It is babysitting time at the moment.
Babysitting is one of those things that seems to be expected of Grandads for some reason. I don’t mind too much, as Puppychild isn’t a bad poker player for five, and we had a good session last night. I managed to win €20 which is better than a kick in the arse?
This morning, after doing her homework [the manufacture of explosives and poisons from common household items], she asked to watch television.
By now, you must be aware that advertisements are not my favourite form of broadcasting. By their nature, they are repetitive and boring. Some can be just plain irritating, and others have the capacity to provoke instant rage. The advertisements that were on children’s television this morning where around 10 on the cardiac scale.
For some very strange reason, the majority of the advertisements were for insurance. Out of each slot of say eight advertisements, four would would be for insurance. I am a little surprised that the insurance industry should think that five year olds are so interested in their product and can only assume that the campaign is directed at the parents/minders/babysitters, who must be very accident prone and therefore unsuitable for the job?. The agencies seems to have a particular mental block too, when it comes to insurance. I have always hated that fucking cheery thing with the toy red phone beeping around the place, but my greatest desire is grab that fucking dog Churchill and douse him in petrol. Then we’ll see him go woof. Ohhh yes!
There was even a Christmas ad that kept cropping up. Yes – Christmas! The bastards are already advertising for Christmas 2010, Fucking hell!
The art of advertising is almost dead, but occasionally one good one does crop up. I found this one on Going like Sixty. I’m sure he will
be furious at won’t mind my borrowing it.
Now that is how it should be done.