We have everything you’ll ever need.
Our Customers are entitled to Quality. Come on,
give us a kiss. You are bidding on an antique
jewelled kerosene bicycle lamp. Imagine the loneliest
sound in the night. Here it is. Do not scream.
Confirm your support of the Government. Godhead,
warhead, gargoyle-head handled umbrellas. Sexual
services: Miss Vandala flogs you on weekdays from
10 am to 5 pm. Popular edition. Lotto. Beer. Ammo.
User-friendly chopsticks. Interactive fortune cookies.
Cool. Free flow. What do you think you’re worth?
Join us or perish. Barracuda sunglasses. Free fall.
Discount Brain Surgery. Watch out for flying objects.
Boy, you’re gonna like this. Please do not bang
on the glass. No alcohol, no drugs, no dogs. Best Buy.
Adult videos. Party bibs with literary quotations.
Thunder crap. Even the beggars will step away.
Where do you think you’re going? Rest rooms closed.
In God we trust. Confidential services. Classified
information. No questions asked. Find your own
tombstone on the internet. Don’t worry. Be happy.
All you need is love.
Pic: Claire Palmer
You can see why I never went into advertising! 🙂Comment by Claire on 28 November, 2013 at 9:35 am
great poem jane x
Thankyou so much, Claire!
Thanks also for the marvellous illustration!
Yes, I know why . . . . . certain things are best avoided, ey?Comment by Magpie Jane on 30 November, 2013 at 11:27 pm
And while we’re at it, here’s a perfectly hairy-scary essay by Hans Magnus Enzensberger that I came across just recently, on the terror of advertising: http://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d-105648288.html