Tuesday, 3 August 2010

Dixons show Saatchi's who's boss

Remember these ads? Oooh, didn't adland grab hold of its scrawny dink-donk and give it a good frot over them?

Widely regarded as brilliant, everyone fucked on about how well written they were, how the concept was simple and clever at the same time, how they were fundamentally linked to the client's essential proposition. A brilliant example of advertising at its best, they all said.

Well, it looks like the client knows best. They're calling a pitch.

I think they've got it bang on. There's only one way to respond to a successful, critically-acclaimed campaign.

Find a new agency.

Why? Obvious, innit. Everyone's talking about fucking Saatchis. Nobody's talking about the client. And why would that client want people talking about his or her (but let's be honest, probably his) agency?

To be honest, if I was the client, I'd be fucking livid. How dare they? How fucking dare they increase sales with ads people actually want to look at? What the fuck were they thinking?

I'll make it simple for the agency boys, so they hear it loud and clear: if you increase sales with horrible ads, everyone blames the agency and the client gets a bonus. If the agency increases sales with brilliant ads, everyone congratulates the agency then the client gets fired because, well, it was all the agency, wasn't it? The lesson: don't do ads anybody likes and everyone wins.

Saatchis must be kicking themselves. Doing good ads? Fucking amateurish.

Anyway, I must dash. I've got to brief my agency on an ad that needs to go tonight. I've also got a four-hour lunch planned, which I'll be doing first.

Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!


  1. The only people who comment on my blog are oriental internet robots. This, to me, proves that no human can add anything to what I'm writing.

  2. I've got a fuckton too...want to swap? At least yours are philosophical

  3. Dave.

    I just aggregated all your planner posts for a planner friend and laughed great rivers of tears.

    Thank you.