Personality politics

Local elections are coming up in Fondi and the walls of the town are plastered with advertising for the candidates for town mayor. They tend to appear in pairs, like teenage girls on a first night out. They use as few words as possible and prefer those words to have purely feel-good value. The bald man on the top right, for example, is saying yes to transparency. Beneath him the woman with the pleasant smile is suggesting that we start again, though to do what isn't specified. The man with the glasses on the bottom left is saying yes, you can, which is very generous of him, although, once again, I wasn't aware that his permission was needed. The girls on the top left have nothing at all to do with Fondi, or politics for that matter, but I felt like including them, if only to contrast their very focused plea with the vote-catching vacuity of the mayoral candidates around them.

What's even worse is that, in their frenzy to attract the punter, these mayoral candidates haven't seen fit to indicate their political allegiances. Where do they stand on all that other duller stuff, like job opportunities and how local money is spent and, sorry though I am to bring this up, the role of organised crime in local government? I mean, I'm all in favour of transparency, but not if it's the transparency of De Meo's spiritual father, Saint Silvio of Berlusconi. And knowing that yes, I can might make me feel empowered at the outset, but it starts to lose its appeal if the person enabling me thinks money-laundering, or illegal parking, or building a villa on public land, are some of the things I'm empowered to do.

I think I'll vote for the Faith Tones. They not only have fabulous hair - I know where they stand.

Orangina? Are they sure?

What were the people who made this on? And when will they be handling the Tizer contract? I'm not sure that this makes me thirsty, but there are certainly moments when it makes me laugh. Which can't be bad.

And listen to the words! Lubricious doesn't even start to describe it.

Indecent? No, too much salt...

This is the Heinz ad you won't be seeing on television, because 200 people complained, so you may as well see it here. (This is four times the number of people who complained about Joan Rivers calling Russell Crowe a 'fucking shit' on Loose Women. Make of this what you will, but Loose Women is daytime TV and Heinz ads are on every fucking hour of the day.)

Hmm. I'm not totally happy about 'Mum'.

Five recommended portions a day

Would that be five feet?

And what if they're not quite, er, there?

Or just too good to be true?

Veils

Cranach's Venus is too saucy for London Underground travellers, according to Transport for London, which has banned its use in an advertisement. This wonderful image, at once demure and enticing, had been chosen to advertise a Royal Academy show devoted to the great 16th century artist. It's one of a number of Venuses produced by Cranach: there's a particularly lascivious one, wearing a splendid hat and lounging against, if not actually dangling from, a tree while she listens to Cupid, who's no doubt used to this sort of behaviour. He's complaining that he's been stung by bees while trying to steal their honey. The painting represents the notion that all pleasure is mixed with pain, and it's an allegory that might be applied to Transport for London's decision to punish the RA for daring to bring a little artistic pleasure into travellers' lives.

Apparently the painting might 'offend'. A Transport for London spokesman said: "Millions of people travel on the London Underground each day and they have no choice but to view whatever ads are posted there. We have to take into account the full range of travellers and endeavour not to cause offence in the adverts we display." It's pretty clear to me that the only travellers of this 'full range' who might be offended by the painting are Muslim males and, at a pinch, our own home-grown fundamentalist killjoys. It's a pre-emptive strike in favour of bigotry, with the authorities trying to double-guess what might be 'upsetting' and who might be 'upset', though they can't actually say this.

Poor old Cranach. Poor us.

Red bull? Papal bull? Plain bull...

Thanks to the efforts of one humourless Sicilian priest (Father Marco Damanti, if you care), who's played the blasphemy card and scared Red Bull into compliance, you'll no longer be able to see this harmless advertisement on Italian television.

Never mind, you can see it here.

Free speech

In today's Guardian, Brian Klug makes an interesting point about the brouhaha surrounding the Oxford Union's decision to invite two fascists - who shall here remain nameless - to participate in a debate on free speech. He points out that if these two have a right to contribute to the debate then so has he, and so have you, and so has everyone else. And if they don't have a right, then that right can't be denied them.

So what are they doing there? Other than advertise the Union and its attention-seeking president, whose name I shall also not provide.

It pays to advertise

But it also pays to find someone who knows how to do it. I may be more sensitive to language than many people, but the sheer concentration of howlers in this flyer for the Bear Hotel, Hodnet, is pretty glaring. I'm particularly fond of the free-form third sentence, which isn't a sentence at all, and the juxtaposition within it of 'Medieval Banqueting Hall' and 'disco facilities'. Unique backdrop, indeed. I also like the idea of themed wedding, though I wonder what they have in mind. The Black Death? Beowulf?

But the pièce de résistance has to be the second paragraph. The semi-colon is presumably there to lend gravitas to its surroundings - it certainly serves no grammatical purpose. Unfortunately, it comes immediately after pallet, as in:

a) a narrow mattress filled with straw;
b) a hard, narrow bed;
c) a flat wooden or metal platform on which goods are stored.

How sophisticated is that? Nice one, Trevor.

