This Secret Escapes advert can be summed up thus, by the reactions of my housemate over a few days of seeing this ad, which seems to be on at least four times every ad break:
• Who's she? She is fit. She is beautiful. I bet she's filthy.
• She is a stunner. I think I like the bit in the middle best.
• Oh, I love that girl. Actually she looks nicest when she's lying on the bed.
• Is this advert on again? I still would, mind.
• This advert has been on so much I don't fancy her any more.
So, there you have it. Love at first sight to disinterest within the lifespan of a television advert. That's less impressive than a mayfly's pitiful lifecycle but we should hardly be surprised when something we see a hundred times loses its lustre. Were Boris Johnson to vomits rubies directly into the Queens face it might be the most-watched thing ever. After the 35th time the chances are you wouldn't be quite as impressed. After 100? You wouldn't bat an eyelid.
Will Secret Escapes mind? Of course not. With companies like this who don't offer a product, unique service or anything that isn't easily copied and replicated, the market is crammed with competitors. How do you tell if one is better than another? You don't. The quality of service, the scope of the hotels on offer, the prices available. If there is any difference between them it's impossible to discern. So how else to advertise yourself?
You make yourself unavoidable. You burrow your way into viewer's heads like a parasitic wasp on a spider's back. You make yourself unavoidable, inescapable and you hope people write blogs about you. If you have an attractive, posh girl whispering sweet nothings its can't hurt either. Welcome to the Secret Escapes advert.
Carpet-bombing with a fit girl. Carpet-girl bombing. She's called Camilla Arfwedson if you're interested. And, Camilla, if you're reading I reckon my mate would still be happy to take you out for a date.