The ADgenda: cold, dead-eyed Kooples

The week's oddest advert.

We've all heard that sex sells. Well, so does shared catatonic boredom if The Kooples adverts are anything to go by. You're sure to have seen them adorning the sides of buses in cities across the country - the hollow-eyed, sullen slouchers who represent a brand with a smugger than smug outlook on life.  The Kooples rely on the assumption that you spend your days coordinating outfits with the ultimate accessory, your impeccably dressed girlfriend/boyfriend. These Kooples also inhabit a strange world where same sex and mixed race relationships are non-existent and women are in thrall to their talented men – Cantona balancing a ball and blondie slouching on his BMX like an oversized child while their girlfriends stand idly by. 

The tagline declares something along the lines of "Stefano and Arietty have been together for five years" – each of those years cooler, hipper and more fashion savvy than the last. No morning breath, snoring, shout-whisper arguments in public places for them. No, the Kooples are here to show us that our aspirations are futile, however hard you strive you will never be as achingly beautiful a unit as these ethereal beings. 

Evidenced by the cool £87m they notched up last year, it seems a few of us are buying into this message. Walk past any of their stores and you're sure to see either an awkward looking couple dubiously eyeing the his'n'hers leather get-up, or a nervously determined singleton, head held high, weathering the "This is not for you" disdain that the brand so effortlessly oozes. Never has an advertising campaign delivered such a hefty kick in the teeth to all singletons, or to the ultimate sinners – a sartorially clashing twosome. Nothing says "relationship on the rocks" like a bomber jacket boy strolling next to a flowery dress girl. God forbid. 

It's hard to imagine daily reality for these impeccably turned-out twosomes. Dinner at a restaurant would resound with the clinking of cutlery – the universal sign for awkward social occasions.  Polite enquiries would be met with bizarre self-satisfaction: "How did you two meet?", "Well, I noticed that the angle of his cheekbones perfectly complemented the shade of my suede trousers and I knew he was 'the one'".  

The Kooples business model revolves around disdain – tapping into that primal need for approval hardwired into our systems since school days spent hankering to be one of the cool kids, left wanting it all the more when our efforts were rewarded with a withering glance. The only difference is now the cool kids seem faintly ridiculous, insistent on our attention as they stare down at us from bus sidings, like precocious children their eyes shout "Look at us! We're the ideal!" To which the average passer-by responds with a bemused acknowledgement. Quick, applaud the beautiful people before they start to stamp their feet. 

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PMQs review: David Cameron's call for Jeremy Corbyn to resign will only help him

 "For heaven's sake man, go!" The PM's appeal was sincere but the Labour leader can turn it to his advantage. 

It is traditionally the leader of the opposition who calls for the prime minister to resign. At today's PMQs, in another extraordinary moment, we witnessed the reverse. "For heaven's sake man, go!" David Cameron cried at Jeremy Corbyn, echoing Oliver Cromwell's address to the rump parliament ("in the name of God, go!") and Leo Amery's appeal to Neville Chamberlain in the 1940 Norway debate.

While it was in his "party's interests" for Corbyn to "sit there", Cameron said, it wasn't "in the national interest". Some will regard this as a cunning ruse to strengthen the Labour leader's position. But to my ear, Cameron sounded entirely sincere as he spoke. With just two months left as prime minister, he has little interest in seeking political advantage. But as he continues to defy appeals from his own side to resign, the addition of a Tory PM to the cause will only aid Corbyn's standing among members. 

After rumours that Labour MPs would boycott the session, leaving a sea of empty benches behind Corbyn, they instead treated their leader with contemptuous silence. Corbyn was inevitably jeered by Tory MPs when he observed that Cameron only had "two months left" to leave a "a One Nation legacy" (demanding "the scrapping of the bedroom tax, the banning of zero-hours contracts, and the cancelling of cuts to Universal Credit"). Cameron conceded that "we need do more to tackle poverty" before deriding Corbyn's EU referendum campaigning. "I know the Hon. Gentleman says he put his back into it. All I can say is I'd hate to see it when he's not trying." 

The other notable moment came when Theresa May supporter Alan Duncan contrasted Angela Merkel with "Silvio Borisconi" (a Hansard first). Cameron replied: "Neither of the people he's talking about are candidates in this election, it's an election I will stay out of ... I was given lots of advice, one of them was not to go to a party with Silvio Berlusconi and I'm glad I took it." Given the recent fate of those who personally mocked Johnson during the referendum campaign, Duncan's jibe may not do May's cause much more help now. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.