I return again to a topic, one that puzzles me more and more as time goes on. I refer to television advertising. We’ve had the twerking men in denim hotpants and high heels, those bloody meerkats, that opera singer that inclines me to homicide if I can’t reach the remote quickly enough, Winston Wolf, blah blah blah.

Here’s the latest piece of idiocy that has attracted my attention. I can’t tell you what the name of the product is, but it’s some form of sweeties of the type that make children into gibbering hyperactive irritants when they simply open the packaging.

There’s a giraffe. It’s on a tropical beach, and it appears to be eating a rainbow. Down at the business end of things is a dreadlocked Rastafarian, sitting on a stool, milking the giraffe into a bucket. But Lo! No milk, but multicoloured concentrated e-numbers bound together with sugar. Said Rasta picks one out, has a munch, and unleashes one of those ‘Bwahahahaha’ laughs beloved of cheap horror films. Except a West Indian accent was never Christopher Lee’s forte, as far as I can recall.

There are several problems here. One, you won’t find a giraffe anywhere near the beach. They’re savannah dwellers. Two, they don’t eat rainbows. They browse on trees. Three. You don’t get rainbows in the tropics; the sun’s too close to overhead. Four, there’s not a cloud to be seen anyway, so it sure isn’t raining.

Then let’s look at the puzzling logistics. Five, an adult giraffe’s legs can be up to six feet long. Our happy rasta would need to be milking above head height, which I suspect would be suboptimal. However, when we get a panning shot, six, his head is about level with the giraffe’s belly. Hence seven, he’s milking an immature giraffe, which smacks of bestiality and an unhealthy interest in youngsters.

Then let’s look at the theme. I’d be surprised if the target demographic for these sweeties is adults, and I’d also bet that nearly all are purchased by or for children. Since you can’t advertise junk to children, the advertisers have to box a bit clever. Yet advertise after the kiddiewinks are in bed and you’re aiming at the wrong people, surely? And does a laughing rasta milking a giraffe make adults more likely to buy stuff for their children? Answers on a postcard, please.

Bring back the Smash aliens. Please. Pretty please. With sugar on top. And a cherry.

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