Monday, 22 April 2013

Advertising needs an injection of balls



My fellow marketing professionals, it's been too long since I last blogged. It's been a very, very long time. The last time I launched a Truth Missile from my Insight Bunker here at IATC, cars only came in black and Martin Sorrell wasn't a money-grubbing Dickensian factory owner.

Or something. I don't fucking know. It was ages ago. Look at the date of the last post if it's that fucking important to you, dickspot. Jesus! What IS your fucking problem?

Anyway, I thought I'd break my silence to share a speech I recently gave at a marketing conference in Bogata.

Or was it Prague?

No! Wait. It was Leicester.

No matter - this is what I said at the crowd, many of whom came not knowing how to solve the problems of the advertising world. They certainly didn't leave in any doubt, however.



ADVERTISING NEEDS AN INJECTION OF BALLS.

A vision, by David Knockles, Marketing Director.


My friends, fellow marketing professionals, colleagues, esteemed guests and, I suppose, people from agencies - I have something to say.

ADVERTISING'S BALLS HAVE FALLEN OFF.

Remember when  advertising had huge, swollen, pendulous balls? Like a couple of watermelons in a carrier bag, yeah? Hanging proud, full, engorged with the frothing seed of inspiration?

Those days have gone. The days of the Smash robots, 'Follow the bear' and 'Um-Bongo, Um-Bongo, they drink it in the Congo', it pains me to say, are no more.

(Incidentally, you'll notice I left out the Guinness 'horses' ad from my roll-call of genius. It's widely accepted that it's the best ad of all time. It isn't. It's a pile of donkey spunk. Horses, as everyone knows, don't like water - and they certainly don't like Guinness, as I found out on a trip to Ireland in 2001 that ended in a brief jail sentence and a mandatory contribution to an equine welfare charity.)

The days when an agency would develop an idea based on little more than a week's sustained drinking and a jingle written by a failed composer and part-time drag act, we have to admit, are OVER. They are gone.

Why?

Data.

Data is a giant, swinging scythe, tearing into advertising's once massive danglebag, shearing off the mighty power-knackers that made things like this possible.

Data is the red hot button topic of the moment. It's the mot du jour. (That means 'dish of the day'.)

But what is 'data', in this context?

We know that 'Data' is / was a character in a Star Trek thing. He had a very white face and no emotions, so he was sort of like a KKK Spock.

I'm not talking about that Data.

In advertising, 'data' means information that your computer or mobile device sends back to Google, where the internet lives, about how much porn you watch, how much Viagra you order at a very reasonable price from a bloke in Turkey and how many times you look at the Facebook page of a woman YOU ARE NOT FUCKING OBSESSED WITH, OKAY, BUT WHY DID SHE LEAVE?

Google, who own the internet, takes all this data and makes a spreadsheet. It's the world's biggest spreadsheet because it has every living person's name on it, and every single piece of digital information associated with each one - so the thing must be fucking gargantuan. Like, probably, you'd need to print it out on A3 or something. It's fucking GIANT.

Obviously, this information is highly valuable. With it, advertisers can target their audience with extreme accuracy. For instance, I'm served with a lot of ads for haemorrhoid treatment.

But what has been left out of the advertising in this data-age of data is advertising's scrobble-haired meat-plums.

The advertising itself might be targeted at the right people, but it's about as interesting and dangerous as Michael fucking Buble. What advertising needs is a massive injection of balls.

How do we administer an injection of balls? Simple. STOP THINKING ABOUT EVERYTHING SO MUCH.

Don't 'research'. Don't 'consider'. Just do it, as Adidas would say. Do you think anybody actually thought about the Bisto family? Of course they fucking didn't - THEY WERE A BUNCH OF TEDIOUS CUNT-SHOTS. Which is why the nation loved them, of course.

Did anyone really think about Coca Cola ads? No! They just did them! Same goes for every single beer commecial made before 1993 (when the internet was invented). Think about it? They were too busy interrogating the product until they couldn't walk. They'd sit in the office drinking gallons of product until one of them would say, 'Why don't we say something like, 'Probably the best beer ever or whatever'? Then someone like me would step in and refine it until it became 'Carlsberg. Probably the best beer in the world.'

No thinking. Just advertising. No brains. Just balls.

Think about it.

Only don't.

Thank you.



I hope you've learned something. Because if you haven't, there's no fucking hope for you. Now stop thinking and start advertising - just like me. I don't think about a single fucking thing.

Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!


4 comments:

  1. "mot du jour" means "word of the day". "Dish of the day" is "Plat du jour".

    A French friend.

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