Saturday, 26 May 2007

An Update A Day: Day Five

Yes, it's very late, and yes, it's nearly 5am on Saturday morning (hey, we've been out drinking copious amounts of alcohol and driving 65mph go-karts all day, and thankfully not in that order), so you'll have to excuse a slightly half-hearted Update A Day update for today.

Luckily, you won't have to excuse anything at all. Despite everything, we've pulled out the stops to give you a SOLID GOLD YOUTUBE SPECIAL UPDATE for the weekend. Oh yes. It's magical. It's fantastical. It's the greatest thing we've found on YouTube after the Richard Massingham public information films that we'd put on there ourselves. What can it be? It's more majestic than we could ever have imagined. It's...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpfEK9oeq80
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aE_D61oob4Y
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mChHhP9KA_U
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbqeOyjRYHg



That's right, the first ever episode of Prisoner Cell Block H, in full, in four parts. Yes, while it might well be some way away from the Lexie Patterson* Golden Age, it still had Vinegar Tits (indisputably the greatest ever name for a character in a recurring drama), Lizzie Birdsworth, the mighty Bea Smith, and of course officer Meg Jackson.

(*We're not ashamed in saying Lexie Patterson is the character in a soap opera we have fancied the most out of all the soap opera characters we've ever fancied ever. Yes, even including Charlene Mitchell and Beth Willis. She'd be around 47 years old now. We probably still 'would'.)

The Freaktastic last episode is up there in full as well, as are several other seminal episodes. If nothing else, at least it gives us something to use our internet for now the football season has ended so we don't need PPStream any more.

Six hundred BrokenTV bonus points are on offer for anyone who can point us in the direction of a YouTubed copy of the episode of PCBH where Lexie gets off with a 'garbo' so she can claim she's up the duff so she doesn't get knifed for being a 'lag'. You don't get this sort of plotline in Emmerdale, you know.
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Thursday, 24 May 2007

An Update A Day: Day Four and a Bit

To: PepsiCo, Inc.
700 Anderson Hill Road
Purchase, NY 10577

Dear Pepsi,

I feel I must complain to you in the strongest possible terms about what has happened to me upon consuming some of your popular Pepsi Max soft drink. I shall start my story from the beginning, and with pictures.



En route to a local bar with a few of my multi-ethnic model agency colleagues, I noticed a can of your 'Pepsi Max' soft drink affixed to a blue bar, somehow suspended in mid-air just in front of me. Although I can't be fully sure, from my position by this blue bar, each end of the bar seemed to be labelled - one end as 'xam', the other with 'orez', not quite sure why. In order to be fully sure what I saw in front of me was not some kind of urban mirage, I elected to pick up this can, at which point the world around me began to spin at an alarming rate.



Desperate to steady myself, I grabbed on to the only thing I could still see clearly - the magic hovering can affixed to the blue bar. This did little to help my feeling of extreme motion sickness.



Unsure what else could be done at this point, I decided to take a drink from the can, in the hope that the carbonated liquid inside would somehow calm my nerves.



This is where things took a turn for the worse. I found myself propelled to an alternate world, where suddenly I was completely unable to move my arms, legs or body. My eyes darted nervously around, hoping somebody would be able to help me. Unable to utter a plea for help, I could do nought but bobble my head around furiously, in the desperate hope that someone, anyone would understand my predicament.



In a mixture of relief and abject panic, I noticed that I was situated in front of two young women who appeared to be giants. I had no way of knowing if they were somehow responsible for my being in this desparate situation, if they would be able to save me, or if this was just the beginning of something much worse. I continued to flail my head around, unable even to mouth the word 'help', hoping against hope that they were benevolent girl-giants. O! Sweet relief! They appeared to have noticed me, and the look upon their face seemed to be one of understanding. Surely they would be able to help me.



My relief was all too short lived. Their expressions seemed to turn to one of mocking joy at my entrapment. They did little more than taunt my helpless form by laughing in my helpless face, even going as far as kissing me, in some sort of depraved display of jolly glee. As my confused form tried to signal outside of the vehicle I was trapped in, just in case there was anyone else who could possibly help me, the evil girl-giants drove away, far away, far from any possible hope of rescue.

