Bizarre Kiwi radio ads

I’m listening to The Rock online while I’m in Hanoi, and some of the adverts are somewhat… more adult than you’d get back home.

As well as the one featuring copious uses of the word “bugger” detailed on my travel blog, I’ve heard some corkers over the last two days. Starting with one for an escort service’s web page where you can see all the munters… I mean “girls” before you hire one to suck you off. Allegedly. OK, you hire one to accompany you on a night out because you’re a social failure, then slip her an extra $100 to suck you off later in the evening as an agreement between consenting adults, or something.

Then there was an ad for an adult store selling XXX DVDs for only $10 (I’ll be stocking up when I get back). Not something I think the Radio Authority would allow in the UK. After all, porn and heavy metal both corrupt children and turn them into bedwetting Satanists.

I should know.

The advert immediately after that one was for the White Cross. An emergency, 24-hour clap clinic. I **** you not. Nob doctors advertising on radio.

Final one was fairly humorour. I can’t remember the exact lines, but it was along the lines of:

FX: grunt, squeak, squeak
Male: Argh, oh yes!
Female: *sigh*
Announcer: Are you a 40-second Freddy? Let us do weird things to your penis and you’ll be a 40-minute Freddy instead!
FX: grunt, squeak, squeak, squeak
Male: Are you ready yet?
Female: Oh, I’ve been past ready for ages, Freddy! You’re amazing!

I mean, for ****’s sake…

Purex

[forgot to post this when I was in Auckland]

Close to Durex, bit not quite. This stuff is actually a close relative of Andrex. That is, you wipe your arse with it rather than trusting it to prevent pregnancy. Mind, I’ve read enough stories of chavs using clingfilm and crisp packets that I wouldn’t be surprised.

But anyway.

In NZ they have Purex loo roll. The two things I noticed about the packet Lou bought today were:

  1. The ugly dog on the front. Andrex has a beautiful golden laborador. Purex has a… erm… thing with a squishy face.

  2. The word “unscented”

“Unscented” scares me, as that implies that they have a scented version. What do you really want your arse smelling off? Freshly peeled lemons? Rose gardens? Spring meadows?

Personally, I’m known for having a taste for fruity flavours. More than once I’ve been caught out by Body Shop’s cranberry flavour body scrub. Mmmm…. smells fruity… tastes of soap. Ick. Now if that was a nasty surprise imagine how I’d feel if I encountered a bumhole wiped with lemon-scented Purex.

This has been bugging me for days, now

If you get a tortoise and wait till it’s just getting cold, then move it to another warm climate will it still hibernate? And if it doesn’t will it live for half as long as it should do because it doesn’t spend half it’s life asleep?

Kiwis apparently know how to take penalties

Believe it or not, this made front page news of the main Auckland evening paper. After England dropped out of yet another competition on penalties, one journalist desperate for a headline grabbed a handful of people, took them to a park and got them to take pot-shots against a “top” New Zealand league keeper.

Of course, “top” NZ keeper equates to maybe League 2 back home, but let’s let that one slide for the moment.

Out of the five who took shots, all but a 12 year-old managed to score. One 49-year old businessman who slipped one past the keeper even said that “I don’t earn thousands of dollars a week and I could manage it easily enough. I don’t see what the pressure is. Maybe England need someone like me!” (or words to that effect – I’m quoting from memory).

Now, if this is typical of the Kiwi knowledge of the Beautiful Game then it may help explain why their national squad’s recent record reads “Played 13 Won 1 Lost 12”. Because, of course, if they’d had a 49 year-old businessman running round the pitch, dying of heart failure to disrupt the opposition, it would have made all the difference. As for “pressure”, I don’t think the better part of a billion people were watching him kick balls at a pro-am keeper.

I’m not trying to defend England’s poor record at penalties – we do need to do something about it – but there is no denying that penalties have to be one of the most horrendously tense, worrying, ****-scary experiences of a fan’s life. I can only imagine what it’s like for the person taking them. Sure, you can study and practise, but I’m sure most people remember their driving test. How easy driving seemed before you took it. No problem. Up and down the streets, roundabouts a doddle, parallel parking… easy.

Then the test. Harder, wasn’t it? In fact I know for a fact that most of you will have failed that first one. And what was the difference? Pressure. One person who wasn’t friend or family who was watching your every move. One. Imagine if there had been 500 million people watching your test.

Now you know what the difference is between penalty practise and taking one in the World Cup. And until the Kiwis learn that, they’re going to langour at the bottom of the world pile looking up at the Socceroos for some time to come.

And that’s a ******* embarassing place to be sat.