McDonald’s Punk Advert: Crimes Against Music

mcdonald's punk advert

You know what the least punk thing in the world is? McDonald’s. You know what the second least punk thing in the world is? This McDonald’s punk advert.

Food isn’t very punk fundamentally, despite the best effort of Gary Rhodes’ hair. Piercing your skin with unsterilised needles is punk. Spitting at your favourite band is punk. Starting a band in a garage, even though you can’t really play is punk. Fighting is punk. Al fresco blowjobs behind youth clubs are a bit punk. Underage smoking, abusing drugs, flirting with extreme political views and vomiting on old ladies – all punk.

It’s hard to think of anything that chimes less with punk’s rebellious, alt, DIY ethic than a global multinational repurposing animals into the kind of sugary, salty discs fast-food joints laughingly refer to as food. When I look at the cover of Never Mind The Bollocks… I don’t instinctively think “I’d like to eat a Big Mac”. Likewise, when I see a McFlurry I don’t go and sniff glue on a double-decker bus.

When I listen to the Buzzcocks I don’t equate that music with visiting a drivethru alongside the sort of people who bundle up all the plastics and cardboard containing their high-calorie gak and throw it out the window. Although McDonalds’ awe-inspiring contribution to the amount of filth on British streets does have a vague ring of 1977 about it.

I have visited McDonald’s restaurants on about ten occasions in my entire life and I don’t intend to add to that tally. Never have I seen a member of staff resemble anything like a model from Suicide Girls, although the co-opting of punk, grunge and goth by massive online brands pretending they give a fuck about tattoos, burlesque, beards and loud music seems to be what passes for rebellion amongst today’s youth, irrespective of the fact that covering yourself in tattoos and making your ears look like well-chewed gum is just about the most conformist thing you can do in 2016.

mcdonald's punk advert pepperjack shit

Even culture’s most alarming, atavistic, nihilistic movements get repackaged by rich white people and sold back to an unsuspecting generation of youngsters, flushed with hormones and keen to fit in. Today’s teens, despite displaying the same outward fashions as their 1977 forbears, are much more likely to obediently spend their cash at a Maccies while Instagramming a pic of their slurry-in-a-bap rather than brick it, more’s the pity.

McDonald’s punk advert

Anyway, the advert itself. Why is the British teen equivalent of Ralph Malph sat in a Capri with his Dad visiting McDonald’s. Would you be seen dead visiting a drive-thru with your Dad? And why a blingy Ford Capri? It’s not in any way punk. Give me a clapped-out purple Austin Allegro and we’ll talk. Why can’t he speak? Why would anyone in their right minds eat pepperjack cheese – a material closer to plastic-coated vomit than food? What does punk have to do with a mass-market product called The Peri-Peri Chicken One, like it’s an episode out of Friends. And why shit all over The Buzzcocks?

So many questions are posed by this McDonald’s punk advert. The lingering one in my head – as ever – is what on earth people are thinking when they choose to actually hand over money for this shite in McDonald’s.

What do you get? Diabetes with an impacted bowel thrown into the bargain.

Galaxy Duet Advert: Crimes Against Music

See the Galaxy Duet advert. See its fearlessly multicultural cast. Appreciate its mixture of classic and contemporary; refined and urban. Feel its effortlessly transcendent musical symbiosis. Tremble as everything you know is turned on its head. There is only pre-Galaxy Duet advert and post-Galaxy Duet advert now. Can anything ever be the same again?

I ate a whole Galaxy bar once. My university flatmates had perceived that I was in a very bad mood and bought me a 400g bar of the stuff. I may have been giving up smoking at the time – or I may have just been in a really foul mood. Either way I ate all of it in one go. 14 fucking portions of Galaxy chocolate in a sitting. Sickly sweet though it was – like a Mellow Birds version of chocolate – I was a bit more chipper after that.

galaxy duet advert

There’s no real reason for telling that story, beyond the fact that it’s my only direct experience of Galaxy. But for about 30 seconds it took my mind off the debilitating noise from this Galaxy Duet advert, apparently voiced by a lady named Chanele McGuinness and a man rejoicing in the unlikely sobriquet of Bxnjamin. How do you pronounce that? I mean if you’re Prince you can get away with a symbol; if you’re the guy off the Galaxy Duet advert there are going to be a lot of people asking how to pronounce your name.

“You know, Bxnjamin.”


“Off of the Galaxy Duet advert. You know, Bxnjamin…”

“You mean Benjamin?”

“…yeah, ok, Benjamin.”

I always feel a bit mean having a pop at people who are probably only trying to make a bit of cash and a name for themselves. But if you star in a choclatier’s horrible advert and are actively defacing a song most people recognise as rather beautiful you might as well go on Britain’s Got Talent and openly insult the audience for being the braying, Cowell-worshipping morons they patently are.

This is yet another advert where I simply refuse to believe that virtually everyone involved knows it’s absolutely dreadful. Everyone on Youtube thinks it’s awful (it’s telling that comments are disabled); everyone on Twitter hates it. Funnily enough there are people on Facebook who don’t hate it, then again Facebook is awash with Britain First, Vote Leave and Boris Johnson Legend! groups, so what do they know?

Galaxy Duet advert on Twitter

galaxy duet advert