It is now three weeks since that original experience, and I remain trapped, affixed to the dashboard of the car belonging to the two giantesses. I cannot bring myself to relate the experiences I have had to endure since my initial capture, but suffice to say that I feel this entire experience hardly qualifies as 'maxing' my 'life'. As such, I must insist that you change the slogan for your current promotional campaign to something along the lines of "Pepsi Max: Run The Risk Of Inhabiting A Nightmarish World Where Your Entire Body Is Somehow Substituted With A Plastic Figurine And You Suffer A Series Of Torments Where You Long For Nothing More Than The Sweet Release Of Death", which I feel would be more accurate.

Cheers,
Ian Bloke.

PS. Oh, and "help", obviously.
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Wednesday, 23 May 2007

An Update A Day: Day, erm, Four

Yes, yes. So much for 'an update a day', but BrokenTV's computer decided not to work at all yesterday, which messed things up a bit*. Today, it seems to be working, but the CPU fan has gone a bit haywire, doing nothing for a while, then running constantly while the CPU temperature climbs up bit by bit. While this is pretty annoying, by running Speedfan, we can keep tabs on our computer's 'core temperate', so we can switch it off just before it explodes. It's at a nicely safe 59°C right now, so let's see if we can get a couple of updates out before it explodes, potentially killing us all in the process.

(*And then we realised that us saving an early draft of this update just after the original means that the "published by" date is messed up, which makes the above slightly nonsensical. It's actually now the 24th of May.)



(PART TWO)

Of course, you'd think what with all that time we spent standing outside John Lennon Airport over the last few days, selling the printouts of this Wikipedia image to fat men in replica shirts, we could afford a new PC. You'd be wrong, because it turned out everyone had cleverly paid us with printouts of this Wikipedia image. Those loveable scallies. But anyway, it's time for:

BrokenTV's Five Favourite And Five Least Favourite Covers For European Champions Cup Finals Match Programmes Between The Years Of 1956 And 1985: Part Two (The Worst Covers For European Champions Cup Finals Match Programmes Between The Years Of 1956 And 1985)

CPU temperature still at a non-explody 59°C, but we'd better press on all the same.



5.
1976 (Glasgow) Bayern Munich 1 St. Etienne 0

A horrid shade of brown (although they were probably aiming for 'gold'), the Pac-Man typeface (which doesn't work an anything other than a Pac-Man cabinet), and two large flags stuck into, as far as we can tell, Cornwall and southern Denmark. And the main illustration? The UEFA logo. It's this sort of lackadaisical approach that M Platini is working so hard to revamp. Speaking of which, what price monkey referees for the 2009 Final? 57%



4.
1972 (Rotterdam) Inter 0 Ajax 2

It's a great big anthropomorphic European Cup. In a way, we kind of respect the quickly fashioned scrawl presumably done by the 1970s Dutch equivalent of rubbish Daily Mirror cartoonist Tom Johnson, but in another more accurate way, couldn't they have come up with something a bit better? It's a European showpiece, for flip's sake. 52%



3.
1961 (Berne) Benfica 3 Barcelona 2

"Meu deus! I have kicked my penalty so wide it has not just gone over the bar, but out of the entire continent! A not very accurate representation of it, to boot!" etc. 44%



2.
1969 (Madrid) Milan 4 Ajax 1

Tsk. If this was from the early 1950s, we might have let it slide, but coming up with something this tacky in 1969? It looks like it could just as easily be the cover of a pamphlet on farming subsidies issued at an EEC seminar. 26%



1.
1973 (Belgrade) Ajax 1 Juventus 0

Aieeeee! Our eyes! Now, we can't be sure, partly because we're too young and not sex perverts, but this is probably taken from a generic design of all manner of early 1970s pornography. Especially so when you notice that the figure at the top of the cup silhouette looks like a kind of "18+" disclaimer sticker. At that font used for the team name - so horrible it even makes Comic Sans look quite good (and not the typographic equivalent of a 'comedy' tie worn by an annoying middle-manager who reckons he's a bit 'wacky' it really is). Despite what Life On Mars told us, life in 1973 wasn't all Morecambe and Wise Keep Britain Tidy posters and crimes that weren't committed by the person you'd thought they were going to be by, but rather by the other person introduced to the storyline at about the same point as the original suspect, some of it was quite horrid. 12%

-

And so, with our feature on old football programmes which we'd thought was going to turn out better than it did (no, it wasn't the comedy goldmine we'd originally anticipated), and our CPU code temperature explode-o-meter now sitting at 64°C, we're going to sigh resignedly, click on 'publish post' and hope for the best. Maybe our catch-up feature a bit later on (we said an update per day, and we mean it) will prove to be better.
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An Update A Day: Volume Two

It's BrokenTV's 100th post, so what better way to celebrate than post an update that has nothing at all to do with television. But, at least it's topical. Here, indeed, we go.




