Saturday, June 15, 2024
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Ads That Don’t Make Any Sense: W**kinson’s Sword

Adverts I don’t understand: W**kinson’s Sword????
The setting is a launderette. An attractive young lady sitting on top of the driers. No surprise there. Never an older lady, whom might have more cause … er … to wash stuff … .Cats,.probably.  But I guess I can let that go.  I mean it would be difficult for her to get up that high in the first place … And, what if she had a fall ? Would that be my fault ?
I wish the advert was different … but I don’t want that difference to be an old lady falling 10 ft off an industrial sized drying unit on to the linoleum with a terrible 70s design ( flared ). Then scrabbles weakly to turn the camera ( which has also fallen over … C’mon! Obviously she’s shooting the ad herself on a hand held camera … She’s an old lady. How much money do you think she’s got ? … She’s at the launderette for goodness sake. ) back upon herself and berates me as she bleeds out.
” Are you happy now ? … Are you happy **** *********, with what your deranged crusade for fictional age equality in toiletry commercials has wrought ??  My hip is broken …  I’m bleeding all over my clothes … Do you know how difficult that is to get out ? …. I’d just washed them too …. That’s $5 straight down the drain for nothing  … Thanks a lot you jerk … I mean, $5 isn’t bad .. It’s a great little place this actually … but, basically, I’m still a bit p*ssed off … Gerald is going to put me in a home fore sure now.”
And you know that she’s in the launderette all by herself, right ? … ’cause otherwise someone would be holding the camera. 
Then the ad ends, nothing has been said about the razors she was supposed to promote, I know that her fee won’t be paid, so Gerald ( the cheapskate ) buries her in an orange juice cartoon in the back yard, I grow an absurdly long crazy wild beard ’cause I am too wracked with guilt to ever buy a razor again and pigeons nest in my beard. 
I don’t want pigeons nesting in my beard. THEY’RE A LEDGE BIRD …… A ledge bird.
Anyway ….. I digress.
The young lady ( who isn’t an old woman ) perched upon the drier, selects a freshly washed dried & folded ‘ lady item’, scrunches it up and playfully launches it at the hunky gent loading / unloading ( he doesn’t know, he wasn’t booked to explain A Brief History Of Time in 15 seconds ) the adjoining drier. 
As the he looks up ( ignoring the old lady presumably still bleeding out next to him. He just wanted her drier … Jerk! ) the … ‘lady item ‘ ( possibly, but not necessarily, a slip ) explodes into a shower water accompanied  by ” It’s like a blast of hydration ” as narrated by the king of science himself, Mr. Science.
Firstly ….. ” Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa -t ???? “
And secondly, … I thought, ‘ Blast Of Hydration ‘ was a Poke’mon attack …. which presumably means that the young lady has a very small house. … Not wonder she is hitting on the guy, he lives in a drier now … or will do as soon as the old lady pops off.
Further confusion arises at this point, as on screen is a little disclaimer stating ” Hydrates only during shaving “, so really, as the guy is in a launderette & also not shaving ( shaving only being possible in a designated Poke’mon Battle Arena ) , the ‘lady item ‘ should not bursting with anything.
I don’t really get the analogy either. Why would clothes burst into water upon leaving the possession of the the lady ? 
Could the lady be the little mermaid ? Are these be special clothes made entirely of water ? Does she need them to survive ? Is this a cry for help ?
Why is the little mermaid so sad ? *:( sad
Alternatively, if the lady is not a mermaid, haven’t her ‘ lady items ‘ just come out of the drier ? Surely they are the last things that could be comprised completely of water. …. I wonder if there is another Transformers movie in the pipeline ?
Nick Jackson was born in the UK, the land of gunpowder tea, but moved to America to escape exploding cups of tea. He now lives in Florida where he attempts come to terms with concepts such as how flat everything is and whether the alligator is a golfer's natural predator. Nick has written for Monkey Pickles from the beginning, as established in Cern, Switzerland, with the discovery of the long-sought Monkey Pickle Particle. He is somewhat "freaked out" by writing in the third person. Nick is motivated to write for the pleasure of the experience rather than to pay the bills, but he does recognize that pleasure is still not an acceptable method of payment in most respectable retail outlets. He hopes to raise a smile or two before being ejected from the store.
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