The ADgenda: this week's most offensive advert

Fat binder tablets.

With the waistband of Britain tightening as obesity statistics grow, it’s
only understandable that adverts quietly confront us with solutions to
shrink our shameful stomachs. It’s nicer than being told off by news
articles! But, when the news lectures us about children wider than they are
tall and our imminent deaths at the hands of the Big Mac, the underlying
message is, above all, health (and maybe Britain not being picked last in
the PE class of the world). XLS Medical’s advert for their fat binder
tablets remarkably omits all possible health benefits for whatever the
cartoon science says their product does.

Of course, health isn’t their main selling point. Why would it be? It’s not
as if the name of their brand features the word “medical”, a word pointing
directly towards health in all possible uses. Marching under this universal
“medical” flag, it must be difficult to segregate your market so harshly,
but they manage it. This advert’s target is so fixed on women it’s like an
insecurity-seeking missile. The central figure, our heroine, laments at
gaining weight until she doesn’t feel like herself anymore. The images
accompanying this claim are indeed shocking deviations from being oneself:
she happily holds a baby and eats a sandwich at her desk. But the straw
that breaks the camel’s back is when she struggles to zip up her
tightly-squeezing clothes – and the penny drops. The only reason XLS
Medical would ever expect anyone to buy this is because of insecurity about
their image – insecurity which their adverts help to create.

Are men not in need of help with dieting? Or is it expected that,
since they don’t wear red dresses like on the Special K box, they’ll just
do the Manly Thing and keep drinking their beer-bellies gargantuan, sucking
in their gut when a pretty lady walks by? Targeting diet products at women
is not just perpetuating a worn-out ad stereotype like women as homemakers
or sex objects; it’s stretching the gender gap beyond repair. When men
barely get tutted for being an above-average size, women are so fervidly
encouraged to look like models that some can end up starving themselves.
And defining beauty under “medical”? Maybe the advertising world just holds
different definitions to the real world: New Medical Special K: now more
effective in keeping you presentable!

 

XLS Medical’s advert. Photograph: youtube.com
Newsgroup Newspapers Ltd/Published with permission
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Everything that is wonderful about The Sun’s HMS Global Britain Brexit boat

And all who sail in her.

Just when you’d suffered a storm called Doris, spotted a sad Ukip man striding around the Potteries in top-to-toe tweed, watched 60 hours of drama about the Queen being a Queen and thought Britain couldn’t get any more Brexity, The Sun on Sunday has launched a boat called HMS Global Britain.


Photo: Newsgroup Newspapers Ltd/Photos published with permission from The Sun

Taking its name from one of Theresa May’s more optimistic characterisations of the UK post-Europe (it’s better than “Red, white and blue Brexit”, your mole grants), this poor abused vessel is being used by the weekend tabloid to host a gaggle of Brexiteers captained by Michael Gove – and a six-foot placard bearing the terms of Article 50.

Destination? Bloody Brussels, of course!

“Cheering MPs boarded HMS Global Britain at Westminster before waving off our message on a 200-mile voyage to the heart of the EU,” explains the paper. “Our crew started the journey at Westminster Pier to drive home the clear message: ‘It’s full steam ahead for Brexit.’”

Your mole finds this a wonderful spectacle. Here are the best bits:

Captain Michael Gove’s rise to power

The pinnacle of success in Brexit Britain is to go from being a potential Prime Minister to breaking a bottle of champagne against the side of a boat with a fake name for a publicity stunt about the policy you would have been enacting if you’d made it to Downing Street. Forget the experts! This is taking back control!


 

“God bless her, and all who sail in her,” he barks, smashing the bottle as a nation shudders.

The fake name

Though apparently photoshopped out of some of the stills, HMS Global Britain’s real name is clear in The Sun’s footage of the launch. It is actually called The Edwardian, its name painted proudly in neat, white lettering on its hull. Sullied by the plasticky motorway pub sign reading “HMS Global Britain” hanging limply from its deck railings. Poor The Edwardian. Living in London and working a job that involves a lot of travel, it probably voted Remain. It probably joined the Lib Dems following the Article 50 vote. It doesn’t want this shit.

The poses

All the poses in this picture are excellent. Tory MP Julian Brazier’s dead-eyed wave, the Demon Headmaster on his holidays. Former education minister Tim Loughton wearing an admiral’s hat and toting a telescope, like he dreamed of as a little boy. Tory MP Andrea Jenkyns’ Tim Henman fist of regret. Labour MP Kate Hoey’s cheeky grin belied by her desperately grasping, steadying hand. Former Culture Secretary John Whittingdale’s jolly black power salute. And failed Prime Ministerial candidate Michael Gove – a child needing a wee who has proudly found the perfect receptacle.

The metaphor

In a way, this is the perfect representation of Brexit. Ramshackle, contrived authenticity, unclear purpose, and universally white. But your mole isn’t sure this was the message intended by its sailors… the idea of a Global Britain may well be sunk.

I'm a mole, innit.