Somebody was extolling the hilarity of the Cadbury’s gorilla advert yesterday and I had to stop them. I didn’t stop them because I had anything I actually wanted to say to them. I just wanted them to stop talking. Fortunately they did. Because if they didn’t I would quite possibly have ripped their heads off and shat in the gaping, blood-seeping hole that was their neck just to really ram the message home that it is NOT FUNNY!
It’s a soul-less corporate approximation of something ad-hoc and raw dreamt up by some Armani-suited advertising fuck who thinks he’s hit the marketing equivalent of the g-spot.
Even worse, every time that piece of shit is played on TV it generates royalty money for Phil Collins, that irksome, stage-school, smug, talent-free, Tory-supporting wankwipe who already has more cash than he’ll ever need. It also runs the danger that the balding, least-talented member of Genesis may contemplate a comeback if he actually believes he is hip again.
So the next time somebody tells you this advert is cool shoot them. At least two or three times to make sure they can never rise again – or procreate any future idiot oxygen thief children to rob the planet of its much-needed resources. The revolution starts here…
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