Category: Uncategorised

Using the disabled in adverts

I’ve seen a few of these “infomercials” over in Australia, and they’re just like the ones back home. They all seem to use the physically challenged to show how shitty the item is that their wonder-product is designed to replace.

Bagless vacuum cleaner? Show a total spacka trying to close a bagged cleaner on the bag because they can’t get it to fit inside. Again. And again. And again.

Spaghetti cooker? Show some cripple snapping dry spaghetti to get it to fit into saucepan, spraying it all over the place.

Food-choppy thing? Show a complete mong struggling to use such a complicated device as a standard grater over a chopping board. Not just badly, but as if they have absolutely no hand/eye coordination whatsoever. Emphasise how likely it is that their parmesan cheese is likely to be flavoured with knuckle if they don’t spend $35 on a the Chop-a-matic.

And to top it all, what’s the special offer to convince you to buy the vacuum cleaner I mentioned? Buy one, get one free. Who the **** wants two vacuum cleaners? Except someone so completely wankered that they’re likely to break the first one. The kind of person who can’t use a grater, for instance.

Education

Is it wrong that I’m learning more about European history from the Doctor Who novel I’m reading than I was ever taught at school? Up until getting halfway through World Game I didn’t even know that Napoleon fought against both Wellington and Nelson, or what century this was in, let alone the actual years.

I have my reasons for not posting, folks. Essentially, they boil down to “I don’t feel like it”. Simply, I just don’t have the urge, the mood, the sense of humour or the outlook on life I did a couple of months ago. I’m depressed, basically. Very much so.

For updates on what’s going on, read the Travel Blog. For entertaining, uplifting shenanigans read Scaryduck. Frankly, right now I’m so down it’s not worth checking here for a bit. I hope to work my way out of things but I’m really just not happy with life – and I’m in a foreign country learning to SCUBA. That’s how down I am.

If you can be arsed, dig out the lyrics to Green Day’s Boulevard of Broken Dreams. That’s me, that is.

Many of you will already be aware that Top Gear presenter Ricard Hammond is in a serious condition in hospital following a very high-speed crash. Slightly less known is that a charity donation page has been set up for the Yorkshire Air Ambulance who airlifted him to hospital.

The news article mentions it right at the end, though the link to it’s not clear so I’m repeating it here. It’s on JustGiving.com and I’ve used this site before. UK tax payers can even ensure the charity gets an extra 28% of your donation using the Gift Aid system at no extra cost to yourself. At the time of writing, the BBC article reckoned they’re raised £4000. I just checked and it’s almost £24,000. Fantastic.

Get well soon, Hamster.

My cousin in Brisbane told me this story and it’s about a friend of her’s from back home in Scotland. Names changed to protect the fact that I can’t remember them.

This lady, let’s call her Fiona, is a single mum who’s son… erm… Andrew, is seven. One weekend, Andrew is taken on a cub scout trip, leaving Fiona on her own for the first weekend in as long as she can remember.

Heading home from dropping him off with the troup, she finds a random bloke outside her flat trying desparately to get his mobile to work so he can call a taxi. No joy, sadly. Fiona, though, is a good samaritan and shows him inside to use her telephone.

The next day he leaves. *ahem*

Fiona tells one of her friends the story and the friend asks her if she’s got the guy’s number. “I think so, but I can’t remember his name!”

So she sets to flicking through her mobile until she spots a name and number she doesn’t recognise. “Colin… yes, that sounds familiar.” She taps out a text detailing exactly how much she enjoyed the weekend and what she’d like to do the next time.

A few minutes later, the phone rings and a man says “Who is this?”

“It’s Fiona. I can’t believe you’ve forgotten me already after all the fun we had.”

“Fiona? This is Colin Matthews… your son’s cub scout leader?”

From that day on, once the story leaked, every time she calls my cousin and her husband answers he greets Fiona with a “Dib dib dib!”