Mugs

Another quickie before we go back to Paris. This piece of quality merchandise can be obtained from the Silvio Berlusconi Fans (sic) Club for a mere €20. Cheap at the price. It's recommended for use in companies, although companies of what he doesn't say. Political philosophers perhaps.

One for Salman

I was directed to this by its maker, who comments on Guardian blogs as IMHOTEP. Apparently, it was criticised by Campaign magazine, which isn't surprising, and by The Observer, which, frankly, is.

It's a load of shite thing

Sixteen-year-old English schoolgirl Lydia Playfoot has taken her school to court after being refused permission to wear her 'purity ring', claiming that it's a religious symbol, etc. despite the fact that it's about as historic as a John Holmes vibrating dildo (a little product placement here). Personally, I'd have thought her smug little face were deterrent enough but if she really must wear something to tell the world that she's saving her quim for someone special, why not wear a hoodie with It's a Silver Ring Thing emblazoned on the front (only £20). Or a Safe Sex? T-shirt at £15. Or a beanie hat at a tenner. It may not have much to do with the Bible, but it'll certainly keep this little gang of trouble-making fundamentalists in pocket (I'm sorry, they're a strictly no-profit organisation. It says so on the site). You can find the full range of Silver Ring Thing (SRT; not to be confused with STD) merchandise here.

The company secretary of SRT is Heather Playfoot, while the parents programme director is Phil Playfoot. The surname sound familiar? As though fucking around with their own daughter weren't enough, they want to spend the money they make from selling hoodies (plus a mere twenty quid extra per kid) on something they call Child Sponsorship:

Child Sponsorship
We come across many needy young people on our travels; many are from deprived areas and desperately want to make an abstinence decision and take part in the Silver Ring Thing. Unfortunately they are unable to afford to attend the 4 week programme and receive the SRT434 Student pack and the Silver Ring. By providing a gift of £20, one student will have the opportunity to hear this message, to make an abstinence commitment with a ring, and to share in the hope of a blessed marriage and future. This gift also enrols a student in the extensive follow-up programme designed by SRT.

Deprived children desperate for abstinence? Do me a favour.

Flyer found in toilet

Another great find by Jane. A flyer spotted in the Ladies' Powder Room (honestly) of Beatties department store, Wolverhampton, now, alas, part of the House of Fraser. Those of you who know Beatties will understand how sad this is. I remember sitting in the ballroom as mannequins wandered among the tables with the price of their dresses on small embossed cards in their hands, background music provided by a small man at a piano. I remember Battenburg and angel cake and leaves in the tea. Sad, sad, sad. And this flyer is emblematic of Beatties' decline. The oddest thing about it is that it clearly knows what it's saying and thinks its message somehow appropriate and, even, appealing.

Having said all that, because of course, like everyone else, I can have it both ways, there's a shamelessness about it that I find rather compelling. A sort of slapping on the muck while Wolverhampton burns.

Mixed messages

A new TV ad for the Italian mineral water Ferrarelle features a pregnant woman. She's drinking a glass of the water in question and as she drinks the action moves to the womb and we see the little hands of the foetus start to shift to the disco beat, the tiny feet tap out the rhythm. In next to no time, the little thing's bopping away, even quoting Pulp Fiction as its fingers pass before its not-yet eyes.

Worryingly anthropomorphic, you might think. Disturbingly pro-life. And, of course, you'd be right. Except for one redeeming detail.

The music that get the little fellow going is You make me feel (mighty real). By Sylvester.

Gay icon. Gay foetus.

Click on the little blue box!

This is fabulous. I've managed to rant about Ratzinger to such an extent that my google ads have picked up on it. The current one, for as long as it lasts, will send you to a site that promises to tell you the name of the next pope (apparently the last - promises, promises) and various other holy revelations. (I'm not allowed to click on them myself - or, rather, I am but haven't installed the little program that allows me to yet).

Yesterday, you could have gone to a site that gave access to the personal records of practically anyone in the United States. Its selling line, though, was sex offenders and how to track them down (with photographs). So not much difference there.

Just in case today's ad has gone by the time you read this, the site is here. (Believe me, it's a hoot! Try the video...)

It pays to advertise

I thought I'd go with Google's offer to give me money in return for space on my blog. Which is why you'll see a tasteful pale blue rectangle in the top right hand corner whenever you visit me. Naturally, the more often you click on the ad the more I earn, so I expect you to do your best.

The only problem so far is that, being Google, it seems to work on key words and phrases. In my case, presumably on the strength of the recent post about dead pets (entitled Loved Ones: see below), it's decided this blog is an ideal place to advertise sites selling grief management, memorial websites, mortuary services - the gloomier the merrier, so to speak.

So if you notice future posts with cheerful titles that are quite unrelated to the substance of the post (e.g. party time! followed by an attack on homophobia in Zimbabwe), don't be surprised. I'm just trying to throw Adsense off.

Oh yes, after only two days I've made seventy cents. Looking good...