| Monday, September 09, 2002 |
 | Think of it as the equivalent of wearing a low-cut top and a Wonderbra, only for ugly clever people. Not sure if it gets you laid, but hey.
Jamie adumbrates the importance of the crossword, and in particular the apex of pyrgic puzzlement that is the Times One in today's fresh new Upsideclown; it's probably funnier if you know that we went to college with Henry Bokenham, and the name has not just been cobbled together from the letters in a collection of rude words. We were also at college with a John Fullalove, but that's an exceptionally different story.
Meanwhile, good stuff going on at the Upsideclone, as Kevan begins the fightback.
My walkman plays from a thin band of white noise between stations, blocking out the background conversations, discouraging even eye-contact. Mornings are always the worst, rush-hour commuters being the most captive audience you can get. It used to be laughably unsubtle, like sitting through a bad faux-vox-pop advert from the old days ("Mmmm, these taste just like strawberries and cream!"), but natural selection has whittled it down to subtlety and implication. A comment on your model of mobile phone, your brand of cigarette, your overlong glance at a Tube poster, and before you know where you are, you've been handed a new opinion.
The Campaign for Real Advertising is so on.
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