Dumb Ways to Die...

Hang me again.

Really.
To save the dead farmer's family.
So what if the paintings fetch a crore or two?
Farmers have been dying for years.
In thousands.

Save park benches from chewing gum.
Save Calligraphy.
Save Cricket.
By printing out stumps.
And pasting them on top of the stumps,
drawn on the walls by the children of India for years.

Save the trees to save the endangered species.
But wait!
This appeal's got to be printed!
On paper!
Hmm.
So you can't really save the trees.
If you wish to save endangered species.
Not to worry...
There is no category called Logic-Lions.
Phew!

How about saving our energy?
And spending it on advertsing effectiveness.
No. Not the category!!!
I mean, real, old school effectiveness.
One that helps sell.
Helps make profit.
Improves the economy.
Helps us look good as professionals,
and not award hungry buffoons.

Ah, well...
Save your unpatriotic breath,
I hear you say.
Let's celebrate.
And move on.
Just like those farmer's families.

Hang me again,
and sing 'Dumb ways to die'.

Jai Hind.
- Anna

How To Save Your Marriage

Have you heard of a carpenter who could fix a broken marriage? (Now all you lads who just jumped up in Ogilvy's creative department yearning to crack the next big film on Fevicol, please sit down. This is not an invitation to impress the mustaches. It is a serious question.) Or for that matter have you heard of a carpenter who could fix his own broken marriage?

But carpenters don't discuss marital issues with clients. They stick to their work. They do not say, that by building this dinner table, you will bridge the generation gap between you and your kid by the next meal! Or by making this bed... well, you get the picture.

But this ad puts a different veneer on the state of affairs in todays speed-dating-marrying-divorcing world. In this unbelievable ad the woman changes her mind about the whole divorce thing because she looks at the new laminates in the guys house (do not miss her glance at the more-than-one-person-slept-in bed as she totters around the house). Take a look.

Now, I bet that this script was originally written for Nescafe and recycled for Marino. And the creative department brought it out of someone's unreleased portfolio just because the client had rejected all good scripts. Maybe in the original the guy changes his coffee brand and the marriage gets saved. No? Not a good script? Ok, how about the other woman comes out of shower and says "Ew, you are drinking coffee! I am so outta here" and walks off. No? Still not impressed? Well, neither am I with this ad.
 I am not going on a fast or anything. But today I will skip coffee over this.

Jai Daniel J. O'Conor, Jai Hind.
- Anna.

Sorry, We Can't Ford it...

"They sacked me!" he cried as he threw himself at my feet. I was giving my morning pravachan about how 'scams' bring down our credibility. There were some hot trainee creatives in my pandaal today and wanted a private consultation post the pravachan. Needless to say, I found this intrusion a bit irritating.
It took me a millisecond to recognize him - Pakya! The junior production in-charge of JWT, Mumbai! "What did you do Pakya? Did you offend any NCD or someone?" I knew him to be a loose cannon of sorts. I was sure he must have fudged some invoices or printed some fake petrol bills and charged it to a big ticket client or something.
"I didn't do anything!", he sobbed. "It was going so well. I had joined this great top rung agency and I was getting to work on Ford. Imagine working on an international account in your first job!"
Poor guy. I had to give him a dose of reality. "What international account? As a junior production guy, isn't your job carrying art-pulls or dvds around?" I asked softly.
"But I was assigned to the Ford team", he wiped his tears. "My girlfriend was so proud of me. She gave a 'Like' to my FB status about working on Ford. She also shared it on her timline..."
"So what went wrong?" I asked. "I don't know. I entered the office today and everyone was talking about someone apologising to somebody else. The shit hitting the ceiling fan or something. So I asked my boss what's up, and he said "Mader****" who uploaded the fuc**** ads?" "Language, Pakya!", I shouted.
I saw that the hot trainee creatives were a bit uncomfortable, and I did not want them to leave. "But that's what my boss said. I think he was referring to some chu*** scam ads the boys were making last evening" Pakya was helbent on screwing it up for the second time today. "Then boss asked me why my computer was not turned off last evening. I always work late, and I browse 'adsoftheworld' to pass my time as I wait for the layouts or artworks. I must have forgotten about it and left the computer on. So what's the big deal?" "But my boss dragged me to the conference room where all the big guys were, and said, this is the assh****"
The hot trainees got up to leave. I asked them to sit down. They needed this expletives-training if they had to survive in the agency world. "And then what happened?" Pakya went on, "Nothing. The HR head came to me and said, 'We had such plans for you, but this is as far as we can go', and handed me my sacking letter." He started sobbing again.
So Pakya was the first and the last victim of the Ford-gate. Totally oblivious to the whole controversy. I am sure he did not know who Silvio Berlusconi was, let alone the social media backlash that the campaign had generated. To me, he was like the gagged and tied women thrown back in the spacious boot of the Figo.
I am deeply disturbed by what was done to him. An account got saved. A scam went unpunished. But Pakya's possible bright career got ruined in the name of 'strict action taken'.

