The poll (results to the right) of the week was inspired by an anecdote I heard recently.

One night, before they were due to go on stage, Led Zeppelin were bored. To pass the time the drummer, legendary booze dustbin John Bonham, decided to see how many bananas he could eat. He managed 27, went on stage and passed out.

With that in mind, whoever of you believed they could manage 30, I will happily pay for those bananas if you let me watch.

Also, I think it would be kind of fun to have a competition along these lines. If anyone fancies having a go, drop me an email and we’ll make a time to eat bananas.

The other thing that you probably thought I’d forgotten about was that Creative Director of the Year thingie I posted a couple of weeks ago.

Well, there was a range of nominations that included Davidson/Papworth, Waites/Saville, Collins, Gill and Beattie (and one for ‘The Client’), but almost all the votes were cast for Jeremy Craigen and Dave Droga.

I did weight Dave’s slightly because this blog is UK-centric and I only know one person who actually works for him, but even so he did very well (there may also have been an element of the FHM 100 sexiest women factor at work: if a trashy cast member of Hollyoaks has done a ‘spread’ in the magazine just before the votes are cast then they will shoot up the rankings. Likewise, if a CD has just been responsible for two Black Pencils then that may be the advertising equivalent of the thumb hooked suggestively in the waistband of the g-string.)

So when I get around to it, that’s going to be the poll of the week: Jeremy or Dave. And don’t forget: you’re both winners. It’s just that one of you has to be deemed a little bit more of a winner than the other.

Well shot and full of great touches (I especially liked him walking over the subway steps) that brought to mind a mini-Hitchcockian paranoid dystopia.

Dunno if I buy the Barclays shit at the end, but I don’t really care: there’s no chance I’m leaving HSBC anyway.

Not the best, not the worst.

UPDATE: I dashed the above off quickly so I didn’t explain that it’s not the best because it’s difficult to reach the heights of Touch, Pinata and Sour, and it’s not the worst because Skittles has been a bit patchy of late, but this is definitely a step back in the right direction.

It’s not the billboard I object to.

It’s that caption at the end which suggests that there were no deaths on the roads in that part of NZ because of the billboard.

It’s like a caption coming up at the end of The Big Schlep that says ‘Later that year, Barack Obama was voted President of The United States of America’.

Actually, if that caption came at the end of TBS, you’d think it was somewhat tongue in cheek.

Unlike the NZ one.

I can’t remember if I did a post about this in the former location of this blog, but if I can’t remember, hopefully none of you can either.

There are some creatives who don’t mind that certain ads don’t entirely make sense, then there are others (myself included) who act like Kathy Bates in Misery when she’s going on off on one about the false endings of movie serials.

BUT WHY IS THERE A CHOIR MAKING NOISES LIKE A HONDA? WHAT DOES IT COOK-A-DOODIE MEAN? AND IT CAN’T BE ANYTHING LIKE ‘HONDAS ARE SO NATURAL THEY MAKE NOISES THAT PEOPLE CAN REPLICATE’ BECAUSE THE CHOIR MAKES THE NOISE OF RAIN LANDING ON THE WINDSCREEN AND THAT’S THE SAME FOR EVERY SINGLE COCK-A-DOODIE CAR IN THE WHOLE COCK-A-DOODIE WORLD!

Those people are called the Logic Police.

They (we) do tend to be the rain on some otherwise quite contented parades, but when these ads have to pass through such enormous and anal approval processes, I think it’s a reasonable question to ask why they don’t make sense. (Why no one seems to care that they don’t make sense once they’ve aired, therefore proving the people who approved the ads absolutely right, is another question entirely.)

On one side of things, as I hope I’ve proved with the above rant, being part of the Logic Police is like pissing in a very strong breeze: nobody cares that you’ve done it and you end up looking like a twat. But I like things to make some sort of sense, so fuck you if you don’t.

The exception is the kind of ad that has no real intention of making sense, yet is wonderful for that very reason:

These are above the Logic Police because they actually obey the logic that they have created for themselves. There are things that Flat Eric would and wouldn’t do, even if they are many miles from the things that I would would and wouldn’t do, so that’s fine.

But it’s the ads that have flaws through which you can drive a tank that annoy me, even if I like the other aspects of them.

For instance, 99.9% of the people who watched this ad would have done so on a non-Sony Bravia TV and therefore would not be able to appreciate how it has colour like no other. The other 0.1% of the population already own the product being advertised, rendering the ad somewhat pointless.

But nobody really cared.

I don’t know why I care.

It’s all pretty sad, really.

Sorry.

(Thanks, G.)

Must be something in the air.

Anyway, I kind of like this because it’s fun and I was getting bored of the other Pimm’s guy.

Then I’m less keen because it features the age-old anthropomorphising of inanimate objects that was seriously dated in 2002, after the same agency made this ad:

Ah, they don’t make ’em like that anymore.

Or rather they do! Geddit?!!!???

…Because it’s different, positive without being cheesy, well-shot, very re-watchable and makes you feel quite nice about the idea of drinking fizzy piss.

Parts of it remind me of this:

(By the way, I’m quite thick. I first saw the Star Guitar video in a hotel room in Rome and didn’t get the whole ‘beats as the things through the window’ thing. I just thought Michel Gondry and the Chemical Brothers had broken with tradition and made the dullest promo ever. See? Quite thick.)

Is it adorably charming or Satan-jumping-out-of-the-loo-while-you’re-taking-a-dump fucking creepy?

You decide:

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

UPDATE: Sorry, just to clarify, I’m so bored of Lance. He’s a real hero, I’ve read the autobiography, I have nothing but respect for his resilience in the face of cancer, but could he by any chance shut the fuck up about it? Especially when his thoughts are being translated by Hank. P. Nike-Copywriter who seems to think that same old platitudinous dog toss is like the finest work of Dylan Thomas as long as it’s broken up into small sentences and read like someone really needs a shit.