Tittle to the season of good will and peas to all (mushy), it's bloomin' chuffin' Christmas Perfume Advert time.
Run for the hills! Every year the same deluge of naff, pretentious adverts that seem to be advertising everything EXCEPT perfume. Moody, dark, pouting or giggly, playful and girlie, they are all equally craptastic! Arrrggghhhh!
Take this (please. Take it. Away.)
As the ad opens, Ms Stone cuts a fierce figure, strutting her stuff in a striking red dress against a billowing backdrop of fuchsia flames. Afterwards follow close-ups galore of that famous pout and impossibly sharp cheekbones, punctuated with flashes of the model bathed in red light and writhing seductively. Then things really heat up with a stunning explosion of yet more flames which accentuates the models elegant silhouette and smouldering gaze.
Please make it stop! Every single evening the telly seems to be overloaded with them - half the time it's nigh on impossible to tell if the advert is for a watch (hunky hairy male wrist, shirt cuff undone in a devil may care manner), a sports car (throbbing, fast, set against a backdrop of mountains or a deserted black and white cityscape), a dress (billowing, slinky, size 4 at the most) or a bar of chocolate.
As for Brad - well, if a picture speaks a thousand words...
I ended up speaking in the manner of one advert from a few years ago, a very heavy pseudo - French rosbif type of accent. I did it everytime the advert was on - and far too many times when it wasn't! I think (hope) I managed to refrain from doing it in public.
The winner though, simply has to be this Tom Ford classic:
Bring back the days of REAL adverts. Oh yes, you know the ones I mean.