I am on a month long fast against this atrocity. And the fact that the ads themselves were not worth even a single word in social media.

Jai Henry Ford, Jai Hind.
- Anna.

Ek, Bey, Tran, Chaar

Time and again I have heard these starting bars on the radio. They act as a cue for me to reach for the volume button on my car stereo. But today, it was not to be so. My wife was driving the car. I was in the backseat. No, don't get me wrong. I respect my wife and do not treat her like a driver, but what to do? She says I distract her. In my younger days, I would have taken that as an invitation, and would have asked her to join me on the backseat. But now, I know I am a distraction in the worst possible way. Plus I had, in my hands, a tin full of Dhokla. So she ordered me to sit in the back and not to touch upholstry with my greasy hands. I was celebrating not having been on a fast for some time with a gujju nibble (don't read too much into this).
So, you see, it was difficult to reach for the volume control. And I had to hear it. He Ram! This time it was a RAP! Earlier AB used to just say the lines written by some poor copywriter for a press ad, trying hard to make Gujarat seem like English countryside. (Radio VO and press copy are two different things, as was taught to us in the old school of advertising, but what do I know?) I just used to give out a sigh, as senior AB told listeners how they can be 'one with themselves in Kutch on top a camel' or some such philosophical nonsense.
But in RAP? Please! And one which has an opening line - "Hey you"! I could almost hear the Notorious B.I.G. going "Mothaf..." as he turned in his grave. Don't you think this gives the English coutryside a slight Hell's Kitchen twist?
My stomach sure did a twist and I threw the tin of dhokla towards the car stereo! The dhoklas flew in all directions! My wife gave out a scream and took one roller-coaster turn as we hit an innocent Gujarati bystander. I did not have to tell her to flee the scene as she pressed the accelerator hard as if it was the brake!
I demand a fresh radio spot be written and given to AB immediately. Until that happens, I am not touching another piece of Khaman.

Jai Somnath, Jai Hind.
- Anna.

Wire, Wire, the Script's on Fire!

Its no surprise that people are losing their faith in politics and advertising. No matter which industry you belong to (yes, advertising is still considered an industry), your experiments with truth have run their course. Consumers have decided to suspend their suspension of disbelief. And at the heart of this change is the sinking levels of advertising creativity.
Agreed, your precious wires do not catch fire. But what about your pants? By what stretch of imagination (they stretch too, right? I mean wires, not pants.) are we supposed to believe, that the fire of corruption is connected to, and will be doused by a piece of wire??? Wire is fire-proof - call corruption fire - therefore wire is corruption-proof! Huh??? This is how you give advertising logic a bad name!
How about this logic: The father is the consumer, the bratty kid the advertiser. The father ends up strangling the kid with the same flag-pole wire! What? not convinced? Or is the agency/client totally 'fire'-proof?

First I was too disgusted to mount a hunger strike, and just wanted to watch some 'other' cartoon as the kid says (wink, wink, aren't we clever?) but there's the future of advertising to think about. If I don't protest against this ad, the future generation of writers would think this to be a benchmark! At least those who do not choose technical or content writing instead and make decent money!