Of course, we say Live from Athens, but in actual fact we'd merely popped into the Liverpool FC club shop, and whilst there we picked up a copy of the match programme for the Champions League Final. Hey, it's as close to Athens as our budget would allow.

Thumbing through the programme, there's a nice little section towards the end where they've included information on match programmes from all the previous finals, including from the days when (a) football was better, because we didn't have Alan Shearer punditeering on it, and (b) the covers of foreign football programmes were quite often wonderfully mental affairs, often resembling the product of a hyperactive five-year-old left alone with some coloured felt and some scissors, or a propaganda poster from Mussolini-controlled Italy. Here we take a look at

BrokenTV's Five Favourite And Five Least Favourite Covers For European Champions Cup Finals Match Programmes Between The Years Of 1956 And 1985: Part One

We've scanned in all of our favourite and least favourite ones, irrevocably creasing the spine of our pristine new match programme in the process. Which means we probably can't get as much for it on eBay. Damn.

The Five Best



5.
1964 (Vienna) Inter 3 Real Madrid 1

We were in a wonderfully fusty old bookshop today, and this splendid cover really does remind us of a cracking old Penguin Classics paperback, possibly about Smasher Jenkins and the Cup Final Mystery. Hurrah. 82%



4.
1982 (Rotterdam) Aston Villa 1 Bayern Munchen 0

Classic early-1980s. Why, it's could almost be the cover of an old not-quite-official Atari VCS game which merely featured a few faintly coloured blobs moving around a square blob while other slightly-differently colour blobs moved around slowly. That, and a just a dash of the old TSW logo. 85%



3.
1980 (Madrid) Nottingham Forest 1 Hamburg 0

Mmm, nice use of left-justified helvetica on a plain background. Ages before BBC One thought of doing it, and it looks a lot nicer too. 91%



2.
1960 (Glasgow) Real Madrid 7 Eintracht Frankfurt 3
Widely regarded as the greatest final of all time, and what a cover. Evocative of a 1930s edition of Boys Own*, but also incorporating a Superman-type title at the top. We'd love to see them do something like this nowadays. 94%
(*Well, we think so, even though we weren't born until the 1970s)



1.
1959 (Stuttgart) Real Madrid 2 Stade de Reims 0

See above, but this is much more classy. Would be more at home as the cover illustration for a copy of Tiger Comic where 'Golden' Gordon Jordan has just twenty minutes to win Rothermere Wanderers the European Cup... and to stop the Red Menace kidnapping first-team manager 'Gentleman' Sid Charmonderly-Smith, but what can you do. 95%

Tomorrow - Part Two: The Five Worst Covers For European Champions Cup Finals Match Programmes Between The Years Of 1956 And 1985. Also, possibly something someone would actually want to read about what we're supposed to be writing about.
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Tuesday, 22 May 2007

An Update A Day: Volume One

Yes, we know we've been deathly quiet recently. This isn't because we're too lazy to bother doing any updates (even though we are), because we been distracted because we'd become committed to gradually building up a large bankroll from an initial investment of £10 in online poker, over hours and hours and hours of play, before stupidly spunking the lot up the wall by misguidedly chucking most of it against top pair top kicker in a no-limit game before realising that ThaNutz364 had pocket queens all along because we're not very good at online poker (even though we recently did that) or because we're drunk on £2.99 Home Bargains wine (hic). No, a mixture of having a 48 hours per week day job and trying to cram in a dull degree that might just allow us to eventually stop doing a 48 hours per week day job for something less boring instead means that something has got to give. Quite clearly, it's not a degree in English, so we still don't know how to formulate a sentence properly.

