Dragged backwards, cramping and bleeding.

There’s something I have to get off my chest even though it’s been going on a while now.
Because there’s going to be trouble.
I’m waiting for it.
It’s going to happen at some point.
And then all hell will break loose.
At some point, somewhere in Britain, a builder will slightly change one of the traditional, age old greetings used by such people when they see a young, attractive women.
And he might be killed because of it.
Sooner or later, a yellow safety vested, hard hat wearing man will make a slight revision to an often heard greeting and instead of shouting out, ‘Cheer up luv, it might never ‘appen,’ in the hope that, instead of inwardly groaning, the young woman will find him irresistibly witty and stop just long enough to procreate with him, he’ll change the words slightly.
And may the lord have mercy on his soul.
Because, in an attempt to be just that little bit wittier than before, he’ll shout something along the lines of, ‘Cheer up luv, you’ll be on the blob soon!’ and then all the yellow vests and hardhats in the world won’t save him.
And there will only be one group of people to blame.
The people behind a campaign that’s been running for a while now.
The ones that thought up the Always campaign. The one that invites women of menstruating age to ‘HAVE A HAPPY PERIOD!’
Now unless I’m missing something and Always now work like a nicotine patch, slow releasing class A drugs into the user, I don’t get it.
Because neither my wife, nor any woman I’ve ever known, has ever said to me, ‘I’m feeling a bit down. But never mind, my period’s due soon, that’ll cheer me up.’
The first time I saw the TV advertisements, I felt as if Doc Brown had dragged me into his Delorean and taken me back to a simpler time.
A time when advertising for sanitary products meant a roller-skating women in white being dragged along a beach-side boulevard by a pack of dogs or galloping along on a white horse to prove there could be no leaks.
Then all these ads became the subject of ridicule.
Because it turned out we weren’t fooling anyone into believing that they could do these things on their periods because the reality was that they’d probably be feeling a bit self conscious, bloated, maybe a bit weepy, putting up with painful cramps and feeling, well, just a little bit unhappy.
But then we all grew up and began listening to the target audience. We began to show some understanding. Some empathy.
How did this get through research?
All I can think is they used the latest satellite technology to scour the Pacific Islands, found a group of Japanese soldiers who still thought WWII was on, and asked them if they’d mind joining the group and bringing their 1940s attitudes.
Those elderly Japanese. They’ll do anything for a free custard cream.
Apparently it’s come from America. Which goes some way to explaining it.
After all, they gave George W. a second term.
And just as the repercussions of that little decision spread around the world, ‘Have a happy period,’ is doing the same.
And I, a man, feel let down because it makes advertising look like the half arsed industry it’s become.
Have we really spent so long just trying to win awards for what we tell ourselves is art or making films that have no relation to the product that we can’t come up with a campaign that doesn’t totally miss it’s mark?
But despite the obvious insult to women everywhere and general proof that the brand is showing little understanding of the target market, there hasn’t been any press coverage of any anti always internet campaign started by a woman in Chipping Norton. There hasn’t been any huge backlash or calls for the head of the head of the Always marketing team.
Presumably they’re all too busy being happy as the narcotics slowly seep into their system.
So I suppose I’ll have to do it.
If you’re the team that first uttered these words in a meeting, possibly in desperation after a good idea was blown out, you should hang your head in shame.
If you’re the planer that wrote the brief, you should hang you head in shame.
If you’re the account man who sold it, you should hang your head in shame.
But if you’re the marketing manager that bought it, you should hang yourself. It’ll be a lot less painful than what happens when the drugs wear off and they come for you.