Jacamo Advert 2019: Own Your Moment

Jacamo advert 2019

“Jacamo is for fat bastards”

This is a search phrase that repeatedly led readers to this blog, back in the day when it was possible to measure such things. And perhaps it is; Jacamo has never shied away from deviating from the norm when it comes to body shapes – and I’ve no truck with that.

But whether that was ever true or not, that was certainly the perception. And that’s not all. Jacamo has been a byword for cheap, mainly bad clothes made for gangs of deeply unfashionable men who skipped straight from their Mums buying their clothes to “that looks OK” online clothes shopping. In this way I guess it performs a vital public service for men theoretically old enough to live independently but not sufficiently decrepit to be on the radars of any age-related charities.

The recruitment of Andrew Flintoff – a good cricketer who has enjoyed a bafflingly successful television career, mainly by virtue of apparently being a cheaper Paddy McGuinness – or being a noted purveyor of dressing-room banter, evinced by his pained friendship with Robbie “Sav” Savage – did little to convince that Jacamo customers were not the sort of people sustained by a diet of chicken takeaways, whey protein and Jeremy Clarkson books.

Jacamo advert 2019

And now this. Men doing men things. Count ‘em: playing the guitar; having tattoos and facial hair; going to the football… my guess would be that you’ve hit about 90% of Jacamo’s audience with that particular hit-list of homogenous demographic traits. Factor in a Ladbrokes app on their phones and you’d expect smashed the jackpot to laddish smithereens.

And buying your wedding clobber from Jacamo? The pathos is almost unbearable – like buying a Festive Bake for your Christmas dinner or sending a Page 3 girl a Valentine’s card.

As it is we get to see these absolute chiefs walking into a church wearing various shades of washed-out colours like a packet of Refreshers, having psyched themselves up appropriately to “own their moments”.

I tire of this apparently inexhaustible drive to make us imbue every second of our lives with almost unbearable importance. In an age where we are literally driving ourselves to mental ill health because of our fear of missing out, sentiments like this are like pouring petrol on a particularly dumb bonfire made of fast fashion, grilled sauce-smothered chicken and Instagram filters.

Jacamo advert 2019

I urge you to reject this concept of owning the moment – or even a shitty, lavender-coloured v-neck vest. Enjoy the moment instead. It’s perfectly possible to do so without getting into the zone before a fictional gig, like you never do anyway; cheer on the terraces of a sparsely-populated and mysteriously cosmopolitan football match, like no one ever does; or head into a waiting church full of people for an imaginary wedding looking like the interior of a 1990s hospital waiting room – as if you’re a bunch of extras from Hollyoaks.

I’d like to lay ‘Jacamo is for fat bastards’ to rest once and for all – because there’s nothing wrong with being fat, after all. And being a bastard these days is pretty much par for the course.

Jacamo advert 2019

But judging by the desperate need for approval, instant gratification – not to mention acting and dressing like everyone else – Jacamo is certainly for sad bastards.

Buy an old pair of cords from a charity shop. Go for a walk. Head to the pub with a friend you haven’t seen for a while. Eat a cream horn. Deactivate your account. Have a really big, guilt-free wank.

There’s a healthier prescription for life in the 21st Century – and you can’t buy it online.

Tom Hiddleston Centrum Advert

Needless to say, this rumination on the context to a new Tom Hiddleston Centrum Advert is pure fiction. Or is it?

Tom Hiddleston Centrum advert

“Ah, another day begins! Looks nice out. Hope Tom Hiddleston isn’t downstairs making us breakfast again!

“Just patter down these tasteful stairs and… oh God. How did he get in again this time? The locks changed, the bars on the windows…

“Is it too late to run upstairs and grab the Mace – or even jump from a first-floor window? Probably break our ankles but… shit! Tom Hiddleston’s seen us. Better play along or Tom Hiddleston’ll get angry. And cry. And start wanking too probably – like last time.

“Fuck! Tom Hiddleston’s got a fucking knife. OK. Stay calm…

“‘Heyyyyyyy!’ to you too, you fucking sicko. Jesus, will Tom Hiddleston ever leave us alone?

“‘Pop back and make you breakfast…?’ Christ, Tom Hiddleston really is nuts. Wonder how he escaped from prison this time. And how did he find us?

“What’s that Tom Hiddleston’s got on that plate? A fried egg on top of vegetables and fruit? Pretty fucking weird – but at least it’s not Tom Hiddleston’s own severed toes with a sprinkling of Tom Hiddleston’s pubes like last time.

“Pepper on top? Whatever you say. Best to not upset Tom Hiddleston. Wait – there’s probably crushed-up sleeping pills or Rohypnol in this stuff. Better pretend to eat while secretly feeding it to the dog.

“The dog… where is the dog? Wait, the knife. The knife in Tom Hiddleston’s hand. Oh God…

“Maybe that’s why Tom Hiddleston’s looking so regretful – almost like he’s trying to apologise for something…

“Shit, listen to what Tom Hiddleston is saying – he gets upset when we don’t play along. Just pretend to be Tom Hiddleston’s wife and listen very carefully to what Tom Hiddleston is-.

“What the fuck? Is Tom Hiddleston speaking Chinese? Shit – this is new. Do we have to pretend to be Chinese now?

Tom Hiddleston Centrum advert

“Centrum, what’s that? Probably best not swallow whatever that is or we’ll be waking up in a cellar dressed in leather chaps and chained to a wall again.

“Jesus, the way Tom Hiddleston keeps rubbing his hands like he’s Lady Macbeth – and that furrowed brow. And those eyes – eyes that have seen too much. Those hands that have closed around so many elegant young necks…

“‘A bit busy for the next few weeks’. Oh God, what’s Tom Hiddleston got planned? Something involving saws and scalpels probably. For weeks. Where’s Tom Hiddleston going to take us?”

“Wait, is Tom Hiddleston going? OK this is our one chance to get Tom Hiddleston out of here. Just play along with Tom Hiddleston’s twisted domestic bliss fantasy and we might just get out of this alive.

“Mess about with Tom Hiddleston’s collar a bit – it will soothe his murderous sexual desires. Could we gouge Tom Hiddleston’s eyes out while his defences are down? Maybe crush Tom Hiddleston’s windpipe?

No, no – his bloody, eyeless face twisted in a mask of hatred as he rages, sightless, around the kitchen swiping with that carving knife is too horrible to contemplate. He looks calm. We just have to get Tom Hiddleston outside the door and we’re safe…

“Tom Hiddleston’s… Tom Hiddleston’s actually going. Argh, he’s reaching back to drag us out of the house, into the back of his blood-soaked pick-up, away from the lovely house and safety!

“What the fuck? Tom Hiddleston’s actually gone?!

“We’re safe! Safe from the sex dungeon, safe from the needy passive aggression of his twisted psyche! Safe from the endless degrading acts Tom Hiddleston makes us carry out to satisfy his perverted desires!

“Finally safe from Tom Hiddleston!”

Watch: Tom Hiddleston Centrum advert

Tom Hiddleston Centrum Advert