The cheapest ad ever made? The ‘music’, possibly recorded in the canteen of the Malta Tourist board, sounds a bit like ‘Dreams’, the monotone nasal drone performed by that pseudo one-eyed nit Gabrielle, before lurching off in such wild directions of musical incompetence that I think it may have been written and recorded after work by the dinner ladies and Pedro, the potty mouthed Maltese cook with the limp and the built up shoe.
Now the graphics, we’re slowly drip fed still images of heroin-blue skies, LSD flowers, cocaine white beaches all punctuated by grinning orange pricks in garish Muumuus, all bordered off, like those postcards sent to you in June by Auntie and Uncle Dubious-Income who have an all round perma-tan and less taste than a darts player’s mantlepiece as the music shrieks and jumps in the background/your face.
In short, it’s fucking cheap shit; I’d no sooner go to Malta on the back of this advert than drop my testicles into a bucket of discarded hospital syringes.
13 Comments
How odd you should post that now. Have a look at my blog and see what I just posted…
I agree - the ad is not good.
You’re going on holiday?
You selfish BASTARD.
I couldn’t open your blog Paul, but I have to agree with SH. Going away in January is just plain wrong. Obscene,even
I’m going on holiday in February - do I win five pounds?
just a signed photo of Pedro.
You couldn’t open it? That’s weird.
Not on holiday as such. Its our winter sales conference and every year we go somewhere other than London. I’ll be in conference all day of course - but one of the great things about publishing is that its driven by booze, so the evenings should be pretty special.
Sorry if I am now officially a bastard. But I’ll get over it
I know why you couldn’t open it. I had given you the wrong URL. It should work now…
i went to malta as a teenager - excellent walking country (esp neighbouring island of gozo), but as a 16 year old the main entertainment was ditching my parents for the afternoon, buying a litre or two of generic red wine for around 50p, a packet of similarly priced fags, and consuming both while aimlessly stumbling around on some rocks. followed by going back to my hotel for a sleep, writing an awful, awful letter to the object of my unrequited hormonal affections, and hearing on the radio that Take That had split up. the hotel then provided a slap-up mystery meat dinner in the evening. happy days…
So - excellent walking country so long as you’re off your head on a 50p bottle of wine? Excellent stuff. You should go rambling with Napoleon - you sound like his kind of guy.
…yes, but make sure you like surprise sex
heh. reminds me of the time i went walking in the Malverns with a mate, got to the top of a fuckoff hill and then got stuck into a seriously boozy picnic with big spliffs and proper wine glasses and everything - much to the bemusement of the heathergater wearing, Vibram-soled rambler types in the vicinity.
no suprise sex though.
basically i like alcohol and slopes.
I find that the former causes the latter