So Long Ago, So Clear: ITV (Border) adverts April 12th 1996
From Stuart Kenny, an ad break from 1996 during a doubtlessly time-filling broadcast of an American TV movie on Border. It's A Son's Promise and it's the true story of a 15-year old boy who has to raise his siblings on his own because he done swore to mom on her deathbed that he would. Starring Ricky Schroeder, post-Silver Spoons and growing into a strapping young assclown.
The first advert seems pretty appropriate for the kind of person who might be deliberately watching this sort of thing: a Carpenters compilation. It's not actually the first such - there was a best-of that only came out in Australia and obviously there was a gargantuan one that came out minutes after Karen died, but as the voiceover says, this is the first one to fit on a single CD. And LP and cassette. It would fit even better if they'd left off their version of Jambalaya on the Bayou. That was a bad idea.
Videro games! One of those two-player games where you take your turn, so not a two-player game at all really. Still, this kid's got a pot of fromage frais to occupy him while the fat kid's playing. And somehow, through the power of advertising, that pot acts as a conduit to Tronify him into the game itself, where he becomes sub-sub-Toy Story CGI along with some giant anthropomorphic fruits, because it's a Munch Bunch advert! God knows what Angela Mitford made of it. Remember Pot Shots and the pool-hall set advert for them, with the fruits helping a kid cheat at straight 14.1 rack, and rather disappointingly yelling "yo" at the end? It was incredibly successful, apparently - unsurprising at it seems to have been shown over and over again on every CITV break for three to four years, so the only choice for the consumer would be to embrace it or go mad. This thing would appear to be the follow-up, which is impressive in actually managing to be even more charmless. So much for the Munch Bunch renaissance.
Next: marge. Ian Holm proudly announces that the very firstest of all Flora London Marathons is being held in just over a week, and it's for the British Heart Foundation and everything! The advert definitely wants to imply that this is a completely new thing in all respects, despite the marathon having had corporate sponsorship since the very first one in 1981 (Gillette) and official charities of the year since 1986, including the BHF four times. This was the first of those four, to be fair. All shot in a lovely buttery gold to subliminally enhance the idea of margarine in your head. The Marathon used to be a springtime fixture, until the plague knocked the 2020 edition into October, and now it's stuck there.
Have some zeitgeist. Bright colours, brighter lights, bouncing text in ragged fonts and mixed cases, meaningless phrases, Britpop soundtrack - not just any Britpop, but "Alright" by Supergrass for heaven's sake - hyperkinetic editing, lens flare, piss-all chance of discerning what's actually going on. Fashion! Make-up, specifically. There are no limits, not even common sense.
Next, a montage of things with names for them. Like Westminster Clock Tower, which I think everyone's just given up on being called "Big Ben" after the bell it houses. Or the mouth organ, also known as a French harp. Sometimes. Or an Orudis Blampfortt rose. Or a rainbow trout, which is apparently quite tasty with hollandaise sauce - that being the ultimate point of the exercise. It's for Crosse & Blackwell, you see. Quite what the nomenclature whimsy has to do with anything I'm not sure, but enjoy an avuncular Peter Serafinowicz anyway.
SUITE MADNESS. NGT Homeworld are going to take this two ugly sofas and beat them to death with their bare hands. Oh, wait, it's not that kind of madness, they're just going to sell them to you for fifty quid less than they were going to. Doesn't seem particularly mad to me, but there we are. There's also some even uglier ones with even greater price reductions, although they're still more expensive.
Easter holidays! Why not come to this theme park up the road? It's full of dizzying quantel effects and camerawork and surly-looking boys giving thumbs-up on rollercoasters even though they look like they'd rather be setting fire to a bin in Townhead or having a knife-fight with Southdeen Young Team. It's still there now, and recovering from a dicey few years where their rollercoasters kept falling apart and injuring people. They're better now, they swear, the people who ran it back then are long gone.
Finally, by way of a tribute, another best-of compilation - this time of dead bearded Greek Vangelis, an enormously talented composer who found a compromise between the art-ponciness of Jean-Michelle Jarre and the commercial sensibilities of a Harald Faltermeyer. Portraits (So Long Ago, So Clear) isn't necessarily the best introduction to his work (too much Jon Anderson, no Blade Runner), but it's got most of the important stuff and is definitely more accessible than 666 by Aphrodite's Child. Do it!