Anyway, we've just found ourselves with a bit of time on our hands, so now we make a pledge to you, Johnny Viewer. For this week, we PROMISE to deliver AT LEAST one update, EVERY SINGLE DAY, for about a WEEK. We've got a Sky+ box 91% full of stuff we haven't got around to watching yet, so there must be something in there worth writing about, yeah? So, what better way to kick off this whole catch-up exercise with a subject matter that hasn't even happened yet, but which everyone else had been bored of talking about two weeks ago...

Day One: Credit Ra(n)ting

That Tony Blairs, eh? For a few years now, his stock reply to being asked about the whole WMD/Iraq/him being a great big massive war criminal directly responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent civilians question was along the lines of "oh, so you'd rather Saddam was back in power, would you? Eh? Eh?" In much the same vein, we'll generally make a point of addressing any criticism of the BBC by pointedly stating "oh, so you'd rather it was just as rubbish as ITV1, do you? Eh?" With that in mind, it's interesting to see that Auntie Beeb are becoming increasingly like their long-standing commercial rivals, by enforcing bland uniformity to all of BBC One's end credits, starting from the 4th of June.

But, as BrokenTV can now exclusively reveal, it doesn't end there. In a move to yet further prevent viewers from switching over at the end of the programme, a late addition to the presentation style guide has been made, in order to ensure that viewers know precisely which type of fare due to be sling in their faces after the next batch of trailers.



That's right. In further move to free us from the Orwellian tyranny of Not Being Able To Tell Exactly What A Programme Is About From The Title Alone, our glorious leaders at Television Centre have come up with the wonderful idea of forcing the programme makers to change not just the title sequence of each programme, but the title itself. Hurrah for the glorious BBC Commissioning Department!



It is proposed that the title sequence for each programme MUST include the title of the programme in the pre-approved Glorious Democratic Helvetica Neue 55 Roman typeface. 'Regular' only, and it has to be right-justified. The example above uses italicised text, which is why the person responsible is now lying face-down in a ditch with seagulls feasting on the diseased brain responsible for such an oversight. ALL HAIL THE GLORY OF THE FARSIGHTED BBC COMMISSIONING DEPARTMENT IN THIS CHALLENGING MULTI-CHANNEL AGE.



This is more like it.



Each show will end like this, until the END OF TIME.

In a further move to retain their digitial audience share, all BBC Three announcers have been instructed to use a "comedy mong" voice to dissuade viewers from flipping over to Footballers Wives' Haircuts Revealed: Extra Time on ITV2, as this exclusive leaked extract of next Tuesday night's announcer script reveals:

"Coming up next on Three, Two Pints Of Lager. Of course, you want to watch that. If you don't, you're just a big spastic. Hnnnnnnnngh!!!"
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Friday, 11 May 2007

We Are Still Alive

It's just that we've been too busy with lots of other stuff lately to (a) write about any television, and (b) watch much television worth writing about. And while we're tempted to go off on a 1500 word rant about how Hitler: The Comedy Years perpetuated the myth that Heil Honey, I'm Home was a terrible piece of television (when in actual fact, it was a rather jolly hi-concept romp, as these YouTube links to the show in its entirety - PART ONE | PART TWO - prove), we're going to have to restrict ourselves to the following bite-sized outburst:

An Open Letter to Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse, in All Caps.

IF YOU'VE GOT TO DO THE EXACT SAME JOKES EVERY SINGLE WEEK, PLEASE TRY AND MAKE SURE THEY'RE NOT REALLY, REALLY WOEFULLY FUCKING SHIT JOKES.




Not really worth the wait, was it? Meanwhile, here's a scan of a photocopy of a storyboard for the title sequence for one of the series' of The Morecambe and Wise Show.



We promise to try and be less rubbish next time we post an update, honestly.
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Sunday, 22 April 2007

Who Knew?

Well, practically everyone by this point, but we're guessing they're still going to do some sort of 'how we did it' shock reveal at the end of the series.



Thanks to vigilant viewers Stephen Piers and Adam Aitch. BrokenTV goodie bags would be winging their ways towards you both were they to exist and could somehow be sent via email.

Is it time for another picture of a storyboard for a series of The Paul Daniels Magic Show, from the days when magic on telly was better? YES IT IS.