I am extending my ongoing fast* by two more days.

Jai WPP, Jai Hind.
- Anna.

* The one against the Fevi Stick (Sachin) ad.

 

Aaila! Duplicate!

The moment I saw the visiting card, I knew that something was amiss. It wasn't surprising that Piyush had come to meet me at my humble abode. But it was damn suspicious to see the word O'gilvy written in all caps! I had done a crash course in typography just recently and I knew the difference between calligraphic signature and typographic word instantly!
I wanted to see this fake Piyush out of curiosity, so I asked my disciple to show him in. "Hahahahaha" he gave out a hearty signature laugh as we greeted each other, I could not help but see his pristine white teeth and knew that I do not need to take any dental marks and send them to the lab to verify his identity.
"It's the Fevi-Stick commercial that I wanted to see you about", he said. I narrowed my eyes. "You mean the one that had a fake Sachin with the fake acting in a fake shop?" I was no stranger to politicians lobbying to stop me from going on a fast. I had already seen this ad. "Yes, the same one" he said, "It's written by one of my boys and I was wondering if you found it alright."
"Alright?! You mean it is alright to use a fake to tell people to buy genuine Fevi-Stick? Sorry, that one did not stick. It is irritating as hell! Why does he keep dancing and overacting? Maybe you should have used original Sachin to end the commercial and make a point."
Fake Piyush gave out a sheepish smile, "You do have a point there, Anna. But it is December. We have spent everything on scams and fake releases! Nothing's left to get the real Sachin!"
"So what do you want me to do about your stupid ad?, I asked.
"Well, just don't go on a fast against this. We are planning to send this one for the awards, and any bad publicity might cost us the gold at Cannes". With this, slowly, he opened his briefcase. It was full of banknotes! He pushed it towards me!
The commercial did not stand a chance even at fake Cannes (Which is organized every year near Candivali). I was sure the banknotes were fake as well. But I was growing tired of this fake Piyush and wanted to end the meeting, just like viewers are getting tired of watching their god being ridiculed every five minutes on national television. See for yourself:

"Ok, I will go on a fake fast!", I said.
"Hahahaha, That works fine! Let's celebrate!", fake Piyush was happy. One of my disciples brought us some Earl Grey tea. He started ranting about his days as a tea-tester as he poured milk in his cup of Earl Grey.... Sigh!
Although this ad looks like written by a fake writer under the supervision of fake Piyush, in fake O'gilvy, I am going on a REAL, week-long fast to protest against this atrocity.

Jai Sachin, Jai Hind.
-Anna.

Direct to Hell!

I am posting this from the hospital. No, don't get me wrong, I am just a visitor here. I had to come down to meet this unfortunate couple who have miraculously survived the crash that they got themselves into. Not only are they victims of bad advertising, but of a bad shooting script. Back on their feet, I am sure they will want to shoot whoever wrote this commercial they were modeling for. See for yourself. There are a number of questions you might want to ask the writers:
1] What are these 5 models dressed in shorts doing on table land (or whatever this location is)?
2] Why are they asking if the couple (who might have a different agenda being all alone in their car) if they want to see a demo of a DTH service? Aren't they far away from their hotel, which would have been a better place to demo it? (Again, be mindful that the couple might have a different agenda over there as well).
3] Why fit a mirror blocking the driver's vision and send them down a death ride? (Sorry this should have been question number one).
4] How much did you pay the couple so that they agree to your stupid scheme?
5] How is a mirror a demo of HD? (Perhaps this should have been question number one).
6] The woman asks "Ek aur demo milega?" How early did you take this shot? I have just visited both in hospital. Her face was all hidden with bandages, and both of them had their fixed jaws open! I am sure she looked different after your first 'demo'. (Evil, evil is the editing machine).
7] Can the entire team that worked on this commercial (including the client) fit in that car? Will they scream the same way while rolling down a slope with a mirror blocking their view?
Try it. Please. I insist.

 
I am on a week-long fast against this commercial. I will open my mouth to eat something the moment the convalescing couple close theirs.
Jai Bud Ekins, Jai Hind.
- Anna.