Posts tagged ‘advertising’

Australian Tourism – Tits, Beer and Sport

I’m doing some work at the moment for a large tourism body – the organisation that brought you the ‘Where The Bloody Hell Are You’ campaigns that were banned in the UK.

I still can’t figure out exactly what element of that campaign the Brits found so offensive. Were the Brits just sick of all the drunk Aussies stumbling around Shepherds Bush at 3am on a Saturday morning in search of the mystic beer-scooter to take them home? Or perhaps they were simply just envious that you can afford to buy a beer at any pub in Australia without the need to remortgage your house.

Or perhaps the Brits were just plain ticked-off that Australia could produce such a hottie as Lara Bingle. When wondering around London, haven’t you noticed that almost every pretty girl is speaking a foreign language? When God was handing out country qualities, did he say: “right…England….you can specialise in ugly women and substandard reality television”.

Venture out of the capital and it’s even worse. Be prepared to reach for either the whisky bottle or the Vaseline-coated glasses.

7pm on a Saturday evening, I’m catching a train into central Cardiff from the suburbs. Surrounding me are 2 parties of intoxicated, overweight 20-something year old women, all clothed in a particular theme. The group on my right are dressed as tubby school teachers. Imagine that on Wendy’s text message to her lasses earlier that evening: “let’s all dress up as fat, minging teachers, that’ll get the lads blood pumping!”.

The group in front of me, with their bare breasts pressed up against the train windows, are dressed as playboy bunnies complete with size 18 mini-skirts. They are yelling something at each other in a strange guttural language that sounds vaguely like English. In fact, I think it is English….a dialect that was spoken in 1950’s suburban Brisbane.

The two groups are going down on their cans of luke-warm Stella faster than a ten pound hooker.

The Brits just love their beer don’t they, probably even more so than Aussies. Britain is the only place I know where you can buy a can of beer at every newsagent, petrol station, fish and chips store or Sunday School. I even bought a beer at the KFC at Tower Hill.

But I guess like Aussies, Brits love a beer simply to lighten up and relax whilst watching the football, hoping to high heaven that with a few more lagers the overweight group of Welsh birds dressed as Playboy bunnies will somehow appear more attractive.

The current campaign for this particular tourism body feature rather sophisticated and romantic messaging. Emotional themes hint that Australia will be a place to enlighten yourself, remove the angst and pressures of your normal life.

In order to better target the British public, I think the core campaign message could have been simplified to: “Come to Australia. We have Tits, Beer and Sport.”


Australian holiday tip: avoid drinking in the sun without a hat


May 19, 2009 at 9:21 pm 2 comments

Plane crash accidents – how to survive

OK, well I hope that title got your attention. Because honestly, do you really think I’m qualified to give you tips to survive a plane crash?

Geez – I’m in advertising. My job is to convince people to buy things they don’t need and can’t afford.

Apologies to all who have purchased the latest Audi R8. It really won’t make the girls believe you have style or substance, but a rather small willy. In fact, our research shows that you are probably an un-stylish middle-aged man that earns over $250K but still shops at Aldi, hasn’t had sex since the Beijing Olympics and secretly thinks the red-head kid from Harry Potter is cool.

Sorry, off on a tangent.

Where was I….ahh plane crashes.

What is the whole big deal with phobia about plane crashes? These days you honestly have more chance of dying from chili-poisoning by accidentally using Tabasco sauce as lube, than from dying in a plane crash.

I flew from Santiago to Sydney, and landed yesterday morning. In Santiago, not having slept a great deal and pretty much drinking the entire time, you naturally would assume I’d been looking forward to at least a bit of rest on the flight home.

Haven’t you noticed that whenever you’re hungover on a plane, you are sat next to either 1) a fat bloke, 2) a Mormon who believes God allocated him the 18 hour flight to save your soul, 3) a whiny little kid, 4) a man who is just outright smelly?

Well, I had to sit next to a twisted combination of all 4; an overweight, pimply son of a Chilean missionary who was coughing and smelt of Vics Vapour Drops and wanted to talk to me about the church of the latter day saints. His name was Adelmo.

So, in an effort to disengage from conversation with him, I pretended to read. Problem was, they confiscated my book at security. Thought it was a bomb making guide or something – not sure how they got that from “Memoirs of a Geisha”. The only thing on board that was in English was one of those flight-safety pamphlets which brings me back to the original topic of this post.

Firstly, the pamphlet advises you to sit down and ensure your seat belt is fastened.

Sorry, I don’t buy it.

If the 747 I’m traveling in is plunging nose-first into the Pacific ocean, the last thing I want is to slowly drown in icy waters trapped in my seat watching feces from fellow passengers floating in front of my face.

I’m going out with a bang and would rather experience the sensation of flying headfirst down the aisle into business class.

Seat-belts save lives

Seat-belts save lives

The first thing I’m doing is taking off my seat belt and walking to the on board kitchen to raid the alcohol fridge. If I’m going to hell, I’d rather go pissed and happy. I’d also recommend chatting up the nearest sexy flight attendant too.

What is it with the flight attendants at the start of every trip going through the same routine of pointing out where the exit doors are etc? People watch the pre-flight safety demo only because they’re imagining Maria the Chilean flight hostess in a bikini.

She should spend her time in a more productive way, by telling people to pray to Allah, Buddha, Bono, Obama or whatever god they believe in. Perhaps that part of the safety demo could sound something like this:

In the event of emergency, please pray to your god.

For Islamic believers, please observe the onboard flight service managers who will now point to the nearest illuminated arrows which point to the direction of Mecca. Note that this arrow is subject to change pending the plane going into a tailspin.

Buddhists, the flight attendants will be handing out free hash to help you reach enlightenment faster.

Mormons, if this plane crashes, praying will do nothing. God is telling you that you didn’t convert enough sinners and you didn’t try hard enough. For starters, stop eating so many Vics Vapour Drops, they really are a distraction from the cause.

Atheists, if you have not yet discovered God, he was actually hiding in a t-shirt stall in Camden Markets.

April 28, 2009 at 8:02 am 2 comments