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Thursday, 19 April 2007

Raiders Of The Loft Archive: Part Two

Umpteen months ago, a visit to BrokenTV's parents led to the scanning of some old magazine interviews with people who have become more famous since (Bill Bailey, Jon Stewart, and some bloke called Jerry Seinfeld). Here, belatedly, is part two of it. And, for the record, we thought of that title ages before the underwhelming look back at the ITV archive hosted by The Rubbish One Off Of Phoenix Nights. Just to clarify.



Another collection of recovered magazines included a copy of Loaded from November 1995. In amongst the woefully 'laddish' advertisements (Phwoar! What about tits eh, lads? Eh? Tits! Phwoar! Anyway, why not move your bank account to us, we have very competitive rates) was an interview with Lord Harry Hill as he arrives in New York, ready for his first appearance on the Letterman show.

(Readers may wish to click their mouse buttons whilst over the following thumbnails, in order to enlarge the following images into a shiny new browser window. Or shiny new tab, if you're using a modern browser that features the tabulated method of browsing.)



As you might expect, it's worth a read.



Plus it includes some exclusive scribbled artwork of NYC by Lord Harry himself. And an anecdote about Malcolm Hardee kicking someone in the bollocks.



So, how did the whole visit to the USA work out for Harry?

(Spoiler brackets)

Quite obviously, 'Dave' decided to prolong a section of the show where nothing actually happened and which amused absolutely nobody but himself for a large portion of the programme, necessitating Harry getting bumped from the show. Which seems to happen to somebody pretty much every single time we've tried to watch his show. Which is why we can't bloody stand 'Dave' frigging Letterman in the first place. Because he is shit. Which is why, no matter how many times ITV decide to bung it onto one of their digital outlets, it'll always end up moving from a primetime slot to around 3am, before quietly getting dropped altogether.

And relax.


EDITIONS OF PEBBLE MILL WE'D ABSOLUTELY LOVE TO SEE, NUMBER ONE: 29 APRIL 1992
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Tuesday, 17 April 2007

Old Spooky-Chops is back

Back in the days of BrokenTV’s formative years, when it was less a blog than a page torn from the back of an exercise book scrawled on in leaky biro, it had a really rubbish kind of running ‘joke’ between some of its closest chums. Quite often used to pass the time on the way to another daredevil wheeze involving trees, a canal and a really excellent rope swing, there would be an unofficial contest to see who could improvise the longest, most convoluted joke possible. The twist in the seemingly endless tale being that the punchline had to be stultifyingly and overwhelmingly pointless. And that was about it. Well, it was either that or discuss whether anyone we knew had got the foil Liverpool badge in their Football ’85 sticker album yet. Yes, it really is quite fortunate that Thomas Hughes never decided to write a novel about our childhoods. And not just because he’d died 78 years before we were born.

Anyway, while we don’t remember Darren Brown (yes, we’re calling him that on purpose) being a part of our schoolyard clique, we still have a nagging doubt that he was following us around on those balmy August afternoons with a notepad, because he seems to have based an entire series on that very premise. Confused? Well, here’s our synopsis of the first episode of his new series, Trick or Treat.


"I knew you were going to call me that. Aah."

The episode begins with Darren lurking about outside the house of his victim in the middle of the night. Richard Victim, looking quite remarkably like Tubes from Soccer AM, had previously signed a release form allowing Darren to do pretty much what he likes with him. Subsequently, Darren sneaks into him room at 3am, and shoves another contract in the face of a sleepily bewildered Victim, asking him to sign it. Then, Darren asks Victim to pick one of two cards. One is marked ‘Trick’, where something nasty will happen to Richard Victim. The other is marked ‘Nice’, meaning that something ‘nice’ will happen to Victim. Unbeknownst to Victim, the card he chooses is the one marked ‘Trick’. Obviously, because where would the excitement be in having the first episode end with something nice happening to someone? On Super Edgy Friday Night Channel Four? Eh? With the card picked, Darren sneaks off, rummaging through Victim’s kitchen drawers looking for his passport.

Then, cut to a bit of business involving Choc Rolls, The League of Gentlemen and razor blades, and some adverts.

