Most adverts are shit. Even the ones that are good are still shit because they’re trying to sell you stuff. The ones that really get me riled are the ones that try and move you emotionally and the biggest source of my continual anger is the pathetic, mealy-mouthed dribblings from Vodafone.
Imagine this: Man gets new job as a director of a company. They hold a party in his honour and, just as he stands up to give a ‘thank-you… let’s look forward to the future where we’re all bloody brilliant and one lovely grinning faux-family’ speech, his mewing little daughter who really is old enough to know better rings him up crying about piss-all.
“Oh Daddy! Daddy Waddy! I’m cwying in my motor-car because a nasty man doesn’t want to put up with my constant neediness all the timey-wimey!”
Of course, what the viewer isn’t told is that this passive aggressive horseshit is being undertaken by a now grown-up Veruca Salt who has stopped stamping her feet and demanding golden-geese and realises that she can get much further by sprinkling a little tear down her stupid pink face and dear ol’ spineless shit of a Dad will come running, even if he’s in the middle of something very important.
We can only hope that this Vodafone commercial is part of a series (like the stupid BT ones) and that Part Two sees Daddy Waddy receiving a text from the man who left his blubbing offspring, saying that “I had to leave her. She was driving me mental. Did she tell you that she’s been having it away with a local butcher boy? Peace out and vibes”.
Naturally, this is never going to happen because this idiotic commercial is designed to show us all that Vodafone really care, maaaaaan, and that they see their customers as human beings, complete with functioning tear-ducts and that. Next they’ll be showing someone texting their wife saying “Bad news. The doc said my bonemarrow has cancer. Thank God I’m on Vodafone or this text may never have got thru LOL“.
This saccharine, simpering tripe is so nauseating that it should be issued with a pack of Quells.