Tag Archives: Advert

Until…. [Part 2]

….I went rummaging through my old blog looking for an old advert post for mascara when I found this instead, from 2009. Shocked!!! Did I really write such things??? I’m not even sure if I should republish this…..but I am going to because this blog has been far too gloomy lately, and this is a different spin on toothache.

This is possibly one of my worst posts, EVER. From HERE

Cathy is not a dentist [she states this quite clearly]. She has spent the last 4 months detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure in Holloway as punishment for making films featuring scenes of torture and abuse; she is now unemployed but enjoys dressing up as an air hostess. Cathy has toothache, and an oral fetish; she has now broken into the dental surgery to polish some instruments. Mr Davis [the real dentist] is startled to find her in his surgery handling his scarifying tool, and a tube of toothpaste, but he is impressed by her tonguing action, and he has a professional interest in her misshapen mandibles. Because of his attention, Cathy gets a little overexcited and flashes her Crest. In a fit of wild abandon Cathy slips and knocks out her front tooth on the narcosis apparatus. She is crestfallen. Mr Davis ushers her into his black leather chair for a thorough examination. Cathy sighs as she feels him in her mouth – she is in her element, she begins to froth and lets him poke around until he fills her all of her cavities….


Each and Every Day

Dove Chocolate 'Each & Every Day' from Luc Job on Vimeo.

I seldom speak of the day when I woke up in Paris, and decided to live my life within a 24 hour timeframe. Friends and family considered the idea to be ill-conceived, and my chosen attire too flimsy for November, but they didn’t have my vision, or a swanky teal dress from Rhyll.

It was fun to be a child again, eating chocolate for breakfast, wearing white plimsols, and traversing the streets on my skateboard. Gone were my worries, gone was the weight of responsibility. I no longer had any baggage, or a wardrobe, or a toaster for that matter, and I was determined to cling to this feeling of freedom, at least until lunchtime.

At 1pm I was a teenager, and in the spirit of youthful rebellion I cut my fringe without a ruler; threw darts at an innocent gentleman in the hope of causing a romantic incursion; flirted with a riot policeman called Tom; and then finally, as the afternoon drew to a close, I pranced precariously on a balustrade with Dick. Strewn in my wake were broken hearts, chocolate favours, and a trail of twinkling wrappers spinning through the air like confetti from a shotgun wedding. I shall not mention Harry.

At the age of 69 I caught the night bus home. My hair was streaked with silver and my skin was crying out for a good moisturiser – possibly something from Estee Lauder, failing that, Nivea would do. At the age of 87 I collapsed into bed exhausted; I was also a little bit forgetful, and free from teeth. I sucked on my last chocolate and with the realisation that life is very short I resolved that from then on I would live each day as if it’s the only one. I mean, who needs a toaster/wardrobe/good shoes/a hairdresser/or a high fibre diet anyway?

Apologies. I began writing this post way, way back in May 2019 and since then the Youtube has become unavailable. Please click on the Vimeo link to view the film of my antics. I thank you.