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Tuesday, 9 August 2011

Bad Adverts - Thatchers' People Who Care About Cider


At least it's not 'People Who Care About Cidre', I suppose.

Really, this is more bizarre than bad: in a what-were-they-thinking kinda way.

I realise we can't all spin off the endless-summery-days-of-bullshit yarn Magners has bottled and sold, and I think I might possibly even like Thatchers, inasmuch as it's possible to like any cider brand that can afford its own billboard advertising, but...

I mean, look at it: it looks for all the world like an American horror b-movie: the sort of movie where a bunch of personality-bypass teens go on an unlikely road trip through some non-Democrat state then take a short-cut/wrong turn through uncharted dirt roads and end up breaking down inbetween gas stations and getting stalked by inbred mechanics before being picked off one-by-one in increasingly ridiculous displays of brutality, only for the last remaining actress (or actor, occasionally) to escape, bloodied and ragged, to a call box or a free-way or some other thing-we-have-over-here-with-an-American-name and then BANG: there's a shock ending that paves the way for a sequel, or some sort of unforeseeable TWIST that, likewise, paves the way for a sequel.

You know the ones. There are literally hundreds of them.

Except it's about cider, and therefore presumably set in Somerset: probably the least likely setting for a horror/road movie of that type on the face of this planet.

(Although our Proton did get run off the road betwixt Bridgwater and Taunton once and we all nearly died, but that would have made a pretty rubbish movie and/or cider advert.)

That silhouetted dude coming into his warehouse looks like exactly the kind of shadowy figure whose hideous features would loom above you, gurning from behind some rudimentary antique medical equipment glinting in the candlelight. So why is he being used to advertise cider? Am I missing something? I mean, I usually am missing something - if not, indeed, the whole point - but surely all you've got to do is replace the cider on that table with, say, a severed head, or a rusty cleaver in a pool of congealed blood, and then change the WELCOME TO THATCHERS logo to read something 'local' and 'creepy' like:

Zummerzet
or
Goblin Combe
or
Shepton Mallet*

and the tag-line to read likewise, like:

People who care about MURDER
or
People who care about ENTRAILS
or 
People who DON'T care about CIDER

And you've got an instant cult success on your hands.

If it was a b-movie.

As to marketing an actual cider; well, I admit I haven't the first clue about how one should go about doing that. Just... I dunno... don't go for a wacky horror movie angle for no apparent reason and/or possibly by accident.

Also, what's with that sun? Is it rising or setting?

If it's setting there's no excuse for the light not being switched on, and if it's rising methinks Mr. Leatherface cares a bit too much about cider.

No visible light source explains the cider itself, which consequently comes over a bit Peckham Spring.

Very odd. Not convinced.

Yours, disapprovingly,

AV

* Actually Shepton Mallet is pretty scary, because Sidney Cooke used to live there. I know this to be true because when I was driven through at the age of 15 there was a large hand-painted sign advertising the fact. (I don't think it was in a "come-and-visit-our-amazing [attraction]" kind of way, either...

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