Tag Archives: Advert

Never Knowingly….

There has been much controversy in the British press regarding the new [now very old!] John Lewis ad, which features the actress/glamour model/author/Olympic gold medallist/circus performer/after dinner speaker/one time MP for Wigglesworth and Bendover, Fanny Mountjoy, who died earlier this year. Critics have accused John Lewis of focussing on the lesser aspects of Fanny’s achievements and in the brief summation of her life they have failed to acknowledge Fanny’s greater accomplishments, such as her much loved symphony in D minor – composed on the glockenspiel, and fondly known to all as ‘Lovelace and St Grace’.
Fanny’s family and friends have hit back arguing that this is how Fanny would like to have been remembered; for them Fanny will always be, first and foremost, a wife; mother; mistress and home-maker; as well as a sister; an aunt; a niece; a cousin; a god-daughter; a god-mother; a grandmother; and when occasion demanded, an uncle.
Critics have countered that John Lewis has undermined Fanny’s memory in the public psyche and have been grossly irresponsible to broadcast such a reduced and sentimental account of Fanny’s life.
Fanny’s family and friends have replied claiming that her family life was more significant than her groundbreaking thesis on high wire acrobatics and aerial fire eating, which led to her being shortlisted for a Nobel prize in chemistry.
Critics have gone on to suggest that family and friends wish to downplay some of Fanny’s more dubious activities, such as the night she is reported to have spent with naked activists at the Mini-Mart on Uppersnatch Common demonstrating over the demolition of an ice cream parlour some 200 miles away in Wigglesworth.
Family and friends [namely Richard Wood – third cousin, twice removed] have scoffed at this suggestion saying that her involvement was greatly overplayed and she was merely a bystander, albeit a naked bystander, photographed with an ice cream cone on her head and a sticky flake in her mitts; Richard claims that it was a very warm evening.
Critics are now meeting to decide their next riposte whilst friends and family have adjourned to their comfortable living rooms to await further developments, and to catch up with Britain’s Got Talent.
And so, dear reader, have John Lewis knowingly undersold Fanny Mountjoy? I’ll leave it to you to decide.

Originally published on The Scarlet Blue Archive 2nd June 2011

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….

Soz.

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.