Right, I should say from the off, even before you start typing:

“It’s hardly the worst advert on TV, is it Silky you shithead?”

I’m being more pedantically critical of this advert than I would be off, let’s say, The Gadget Helpline advert.

And I’m allowed to as well.

Not only because I’m the one mashing the keyboard with my fists eawmfwldkrewal, kdsaq d,kfr[rsu,erxc but because this advert is in a different league to, let’s say, Moonpig, in terms of production quality. I’d even go as far as saying someone actually thought about what was going to be in it before they started filming it.

I like to think of it as the difference between criticising a West End play and a primary school Nativity play. One is performed by attention seeking egomaniacs and the other is a West End play etc.

Anyways, where was I?

Ah, yes this Budweiser advert:

I really, really want to like this advert. I think it’s got a great (Warning: hippyish meaningless bollocks about to be typed) *feel* about it. I think it’s filmed nicely and that Colonel Parker/Sanders fella sure does talk funny in it.

But, but, but… I really, really hate the use of a modern band covering a “love to hate it” track as the way they depict dedication.

This probably stems from my hatred of bands that appear on Radio 1′s Live Lounge and *ironically* cover old tracks through a sneer. Bands that have names that mean less than nothing (read: that I just don’t get) like Vampire Weekend, Conjunctivitis Photocopier and Erectile Disco Function.

Bands that introduce the track with an underplayed and thoroughly unenthusiastic: “Here’s one that you might recognise.”.

Yeah, you’re damned right I’ll recognise it because it’s catchier, better written and has sold more copies then anything you’ll ever do, you self-satisfied, contemptuous cunt.

So maybe this advert is quite so scornful of the song it covers but it’s still trading on the hilarious irony of using Popcorn.

It’s been done before and it wasn’t funny then and it’s not funny now.

No, surely they could have thought of a funnier, more original way to depict dedication.

You know, like maybe if they rehearsed loads for a gig at a theme park only to find out that a puppet show was above them on the play list. Now that’s funny and surely no-one’s thought of it before?

OK, as I’ve admitted before, it’s easier to slag something off than it is to create something, but I just don’t find this idea in the slightest but amusing.

I told you it was pedantically critical…

I’ve mentioned previously that I’m not the biggest fan of the fashion industry. And anyone who’s seen the way I dress will tell you it’s true.

No, to me, fashion is the 10lb floater in the public toilets of modern life. Even the smell of fashion makes me retch if I get within, let’s say, ooh, 10 feet of it.

And that’s standing upwind.

But some people like the smell. In fact they love it. And they like the feeling too.

So they dip their hands in the bowl and smear the fashion turd all over their bodies. God it makes them feel so good, it’s almost sexual. It’s kind of like covering your body in fashion chocolate sauce except it’ll give you fashion hepatitis when you lick it off.

And when I see these people walking down the street I can’t help but think, as I tuck my navy blue polo shirt back into my jeans and do my belt up another notch:

“What do you look like wearing that shit?”

But it often does make people feel good about themselves because the message from the fashion industry is so often “Wear this and it’ll make you unique and special”.

And we all wish we were special, right? So very special.

But the fashion industry is a creep and what people don’t hear – because the fashion industry puts its hand over its mouth and says it in a whisper – is that “We made 500,000 of them in China last month alone! You fools!”.

Take the VO5 Extreme Style hair, erm, wank, for instance.

By putting the hair, erm, wank through your, erm, hair you can transform yourself from just another uniform, faceless, erm, soldier into a unique and special, erm, soldier. Or some shit like that.

In fact, it will make you so unique and special that you’ll have hair that only looks exactly like the hair of 7 other people on the military base that you’ve been mysteriously taken to.

Oh, and it will mean you’ll get to hold hands and cuddle on a Jeep. Ahh.

Note: If you really want to see unique hair you should see mine first thing in the mornings. Then again in the afternoon when I try to tame it but only make it worse.

Obviously what’s seemingly lost on the non-conformist, mould-breakers is that by buying this product they’ll be conforming to the business model or mould, if you will, that the hair, erm, wank manufacturers have devised or cast, if you will.

Tsk, I bet all those non-conformists feel pretty stupid right about now, don’t you?

If you’re anything like me, you can never decide what to wear on your sex holidays to Brazil.

There’s just too much pressure and the women you meet (I initially spelt that “meat” in a dirty little euphemistic typo) are so judgemental about your clothes.

“Pleats on the front of trousers? What is this the 90s?” They ask.

“Shirts with pockets? This isn’t a business convention, you know?” They question.

“Only wear Speedos if you got something to show off!” They mock.

And that’s when you’re with one woman at a time.

Good God, could you imagine what it would be like if you went on some sort of “South American threesome get away”?

How on Earth would you know what to wear?

You know what I hate about pizza?

Yeah, that’s right. It’s a food product almost completely lacking in good quality double-entendres.

As hard as one might try it’s very difficult to make a amusing saucy comment about cheese and tomatoes on baked dough.

“Do you want a thin crust or… deeeeeeep paaaaaan?”

“Would you prefer a…. Hawaiiaaaaaan? Fwoar!”

So thank God for Pizza Hut and their new advert.

For not only do Pizza Hut sell a pizza that requires the waiting staff to ask customers:

“Do you want a double stufffed crust?”

The advert also includes a line that’s normally only heard in back-street massage parlours come saunas.

An “extra happy ending with every slice”, you say?

I’ll have a… laaaarge oneeeee, then! Wahey!

Please feel free to leave any Pizza based smut in the comments. And if you’re lucky, Pizza Hut might use it in their next advert.

Judge for yourself.