There are few things more abhorrent in our little isolated bubble of privilege and excess as advertising industry. But they have money and I want some. So, here are a couple pitches.
Pitch number one. We do a photo series inspired by the corpse piles from the photographs of the liberation of Dachau using only the best and most vacuous of today's super models. Because, let's face it if those girls weren't murdered by racist Nazi fucks, they would have been fabulous. I mean, just look at those figures. Ribs and sex appeal. Curves are for the fat girl catalogues.
We can pay homage to those fabulous but forgotten by recreating those images as a photo shot for Manolo Blahnik. Picture the bodies of models like Kate, Agyness, Giselle, etc. Their emaciated but perfectly groomed bodies cast upon each other, limbs akimbo, like a pile of human kindling, wearing only the finest examples of fall season oh eight. We can do a Spielberg and have it shot on grainy black and white stock except for the shoes are full super saturated colour. Gorgeous. Maybe a nice tag line like 'they died so that Manolo might live' or 'I'd rather die than leave my Blahniks'. I don't know; I am open to suggestions.
Pitch number two. This one is pretty versatile. It'll sell anything. And sex sells anything, so I hear. You flip through any kind of magazine and you have pre-pubescent girls pouting their lips and arching their backs to sell anything from clothes to bacon. It always confuses me why the seconds-long exposure of a grown woman's areola is taboo but it is okay to have a 17 year-old pop star grind her spangled clad groin against a pole for three minutes. But, rules are rules and, by god, I know if you want to flog some crap you can't be breaking rules. So, my original idea of having a 29 second close up of the coitus of two white heterosexual and married couple followed by one second black back-grounded logo shot and a deep-voiced reading of the company's tag line. But, imagine how the cases of Budweiser would fly off the shelves after the unwashed masses got a load of fuck fuck fuck then bam - "Budweiser. King of Beers" read by the guy who does the "ready to rumble" spiel. So, yes that one is out. Instead we get all Hitchcock on the people. I'm talking visual allegory baby! We film a tight shot of the business ends of pigs humping like the mad mammals they are, cleaned up and sparkling pink, mind you. 28 seconds of that. 1 second of a zoom out to reveal it's pigs rather than people and so we can say to the censors 'it's just nature, man, taking its course', then before the blood rushes away from the viewers' genitals – "Budweiser. King of Beers".
Please make checks payable to, wickedtomocktheafflicted marketing consultancy.