If you dance while you're cooking I have some alarming news for you. You don't exist.
I know that's a shock to the system and you probably didn't see it coming, but I'm afraid you and your entire family don't exist, apart from in the minds of some people who live within a mile of the DLR and work in advertising.
You were dreamed up as a way of convincing people that cooking needs to be attached to some other act to make it more exciting. Like CarFucking or SleepLearning or BathEating - because we're all too busy to do anything properly and anything we're compelled to do must be matched with some sort of aspirational leisure pursuit.
This is important because boring old food and stupid old cooking is insufficiently interesting to hold the attention of literally anyone these days. So #FoodDancing has been invented.
That's where you come in, #FoodDancer, and it's why you were dreamed up to fulfil a creative brief whose aim is to convince people to buy more kale, sausage rolls and Activia yoghurt.
But fear not, soon there will be real people who dance while cooking. So you can take some solace that your non-existence had some meaning. Soon you will be joined by, ooh, about 30 people who upload shaky portrait-orientated videos of them dancing stupidly while stirring a curry.
Those people will upload their videos to Youtube, Facebook, Snapchat or Instagram with the hashtag #FoodDancing. And somewhere in London some people will make a note of this and make a PowerPoint then show it to someone who works at Sainsbury's who, in turn, will hand over a cheque for three million pounds.
So you see, while I understand that this is existentially terrifying for you, your non-existence wasn't in vain. As you dissolve in nothingness try to be comforted by the fact that your fleeting life wasn't completely wasted. And you inspired a vast social movement that encouraged people to fail around their kitchens as a Sainsbury's read-meal slowly rotates in a microwave.
What Sainsbury's says
Filmed in real kitchens all across Britain, this captures people experiencing the simple pleasure of dancing whilst cooking. Whatever your particular style of dancing, however you like to cook, that moment when you’re sizzling and jiggling away to a tune, that’s living well.
Sainsbury's worked with UK Hip Hop artist MysDiggi, who incidentally had his first job at Sainsbury’s, to create a bespoke track and music video showcasing Britain Food Dancing.
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.