Wednesday, 26 August 2009

The TV Ad Break: An Unforgivable Cuntpit

One word: Jacamo.

"...Whether you're out in the garden validating your lifelong sporting delusions by repeatedly drilling a football at your son's face from point-blank range till he collapses in a bloody and exhausted shit-pasted heap; sexually harassing your female co-workers every time they walk past you on their way to the copier even though you're clearly suffering a major homosexual crisis; or hanging out with your mates, spraying deafening conversational turds across the pub and harping back to a 'better time' when going to the match meant unsolicited attacks on defenseless Asian shopkeepers, adding your bladder's-worth to the seemingly endless confluence of piss that cascaded down death-trap terraces, and being so fucking intoxicated you'd no idea which team you were supposed to be stabbing people in the name of...Jacomo has the perfect classless paunch-tents for your bloated scumbag frame!"

"Ooh, send me your catalogue of glorified pie-bibs immediately, sir."

Forget about actually buying something, if you even know someone who gets their git-garments from Satan's warehouse, drown yourself in the sewers - you're a twat by proxy. It's the white-pride Great Universal. The ultimate in sedentary shopping for gone-to-seed, patently latently bent Neo-Nazis. And if you know one, chances are, you are one.

And the Mein Kampf of cocksucker's couture is just the tip of the boil. I could go on for hours, drawing the puss:

Everyone knows the phrase 'sofa ad' is synonymous with 'justifiable homicide', but throw in some Nickelback and a desperate grandmother thrusting her dessicated sex organs in the camera's direction and you've got yourself a get-out-of-jail-free card for pretty much anything from twocking to annihilating a major European city with outlawed nerve agents. Try it, see if i'm wrong. Then there's car ads, food ads, ads with needlessly sexualized voice-overs, hilarious ads with meerkats and markets, and IT training courses that'll get you nowhere; ads for life insurance that'll never pay out because you neglected to mention a dislocated toe you suffered 24 years before you got pulped beyond recognition in a horrifying motorway pile-up; ads with celebrities you fucking despise, and worse, ones you used to admire; ads for face cream that won't make you look younger but will make up words like 'tri-pentaglycertubes' which miraculously accentuate the brains natural propensity for gullibility with the help of arbitrary and erroneous quasi-scientific animations; ads for shit and crap and dross and plastic things that give everyone cancer and banks that lost your money then repossessed your home but you'll forgive them because their new ad features a litany of oily cock-screws insinuating they're now real people with real emotions because they come to your squalid bedsit and talk about how they're going to fuck you over next time in a comfy tone over a lovely cup your coffee that you paid for, you fucking muppet, i mean, christ, what's the ball-licking fist-fucking point?

On the upside, at least they jettisoned that unbearable fuzzy-haired hyperdick doing his mock stand-up bit at the end of the ad breaks in You Have Been Watching. It was almost enough to put you off tuning in. Well, that and the nagging voice at the back your head that bellowed, "this programme would be so much better if they dispensed with the surplus-to-requirements guests and gave Mr. Brooker the camera's undivided attention for the entire duration of the programme. A bit like, i dunno, Screenwipe.


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