AdWorms: August’s Worst Adverts

I seem to watch less and television these days, so material seems thinner on the ground. Rest assured I remain a frothing lunatic, sitting powerless in front the of the idiot-box at regular intervals, however.

Here’s this month’s equivalent of going to sleep alone in the bodily fluids you just shamefully emitted in search of a listless orgasm.

Sky Sports

Prepare for your brain to start actually atrophying, rotting and farting vile putrescence as your very synapses turn into liquid Haribo, courtesy of Jeff Stelling and his moronic court of yapping jesters spouting endless bullshit about nonsense that doesn’t matter while the world burns.

Boots Number 7

Very little about this advert annoys me. That is, until we get to the last second or so when we get the Boots-patented “Number 7 – Ta Dah!” jingle. I would not have thought it possible that such a meaningless noise – beyond the McDonalds whistle – could enrage me so much, but there it is. The only solace I can find is in the hope that the actor responsible had to do thousands of takes on Ta-Dah! before the idiot-beards in the booth let her collect her fee, like Toast.

Anyway, ad from earlier in the year below. Jingle has remained the same – and probably will forever.

Oak Furniture Land

Oak Furniture Land is, I’m guessing, one of the least exciting lands you could end up in. The way it sounds vaguely like a magical realm – albeit where the only thing of note is that things are made of a particular wood – surely lures in the unsuspecting and the gullible, drawing them into a retail park outside Runcorn that stands as a testament to the fact that – as a race – we’ve fucked it up.

There are a few things that are superficially annoying about this advert, none of which really warrant a lexical spitroasting. It’s the fact that it’s been omnipresent on my television – the channels I watch, anyway – for most of the Summer. It’s as if August is the time to bulk-buy oak: much as Xmas is the time for perfume and toys; Summer, bikinis; Valentine’s Day, johnnies and dildos.

So insistently annoying I’ve kicked several saplings to death in the last four weeks.

Victoria Plumb

If you have a bathroom like an aircraft hangar, you too can croon weirdly to your significant other while the wash their bits. I have a genuine phobia of people singing at me – it weirds me out like nothing else: a mixture of trite, naff and unhinged. That might be why I dislike this advert so much – along with that odd ‘singing-over-a-backing-track’ thing that’s going on here and several other adverts recently.

To quote Tim Bisley: “Fucking… plum!

Vote – August’s Worst Ad

Tell me which you hate the most – or add your own suggestion.

AdWorms: June’s Most Annoying Advert

A deleterious round-up of annoying things designed to make you spend money.


I despise the way that advertising pretends that it’s your friend, when it’s not. Every time adverts make out that they’re on your side, that they’re trying to help or that they wish you well – remind yourself that they want your money and that’s all.

I also hate the way that, as a society, we’ve elevated motherhood to some sort of irreproachable sainthood, as if people haven’t been doing it for millions of years. Well done, you fulfilled your genetic pre-destiny. A generation ago they didn’t make a big deal of it – they just fucking gone on with it without posting pictures of the their kids wearing ironic onesies. Just because – The Office so charmingly put it – you let some useless tosser blow his beans up your muff doesn’t mean I want to hear about it.


Juan Sheet wants to know if Pretty Lady Rachel has ‘got plenty wet’ after seeing his demonstration of absorption. I mean it’s good, but surely it’s not that good? If I’m honest I quite like this.

Gladstone Brookes

Ambulance-chasers: The Next Generation: Fuck off.


I just think this is a complete misfire; an embarrassing mistake that Apple hasn’t quite recognised. Nice idea, maybe, but an utterly hideous disaster that seems to leave people baffled, insulted or simply very irritated by turn.

Go, you chicken fuck, go.