Do me a favour, will you?
Forward this to someone who has no ability to make decisions, but can peck your head until you buy from me.
Alright. I admit it. I’m a pretentious twat, me.
Here’s how my morning routine goes. I get up, head to the kitchen and use a hand grinder to freshly grind a few spoonfuls of medium roast coffee from an artisinal coffee shop (10% discount - thanks Club Mundial!).
I carefully spoon the grounds into my favourite Moka pot, which I have already filled with water, and place it upon the hob. Unlit, for now.
I have it all planned out you see. I’ll return home from my pre-work wander in 45 minutes and gently heat some milk, which I will froth with my battery-powered milk frother. I’ll then pour fresh coffee and warm milk into my favourite mug, and enjoy.
Then I pull on my reliable old Jack Wolfskin boots, grab the dog (and a box of W’siz treats, natch), and go and buy a £2.90 flat white from a bloke called Neil in a van by the side of the canal.
I don’t have a choice you see. I could quite easily just have a cup of coffee at home. I’ve done most of the hard work already. But when the coffee van first opened, Neil gave my dog a treat. He did the same the second day. And the third.
So now I have three choices.
Don’t let Leia have a biscuit, and drag her whining from the van as other people judge me, tut, and say “what a bad dog owner, I bet he’s a bad husband and bad copywriter too.”
Get the free biscuit, spend nowt, and feel like a proper scruff while a crowd of passers-by screech “shame!” at me and accuse me of taking advantage of a man’s generosity until finally a vigilante dressed as some sort of animal twats me with a boomerang shaped like a squirrel or some mad shit like that.
Buy a cup of coffee.
A combination of societal expectations and beagles being stubborn, irritating bastards means I have to go with option three every day. Luckily the coffee’s good.
Great marketing. Nobody who eats a free dog biscuit can or will buy a coffee. But they can apply pressure to the decision makers who will. And the best thing is, these pressure-appliers are much easier and cheaper to reach and influence than the decision makers.
You just need to think of a way of getting them on your side.
Something mint - this advert for football boots from five years ago or something
Black football boots aren’t cool. Your Predators, your Puma Kings, your Copa Mundials. They’re from a bygone era of the 1990s. Fucking stone age boots. You can’t sell them to kids.
Adidas aren’t trying to. They’re selling them to you.
You’ll never run the length of the pitch and smack one into the top corner. You’re 10 years, 20,000 B&H Silver and 3,000 pints of Estrella Damm past running the length of a football pitch. Nah, you’re the “first yard’s in your head” player. In your dreams, you’re a Strachan, a Hamann, a Teddy Sheringham. And these are the boots to match.
If you’re a bloke my age, you’re nodding. It’s 2023 and this advert makes you think you’re Teddy Sheringham.
You, son, are not Teddy fucking Sheringham.
But just for a moment, says Copa Mundial, maybe you could be.
PS: Looking for other good stuff to read? AdTurds is back, this time in POG Substack form! Subscribe here, and enjoy the polar opposite of my “Something Mint” section. Except for today, which is a lovely exploration of the iconic Softmints advert.
PPS: Want something that’s great and never negative? The magnificent Becca Magnus is doing a monthly deep-dive into trends that take her fancy. Like this great exploration of video games and pop culture.
PPPS: Today’s eight years to the day since I registered 603 Copywriting as a business. If you’d told me I’d be doing this well eight years on, I’d have asked who’s coattails I was clinging to. And you’d be able to sadly thrust a finger at Hampson Nattan Williams and whisper the name Benjamin.
If I'm not Teddy Sheringham can I at least be Stuart Ripley?
PPPPS: Lovely bit of Mundial-esque writing this week.