Coca-cola sucks Christmas into its terrifying maw

The ADgenda: This week's most alarming advert.

It must get a bit dull being the world's leading brand. No need for inventive or expensive advertising campaigns when the product you're touting is quaffed by the bucketload by a significant proportion of the world's population. Consequently, Coke has plumped for world domination, focusing their advertising efforts on strong-arming the few remaining stragglers who haven't embraced their sugary world view.

So it is that everyone's hotly anticipated festive moment - the Coke ad - has taken a decidedly creepy turn. A determined Father Christmas stomps through the snow, slapping a note on a mysterious giant present that reads "For those who don't believe". We cut to a drab cityscape, with a lone girl chugging on a Coke bottle only to be interrupted by a thump outside the window - run to look outside and there's a massive present nestling in the snow. The ribbons fall off and inside sits a giant puppet Father Christmas, who pulls off his restraints and rears up to his full terrifying height.

Serving as a reminder of Coke's pervasive presence the world over Father Cokemas stalks the streets winking knowingly at all the non-believers. He's got your number.

Things were already taking a sinister turn when Christmas was heralded by a fleet of honking lorries breaking the idyllic quiet of a snow-scene while a creepy choir chanted "Holidays are coming". But such was the potency of the sugary stuff that this did nothing to dissuade the global population with Coke sales maintaining their constant high and head office fielding calls from disgruntled customers clamouring for the return of the seasonal ad when it briefly left our screens for a couple of years - for them, Christmas wasn't Christmas without the brown stuff.  In the 21st century Coke IS christmas, HGVs and all. Are you one of the non-believers? Father Cokemas is coming to get you…

WTF? Photograph: Getty Images
GETTY
Show Hide image

Cabinet audit: what does the appointment of Andrea Leadsom as Environment Secretary mean for policy?

The political and policy-based implications of the new Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs.

A little over a week into Andrea Leadsom’s new role as Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra), and senior industry figures are already questioning her credentials. A growing list of campaigners have called for her resignation, and even the Cabinet Office implied that her department's responsibilities will be downgraded.

So far, so bad.

The appointment would appear to be something of a consolation prize, coming just days after Leadsom pulled out of the Conservative leadership race and allowed Theresa May to enter No 10 unopposed.

Yet while Leadsom may have been able to twist the truth on her CV in the City, no amount of tampering will improve the agriculture-related side to her record: one barely exists. In fact, recent statements made on the subject have only added to her reputation for vacuous opinion: “It would make so much more sense if those with the big fields do the sheep, and those with the hill farms do the butterflies,” she told an audience assembled for a referendum debate. No matter the livelihoods of thousands of the UK’s hilltop sheep farmers, then? No need for butterflies outside of national parks?

Normally such a lack of experience is unsurprising. The department has gained a reputation as something of a ministerial backwater; a useful place to send problematic colleagues for some sobering time-out.

But these are not normal times.

As Brexit negotiations unfold, Defra will be central to establishing new, domestic policies for UK food and farming; sectors worth around £108bn to the economy and responsible for employing one in eight of the population.

In this context, Leadsom’s appointment seems, at best, a misguided attempt to make the architects of Brexit either live up to their promises or be seen to fail in the attempt.

At worst, May might actually think she is a good fit for the job. Leadsom’s one, water-tight credential – her commitment to opposing restraints on industry – certainly has its upsides for a Prime Minister in need of an alternative to the EU’s Common Agricultural Policy (CAP); a policy responsible for around 40 per cent the entire EU budget.

Why not leave such a daunting task in the hands of someone with an instinct for “abolishing” subsidies  thus freeing up money to spend elsewhere?

As with most things to do with the EU, CAP has some major cons and some equally compelling pros. Take the fact that 80 per cent of CAP aid is paid out to the richest 25 per cent of farmers (most of whom are either landed gentry or vast, industrialised, mega-farmers). But then offset this against the provision of vital lifelines for some of the UK’s most conscientious, local and insecure of food producers.

The NFU told the New Statesman that there are many issues in need of urgent attention; from an improved Basic Payment Scheme, to guarantees for agri-environment funding, and a commitment to the 25-year TB eradication strategy. But that they also hope, above all, “that Mrs Leadsom will champion British food and farming. Our industry has a great story to tell”.

The construction of a new domestic agricultural policy is a once-in-a-generation opportunity for Britain to truly decide where its priorities for food and environment lie, as well as to which kind of farmers (as well as which countries) it wants to delegate their delivery.

In the context of so much uncertainty and such great opportunity, Leadsom has a tough job ahead of her. And no amount of “speaking as a mother” will change that.

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.