Let's get this out the way: I don't much care for Queen. Radio Ga-Ga, Somebody To Love and Under Pressure can go toe-to-toe with any tune out there, but for my money Queen yo-yos between novelty band and embarrassing Dadrock.
But that doesn't mean I approve of the ongoing pillaging of the Queen back catalogue by whoever waves a big enough cheque at whoever holds the rights to what's probably one of the most lucrative bodies of work in Western music. A body of work crammed full of catchy hooks, memorable choruses and quotable lyrics, just waiting for some vast mechanised system to come along and greedily hoover them up and spit them out covered in shit.
In fact - and I'm looking at you Dacia and Flash - it's one of the most egregious things I can think of. Whenever I see these adverts all I can think of is someone gleefully pissing straight in the faces of the people who love this music: the sort of casual disrespect of someone knocking the heads off your daffodils for shits and giggles.
Just image your favourite band's music being forcefully taken up the bum without so much as a smear of vaseline, just so some crap car or chemically pap manages to get a single clawhold in your head in the very unlikely chance that you might vaguely considering buying one (or some).
Those songs that make you smile, make you cry. They might remind you of your cherished childhood, of your first (or lost) love. Schooldays, holidays. Maybe a departed friend or relative. Music is a constant companion and the power of a favoured song by a much-loved band can transcend most other experiences in the right place and right time. We celebrate to it; weep to it. It unites us and allows us to tune into a shred empathy more than perhaps any other experience in life. Music is brilliant and it is beautiful.
And then an advertiser comes along, takes that thing that you love and treasure and turns it against you. Not only is that music roughly wrestled from your grasp, it's perverted and transformed into something awful by advertising. And it's no mistake. Making you hate these adverts isn't some unintentional by-product: it's purely, coldly and cruelly deliberate.
Let's say you open the door to me. I introduce myself and then hand you a tenner, make my farewell and head off into the night. You'd remember that.
Now image that you open the door to me, I introduce myself to you then slap you in the face. Guess which one you'd find more memorable.
Now - and here's what the likes of Flash and Dacia are doing in this metaphor - image I introduce myself to you then explain that I've tattooed Donald Trump's horrible hate-contorted visage on the face of your partner. Imagine when you ask why I would do such a thing I shrug a and say this: "So you'll never gorget the moment when I ruined something you loved forever, just so you'd remember it".
That's what Procter & Gamble did when it Oked this Flash advert. And it's what Renault did when it OKed this Dacia advert. Not because they hate they you, not because they want to ruin music for you.
Because anything and everything that can be used against you - love, hate, fear, insecurity, hope and nostalgia - will be used against you if someone thinks it can be used to sell you something.
I don't have the words for how utterly abysmal both of these adverts are. They're so bad I'm sure it can only be deliberate, because the worse they are the more impactful they are. In this way advertising ensures that, sooner or later, all of our treasured music, films, actors and stories will be chewed up and spat out in the hope of ring-fencing a minute speck of your brain so that, the next time you're in Tesco, some unknown impulse makes you pick up a bottle of chemical detergent and put it into your trolley.
• Hate the Flash Advert? Then strike back on Twitter by using the Flash-designated hashtag and tweeting something insulting, scatalogical or plain foul-mouthed alongside it, such as:
I hate the #Flashdog Flash adverts that use the Queen song and I will never buy any @ProcterGamble products while it's on television
The more swearwords the better, I'd imagine. Good luck.
Where is the Tesco advert son? The words on the lips of literally every man, woman and child in the country. Have Ruth Jones and Ben Miller (NOT Rob Brydon everyone!) killed him? Yes, that is the literally the only explanation. They've killed him and they're renting his room out on AirBnB.
Poor old Will Close (43), the actor in question, was no doubt marched into one of those little rooms in Tesco where shoplifters go and given the bullet. By which I mean they let him go following a pretty vicious shoeing on social media. I'm sure they didn't actually kill him. I mean they wouldn't. Would they?
It's worth pointing out - in answer to a million questions on social media that the son (Freddie) was supposed to represent 'a 'boomerang' child back living with parents in his 20s'. Fair enough. Then again it's also worth pointing out, at the launch of the campaign, Tesco believed there was a 'latent love of the brand' and that it had 'permission to be be funny'. Well, keep trying Tesco because you haven't succeeded thus far.
Anyway, it's fair to say his absence hasn't gone unnoticed. Not in an 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' sort of way either. While viewers were no doubt pleased to see the back of the Inbetweeners-via-80s-sitcom idiot son, it's raised a few eyebrows that his parents haven't even bothered inviting him around for Christmas dinner in the latest set of adverts.
Incidentally, television viewers aren't merely wondering where the 'Tesco son' has got to. No, no. There's all manner of weird and wonderful prefixes being deployed over on Twitter.
What becomes clear very quickly is that lots of people thought the actor too old to be playing the character in questions. And that many thought he was supposed to be cognitively impaired - to the point where one viewer vents his anger of the parents' 'negligence' for 'taking no medical action over their mentally ill son'. And, more prosaically, they hated his guts. Here are just a few examples (for what it's worth I called him a dopey Millennial):
• weird man-child son
• idiot son
• incredibly annoying son
• the twat son
• annoying fuck of a son
• the fucking idiot son
• retarded son
• weird gimp son
• annoying little cunt of a son
And what they said about him:
• Is the son in the Tesco advert mentally challenged?
• I seriously hate the son in the tesco advert
• Would love to hang , draw and quarter that twat from the Tesco advert
• the worst character ever created than an ad agency. Worse than the BT creep.
• The whole weird son thing is unsettling
• worst comedy character of all time
• Is he supposed to be their son with learning difficulties or something? Shocking
• Is the son on the Tesco advert meant to be 'special' or is he an older guy playing someone meant to be younger?
• dont get the new tesco advert is the son backwards or what
• the 'son' is just terrible, & he's about 35?
• is it trying to be funny or does he have a difficulty? Where is his support worker?
• Some of the worst acting I've seen since Simon off corrie
And some theories about what's happened to him:
• killed off
• kicked out
• blatantly murdered
• chained up in the garage
• erased from existence
Finally a prediction for the next Tesco advert:
• Did I miss the Tesco advert where they are discussing the price of pork pies at the wake for their incredibly annoying son?
Now that would make me laugh.