We Need to Talk About The Kevin Bacon EE Adverts

Kevin Bacon EE Adverts

The Kevin Bacon EE Adverts weren’t always a problem. The idea of him riffing off the 7 Degrees Of Separation meme – ‘you want to be as connected as me?’ – and referencing provincial British television series and characters was winning. It didn’t yell in your face, it wasn’t pointlessly weird and it was pretty engaging. I even considered covering these original ads in an ‘adverts I like’ post. Then I probably decided I couldn’t be bothered.

But like most adverts they’ve thoroughly outstayed their welcome. Bacon now behaves not like a supercool movie star who you could actually have a pint with, but a creepy uncle who resembles a weasel’s skeleton with an overbite that could open a tin of beans from across the road.

I’ve nothing against Bacon but the guy’s about 77 years old and pretending to be down with the kids, even if he’s sending himself up in a red latex jumpsuit when he looks like a deflated molerat, is all kinds of horrible.

“How about a bit of Bay?” How about a bit of ‘fuck off with your shit music, mate’?

Britney Spears has a new album out? And? The sort of people who give a flying one about Apple Music on their new £800 smartphone are either intense 40-year-old graphic designers or people whose parents weren’t even born when Britney was a sexy schoolgirl. And that desperate ‘put my new one on?’. Ergh.

And just look at this parade of footy people joining ‘Kev’ in slurping on fat corporate cock. Horrible.

No, Bacon has jumped the shark. The pork has vaulted the piscine. It’s back to your wilderness years of straight-to-video horror films, listless sequels and roles as the ‘weird old one’ in shortlived American sitcoms. Always waiting for the axe to fall, a mere five episodes in.

Yes it’s a hard life for 80s movie stars. Between the botox, the teeth-whitening and endless nutribullets – a grisly portrait of ghastly Hollywood ageing – there’s only Kevin Bacon EE Adverts to look forward to. That or the raddled red-carpet appearances of old-age – or a crossdressing death in a speedball motel room anyway. Ho hum.