Let
us go and live in La La land; no, I do not mean the movie, rather the
world of television advertising.
In
moments of stress I want to be in television land where all you have
to worry about is, how clean is your sink, how clean is your dog,
child,
whatever.
The
weekly wash day is transformed into a singing, dancing affair
with ladies in green tights – I think there are some blokes in it but
not
sure about the tights.
When
the doorbell rings, I rush to the door, open, and greet some
hunky
guy who wants to check my fire extinguisher.
 |
| "Hi ya.." |
I’ve
got news for you; if Hunky Guy wants to extinguish my fire, then
come
right in.
But
at the crucial moment….Yes! Big problem, is the toilet absolutely
spotless?
In
the world of Reality, are you really, really going to give a tea-leaf
about the sodding loo? If it was for real, you and he are heading for
the
bedroom, and if life was a rainbow, you would be tearing that
shirt off
his manly torso.
All
right, not the shirt but you get the idea ?
You
have to come back to Planet Earth in the end - machines break
down,
things stops working, and it’s time to find a Person to Fix -It.
Of
course the Fix It Person, is out, terribly busy, will ring you back.
When they do, make damn sure to be waiting for him.
In
television land this is where the Hunky Guy appears at your door, he
has a mega watt smile, abs and pecs to die for, and underneath
that shirt, the muscles ripple.
A
deep husky voice asks if he can help; you bet, come right in.
Wake
Up.
What
you actually get is a wrinkly guy, of mature years, in scruffy blue
overalls and a toothy smile – just the one tooth you understand. He
carries a bag of clanking tools and leaves mud on the carpet.
To
make sure the work gets done, you listen to a long (and painful)
recital of all the problems he struggles with, and how hard life is.
Bite
your lip - do not mutter “Problems? Keep it to yourself, why
don’t
you?”
If
he wants tea, don’t throw it at him, it won’t go down too well.
When
Mr Wrinkly has finished telling you what a good job he has done,
and
goes, at last, just nod, and shut the door – quickly.
There
is the Postman of course – OK, my Postman is short, and rotund
I have to say. He wears shorts in all weathers, and they are a tad
baggy. But I see those Legs twinkle down the road in the morning,
and
my day acquires a Sparkle.
How
sad is that?
Yep
