard and excitedly discovers a 6 pack of eggs.

Boy 2: Braaapp Braaapp! Eggs in da house!

Boy 3 mimes a whisking motion (presumably to denote the omelette-making process)

Advert ends.

If anyone can get hold of this footage then you will receive a truly spectacular egg-related prize.

Youth orientated advertising wasn't always this ill-advised. See below for an example of how it should be done: