Spooner on...the unimportance of being earnest at Xmas

Brighton, North Laine three in the morning. Discarded Chai Oat Latte cups and rejected Expressive Dance Studio flyers skitter along the filthy pavement in the bitter wind ‘like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing’. A gaggle of pink and orange-clad hipsters passes me shrieking, giggling and cavorting to the tinny, bass-less sounds of Tyler The Creator emerging from the latest Samsung Galaxy.

On I trudge, wearied by a long, long day of toil in Lord McKelvey’s JUNK MINES, proofing 7-point coupon disclaimer copy and Ts&Cs for one of the old moneybags’ many ‘Financial Services Instruments (Subsection 14, Paragraph 127, McKelvey Enterprises LLB accepts no responsibility for conscious, subconscious or unconscious participation in this agreement and refutes all suggestions that it is a ‘Glorified Ponzi Scheme’).

Something grey and spindly flits just outside my increasingly limited field of vision as I turn down the street that leads to my central yet secluded hovel.

I fumble in my holey pockets for the precious latchkey and hundreds of gulls suddenly take to the air screaming obscenities at each other as they wheel into the orange sky. I open the door and glance at the doorknocker which, momentarily, seems to take on the shape of Lord McKelvey’s cruel yet handsome visage.

I stagger into the old stable and am immediately overwhelmed by the powerful aroma of gardenias. Before I can reach for the light switch something begins to manifest at the top of the stairs. Fizzing, popping and shuddering, it is a giant figure in a fur coat wreathed in garlands of fresh King Charles Tenners, wearing a crown of gold, spray-painted fake antlers and an unconvincing yet luxuriantly flowing, snowy-white beard.

I cringe in obeisance, knowing full well that the hologram is one of Lord McKelvey’s many ‘pranks’ that have brought him millions of TikTok followers.

“HO HO BASTARD HO!” it boomed, “I AM THE GHOST OF XMAS PRESENT FOR YOUR PAST IS DEAD AND YOU HAVE NO FUTURE! HO HO! LIKE A PATHETIC PRINCESS IN SOME GHASTLY TEUTONIC FAIRYTALE, I CONDEMN YOU TO COMPLETE THE TASK I SET YOU BEFORE DAWN OR TO BE DRAGGED DOWN INTO SOME APPROPRIATELY CRONENBERGY HELL OF MY DEVISING! HO HO BASTARD HO! SEVEN TELEVISION COMMERCIALS SHALL YOU REVIEW AND RANK, TO MY SATISFACTION, BEFORE AURORA’S ROSY FINGERS TICKLE THE WINTER GLOOM INTO LIGHT AND YOUR PATHETIC EFFORTS SHALL BE IN MY INBOX BEFORE I HAVE FINISHED MY FIRST MORNING PINT OF VEUVE CLIQUOT! HA HA! HO HO! HA HA!” It vanished with a loud pop leaving the room lit only by the flashing email notification on my ancient laptop.

Sunrise seems like some distant dream.

Yet on we go.

Number 7 Boots

At number seven with a Judge’s Brighton Belle award for inclusivity and Farage-bothering

Bridgerton star Adjoa Andoh and social media influencers including @soph and @snatchedbywill star in this spectacular-spectacular Luhrman-lite extravaganza created by VML (which is what I think my old agency Y&R are called these days).

‘Make magic!’ we are told. Santa is snoring so Mrs Xmas (Andoh) must step into the breach and ensure that everyone in the world receives delightful Boots beauty products as Xmas gifts. A well-drilled team of fashionable elves and drag artists toils balletically to select and wrap the ghastly tat. The deadline is met, no thanks to the festive patriarch and we are left with the line ‘You thought it was all him?’.

Santa’s workshop is convincingly realised and Andoh is a commanding presence but, oh dear, the below the line pile-on is a sight to behold. You thought the Jaguar Concept Launch had caused controversy? Pah! Middle England is howling with rage at the ‘wokification’ of a ‘beloved national institution’.

According to Chrome, after 12 days it has received 3.2K likes and 21K dislikes. As usual, the rage is inarticulate, partly because rage so often is – but also because even Middle England hates to openly express its racism and homophobia. Hobbled by its own worthiness, one hopes it will appeal to the enlightened young people it is pointed at. If not, as thousands of the haters say ‘Great ad! (dramatic pause) for Superdrug!’

Number 6 Aldi

My number six with a special mention for digital skillz – for the umpteenth time it’s bloody Kevin The Sodding Carrot in a Mission Impossiblish operation to save the Spirit Of Xmas who has been kidnapped by the evil Yule-hating Humbugs. I am not making this up.

I am unsure why my heart sinks so low at the annual resurrection of this ‘cheeky yet noble’ vegetable hero, but it does. I think it is something to do with the hokey rhyming couplets that copywriters half-remembering, as copywriters so often do, ‘A Visit From St Nicholas’ by Clement Clarke Moore and probably also the studied Dad-joke lameness of the punning cultural references, but it’s mainly, I think, the fact that even McCann themselves must have been astonished when the client bought the concept in the first place – and, here we are, years later, enduring the latest manifestation of a half-arsed, post-pub, half thought. Still, lovely food shots throughout, so there’s that…

Number 5 Sainsbury’s

In at five with a delumptious woosh…

New Commercial Arts, of whom I know nothing, are the Sainsbury’s incumbent agency and, therefore, I assume, responsible for this dreadful nonsense. It seems that most agencies when seeking ‘emotional connection’ default to infantile piffle and this is no exception to that rule.

Nasty antisemite and all-round racist Roald Dahl’s Big Friendly Giant is wheeled out here in a CGI cheese-dream that only the family of ‘Sophie’ our Sainsbury’s protagonist could love – as we are urged to ‘go big this Xmas’. The heart sinks as well it might. Somewhere in the brief, the conscientious planner has written ‘demonstrate Sainsbury’s commitment to sustainable producers’ and so off we must galumph to a salmon fishery, a vegetable farm and a cheesery in the BFG’s Gladstone bag to collect the only three requirements for a sccrumdiddlyumptious Xmas chow-down. If you weren’t feeling bilious already, the seventh or eighth viewing of this atrocity will have you scrambling for your Alka-Seltzer. ‘How is it in number five then, Spoon?’ you may ask. Well, I enjoyed the pre-BFG verité scene in the Sainsbury’s car park, that’s how. Onward!

Number 4 John Lewis

Halfway through and I must say I am weary of the struggle. No matter! In at a sparky number four is Xmas Ad Review stalwart John Lewis with this confused mish-mash of an execution designed to enrage the Gregg Wallaces of this world.

Careful as we must quite rightly be when tiptoeing around the sensibilities of ‘middle-class women of a certain age’, I must say that I hate this almost as much as previous, more egregiously heart-string-tugging JLP Xmas efforts.

Elegant woman struggles to find gift for sister (?), daughter (?) – but luckily stumbles across a Narnia portal among the racks at John Lewis and is whisked on a panicky, emotional journey through the past (future?) of her relationship with said sister/daughter – only to find a nicely wrapped 7” cube-gift that we never see. Up comes the title ‘The secret to the perfect Xmas gift? Knowing where to look!’ So, if in doubt, look in your Fleabaggy memories of your sibling/offspring via a time-travelling gateway in the Ladies’ Separates section of John Lewis. I hope that’s clear.

Number 3 Waitrose

I rely on Lord McKelvey’s elves to substantiate these things but believe that this is only the second Waitrose Xmas ad since the account moved to Saatchi & Saatchi – and it’s in at number three!

Lots of excellent character actors that I can’t be troubled to Google are gathered for the Xmas feast and we are plunged in media res into the zero-jeopardy Poirot-ish denouement of a frankly meaningless plot to steal and scoff a weird-looking pudding from the new Waitrose Number 1 range of spendy treats.

What little veracity the gamely gurning thesps are able to muster is entirely blown, from my POV at least, by the fact that the crime is discovered because the Waitrose packaging in the fridge has been left empty. Speaking as a middle-class person I know that the first task of the cheating host/hostess is to recycle the packaging before anyone can clock that the food being presented to them is, shudder, shop-bought. I liked the cat though, hence number three.

Number 2 Tesco

I have always had a soft spot for BBH with whom I shared the One2One account in the 1990s, not least because of a brief dalliance (between marriages. I hasten to add) with an exquisite account director, way above my pay-grade. Sigh. This may have influenced me in awarding the latest Tesco ad the coveted number two slot.

‘Helping feed your Christmas spirit’. That is the claim. Helping ensure that CGI providers are the only ones celebrating in Soho this Xmas, more like. This is a confused mess of an execution trying to be the heart-warming tale of an honest working man hoping to help his widowed grandfather celebrate Xmas despite the aching void that grandma’s death has left in their lives.

This is all well and good, but the ad is promptly hijacked by the CGI enthusiasts turning everything into gingerbread: hair, foxes, children, hand-held PlayStation consoles, pubs, front doors, they all succumb to the disturbing gingerbread virus and therefore distract from the cockle-warming narrative upon which we are encouraged to concentrate. Hero and grandad construct gingerbread house, grief is ameliorated, all is well. Become gingerbread and you may manage to get through Xmas too!

Number 1 Morrison’s

I am delighted to announce that this year’s Decision Marketing Xmas Ad Review Ad Of The Year As Selected By An Elderly Creative Person is Leo Burnett’s unashamedly and successfully populist commercial for Morrison’s supermarket.

Firstly, for the music! Give A Little Love, a gem from the musical treasure trove that is 70s film classic Bugsy Malone! (I am surprised that this is the first time in my recollection that the trove has been ransacked by ruthless advertising creative types.)

Secondly for the loving CGI tribute to stop-frame animation. There is a charm to stop-frame that has always moved me. Think of ‘No Buts It’s Got To Be Butter’ or the lovely Cravendale Cows! Think of the billions generated by Aardman! Now marvel at the animated oven0gloves that sing-and-sort-of-dance their way through this masterly light entertainment show-stopper.

Positively hokey in a way that the stolen couplets of Kevin The Sodding Carrot can never be – surely we have all animated an oven-glove or a sock, haven’t we? Think of Ramsbottom the snake from The Sooty Show! Think of him! And the ad moves seamlessly from a kitchen that showcases the delicious things you can get from Morrisons (really?) to a Busby Berkeley style whirligig of prawn cocktails and knickerbocker glories! There’s even room for smiling Morrison’s staff members! (As an aside. Why does almost every one of these commercials have a large baked fish in it? Dietary nudge” Tribute to our friends from the Eastern European diaspora? Who knows?)

Anyhow, there’s a lesson for us all in the Morrison’s ad, and that lesson is that Xmas is not a time for yanking on the heart strings, nor for pursuing a worthy agenda, it is a time for getting pissed and being silly. This silly ad points the way away from the earnestness of the last few years’ Xmas ads towards a better, sillier world where Morecambe & Wise will forever prance. I salute it!

Jonathan Spooner is consulting creative director at Spoon Creative

Spooner on…the unimportance of being earnest at Xmas

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