The six most absurd booth babe moments at CES

Because nothing makes you interested in tech products like oiled buttocks. That's, like, science.

The Consumer Electronics Show, currently being held in Las Vegas, is persisting with the use of "booth babes" - models paid to drape themselves over otherwise fairly mundane updates of technology.

The BBC has a report here, which notes:

While models have been banned from technology and gaming expos in China, the US is seeing a steady growth in their use in marketing. Critics say their presence is degrading to women and contributes to the fact that so few women want to take up careers in engineering.

I'd argue that their presence is also fairly degrading to men, since the reason for their existence is the presumption that men can only be interested in new phones and tellies if they are strapped to the hotpant-clad ass of an attractive woman. Experience would suggest this is not the case.

I mean, look:

My God, Nikon, now you mention it, your camera will go exceptionally well with this couture dress and oddly nipply cupcake hat!

And that was by no means the most ridiculous booth babe moment. I only have a limited Getty pictures subscription, but a search for "CES" and "model" turned up all of these. I'm sure there are far more:

"Yeah, I'm quite interested in buying one of your mobile phone cases, but will it go with my butt? I'm very keen on accessories working with my butt."

Who could have imagined what the iShower speaker - "an easily detachable Bluetooth enabled shower speaker with complete compatability with any Bluetooth audio streaming phone, tablet or computer" - would look like without the assistance of a woman in a branded bathrobe?

Praise be! At last someone has found a way to make men interested in needlessly gigantic televisions!

Guess what this lady is selling  . . . yep, car door speakers. Which are best enjoyed in fishnet stockings.

I'm going to give the people behind the "SKINS" single-use waterphone mobile phone cover a pass, because they are essentially selling a phone condom, and therefore need all the help they can get.

 

Incidentally, many places have banned "booth babes", including the Eurogamer Expo. As their managing director wrote last year:

We’ve always had an informal guideline regarding booth babes: we don’t think they are right for the Expo. When we talk to publishers and exhibitors, we discourage them from bringing booth babes – and encourage them to bring developers.

Of course, exhibitors need to bring staff to the show, but they should be interesting, cool and exciting (Master Chief was /amazing/!) and knowledgeable (developers and publisher staff) rather than pretty girls in revealing outfits just for the sake of it. We want the show to be friendly, and all 50,000 attendees to feel comfortable.

Take your phone in the shower. But keep your towel on. Photo: Getty

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

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The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism