Courtney Love has spent over a decade trying to gradually edge out of Kurt Cobain's shadow, but that was hardly likely to happen when all the while Kurt Cobain was prancing about on a cloud in heaven in a pair of lovely Doc Martens, was it?
A set of adverts featuring an image of Kurt Cobain looking a bit glum in heaven wearing Doc Martens has enraged his widow Courtney Love, who is understandably upset that there are pictures around of her husband flogging overrated goth shoes. But, after a monumental PR snafu, Doc Martens has backed down and withdrawn all the adverts from circulation. It wasn't so much that nobody asked for her approval, Courtney Love says, more that the picture in the advert is inaccurate - after all, if Kurt Cobain did go to heaven his face would be blown apart with a shotgun wound, not all intact like the advert says it would be.
You know what we're like here at hecklerspray - a cynical bunch of 'seen-it-all-before' types who probably wouldn't raise an eyebrow if a tidal wave annihilated a nunnery.
Yet sometimes something leave us absolutely speechless. One of them - and we've included in it our regular Badvertising feature for good reason - was this commercial for a highly questionable Super Soaker water pistol.
It's called The Oozinator. And - from the looks of this godforsaken TV spot - it's the kind of thing Gary Glitter could only dream about.
Badvertising is a semi-regular hecklerspray feature where we take a current advert showing on British television and tear it to pieces for sport - and by the love of Christ are we ever kicking off with a doozy. Ladies and gentlemen - the Dulco Ease ad.
If there's one thing that girls like, it's Sex And The City. In Sex And The City, all sorts of dumpy women from around the world watched four women - a slag, a bitter ginger woman, a half-woman half-horse hybrid and another one - sit around a coffee shop table and discuss having it off and shoes and stuff. Sex And The City was popular because girls like talking about sex and shoes. They don't like, say, sitting around a coffee shop table talking about all the rock-hard shards of impacted shit jutting into the side of their bowels all the time. Someone probably should have pointed this out to whoever made the Dulco Ease advert.
Dulco Ease is a product that you gobble down when you can't shit. But instead of Dulco Ease advertising itself the normal way - for instance, a grinning rake-thin man saying "I took Dulco Ease when I was constipated and it made be gush out a hot jet of liquid shit so violently that my toilet has been completely obliterated" - the Dulco Ease advert imagines a weird parallel universe where cosmopolitan women can show each other how urbane they are by openly discussing the amount of uncomfortably solid fecal matter that's wedged up their arses.
In the Dulco Ease advert, the Cynthia Nixon strides back from the toilet and loudly tells the Kim Cattrell that there are all sorts of diamond-hard crap-daggers poking into her guts. Luckily Kim has just the answer - Dulco Ease - and she discreetly informs Cynthia about this by waving a giant box of Dulco Ease around the cafe like some kind of hyperventilating pensioner in a nitrous oxide-filled bingo hall.
A quick "men are a bit like constipated shit-husks" joke - Sex And The City, remember - and the Dulco Ease advert is over, leaving the viewer to pick up the pieces of their now-tattered life. We don't even know if Dulco Ease is very good - we've got Bobby Brown's telephone number, so we guess we'd never need to bother with it.
You know the sort - Jamie Oliver gurning away about how Sainsburys is the best thing in the world, or brundlefly-with-tits Jordan urging you to buy this week's News Of The World as you can read all about how she's shat out another mewling halfwit baby or something.
They're cack, make no mistake about it. Yet sometimes an advert comes along that is so sensationally bad it literally redefines the very concept of awfulness, possibly doing a full 360 degrees and coming out the other side as 'legendary.' Until now hecklerspray had considered shouty cleaning-fluid seller Barry Scott as the king of that particular castle - until we saw this commercial for the 'Montgomery Flea Market.'
Of all the chocolate bars, Snickers never really enjoyed the same ultra-gay reputation as counterparts like Mars Delight and the gone but not forgotten Secret bar - but thanks to a Snickers Super Bowl advert about two blokes snogging, that could change.
Or at least it would change, if only squadrons of gay activists hadn't called for the gay Snickers Super Bowl commercial to be banned forever for being offensive to homosexuals. In the Snickers advert - which we've got for you after the jump - two burly mechanics share an accidental gay Lady And The Tramp-style kiss while sharing a Snickers bar, then attempt to make up for it by yanking out clumps of their own chest hair - and that just isn't acceptable in today's cosmopolitan society, say gay rights organisations. In real life they'd have probably done a bit a rimming first or something.
Take Nicole Richie's predicament, for example. She may have a debilitating eating disorder… but at least she'll fit into that summer bikini just fine. And - hey - just think about good old Michael Barrymore. True, certain allegations may have effectively destroyed his career… but we just bet those pool-cleaning bills are a fraction of what they used to be.
Jack White is also going through a similar ambivalent streak. On the plus side, he's just received a nice shiny cheque for his hard work scoring the latest Coca-Cola commercial… Read the rest of this entry »
It’s a scene we’ve all grown aware of: Ben Affleck - complete with all three of his facial expressions - going about his day getting all kinds of female attention, to be trumped by a lift attendant who smells like a schoolboy.
We’d almost forgotten how much the Lynx ad annoyed us until we saw it at the movies, on a big, inescapable screen. There he is, the smarmy looking guy with his all American good looks, wearing a gooberish smile on his face as he gleefully counts each attractive woman’s curious glance on his clicker.
Ever noticed how it’s always the most preposterous people that have the worst sense of humour?
Slipknot (CDs), a metal band made up of rockers in frightmasks whose stage antics include inhaling the fumes of a liquefied dead bird in a jar until they vomit, are apparently outraged that Burger King might have stolen their image for a series of American commercials.
Lately, the advert industry appears to have started saying that bad manners are OK. First, there was the cripplingly bad KFC ’singing with your mouth full’ campaign that attracted a record number of complaints for saying that stuffing your fat cheeks full of Zinger Burger and howling a tune was OK.
Marks & Spencer have been trying for years to shed their image as purveyors of dowdy yet practical products. They’ve updated their clothing range and switched to free trade foodstuff, but the way in which they’ve finally succeeded in injecting some sex into the brand is through their current TV advertising campaign - a downright erotic promotion of their food range.
The sexy Marks & Spencer advert shows us some chicken. Then the husky female narrator sultrily explains to us that it’s not just chicken. Following a dramatic pause - during which you wonder if it’s also 20% rusk and 10% water - we’re told that it’s actually farm-reared, organic, golden, Wiltshire farm chicken.
That may be, but technically it is still just chicken. It’s not going to solve the problem of world debt and you can’t drive it to Milton Keynes to visit your parents.
If there ever was a luxury car company in need of a serious image overhaul it’s got to be Jaguar (Books).
After introducing an estate model of their furiously popular with the nouveau riche X-Type, the ailing big cats only need to bring out a new over-sixties mobility range and they’ll be less cool than buying a box of Frosties just so you can get the little lightsaber.
During the 60s and 70s Jaguar were a car company synonymous with everything that was fly about polluting the atmosphere. Their cars were big, edgy, looked bloody cool being shot at in gangster films, and most importantly parents hated them. They had the youth factor. You wanted to own an E-Type because it was baddass.
People hate KFC. Really, really hate it. Why? Because their treatment of chickens is exceptionally cruel, with workers in one American plant ripping beaks off live animals and then twisting their heads off? No. Because Mike Skinner tells us to hate them? No. Because their coleslaw is rubbish? No.