Part two. We now see Richard Victim ambling into town trying to get a new passport photo taken. Presumably because his passport had mysteriously disappeared the morning after spooky-chops had sneaked into his bedroom, but this isn’t explained fully. Guess what, readers? Darren Brown’s crack squad of prop-makers have only assembled a ‘fake’ passport-photo-taking machine in a location where Richard Victim (and presumably NO-ONE ELSE) is likely to wander. What are the odds, eh? Victim does indeed venture beyond the curtains of the mysterious booth, only to be sent to sleep by the monotonous tones of Darren Brown. What will happen next? Well, he’ll be dragged out of the booth, taken to Heathrow Airport, and plonked on a flight to Morocco. Tee hee!


Some people never learn.

After a further bit of previously filmed business, introduced by a Darren Brown voiceover stating how Americans are much more stupid than everyone else, where Darren Brown tries to pull a psychological trick on some Americans in New York, only he doesn’t quite do it right, but they pretend to be impressed anyway to save his blushes (doing a ‘magic trick’ that needs to end with you stating “well, I got most of the word right!” isn’t really good enough to go on telly, Darren). Back to the show proper.

Richie Victim, still out for the count, has now arrived in Marrakech, Morocco. In a corner of a small shop, a team of Darren Brown henchmen are hurriedly reconstructing the fake photo booth, just in time to confine an almost-woken Victim. At the right moment, the crew all retire to their special hiding places, and the luckless Victim awakes.

At this point, the watching millions can barely suppress a collective guffaw as Victim leaves the booth, finding to his massive bemusement that, no! yes!, he’s now in the middle of a foreign country full of snakes. Looking a bit surprised, he wanders around for a bit, sort of wondering exactly what is going on. And…. And…… Aaaaaand…..

Well, there’s the rub. All that happens then is a couple of captions. The first stating that the crew were watching him throughout all of this, and making sure that he doesn’t come to any actual harm. The second stating that they finally told him what was going on when he found the airport, and he was quite relieved that he wasn’t suffering a massive Life On Mars-type coma after all. But, we don’t actually see any of that. Or how he got to the airport. Or how he discovered what country he was in. Or anything. Just sixty seconds of footage of Richard Victim wandering around being understandably bewildered. That was it. The whole set up, the entire Machiavellian plot involving smuggling an unconscious person through two large airports in major cities, and all they bothered broadcasting at the end of it was a confused bloke in a crowd for around a minute.

I know we should be grateful they aren’t just transmitting continuous footage of live badgers having their faces rubbed into cheese graters, or even worse, another series of Born Sloppy, but really. Jeepers, frankly.

Still, it’s not as if Channel Four have become so monumentally lackadaisical they can’t even spell the name of the person behind the most profitable sitcom in their entire history correctly, is it?



Oh dear.

Still, at least Peep Show is still as excellent as ever.

SPECIAL BONUS TREAT RELATING TO WHEN MAGIC ON TV WAS BETTER, AND DON'T PRETEND YOU NEVER LIKED IT, IT WAS ACTUALLY ENTERTAINING AND GOOD, AND YOU LOVED IT AT THE TIME, YOU COLD CYNICAL GITS

It's a scan of a storyboard for the title sequence to a series of The Paul Daniels Magic Show.



Hurrah!
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Wednesday, 4 April 2007

YOUR OPTIMISM STRIKES ME LIKE JUNK MAIL ADDRESSED TO THE DEAD

Managing to learn nothing from the mistakes of others, the ‘creatives’ at Sony have chosen to launch their latest overpriced electronic TV game with an advert that might as well be for an insurance company or mobile phone network.

In a nutshell: a man and woman arrive at a crummy holiday resort in the midst of an argument. Then the maid cleaning the room of a kind of John Locke-type bloke in another room conspires to lose a hand grenade, for it to get found by the stereotypically fluffy small dog of the kind of gay man who doesn’t actually exist anywhere outside of low-budget 1970s British comedy movies. Then the pin somehow is pulled out of the grenade, and via a passing foreign footballer and joke stolen from Dave Allen At Large, ends up next to the suitcase of the arguing couple, where it explodes with precisely enough force to destroy the case itself, but not the contents of the case, or any of the surrounding area. As unscathed banknotes flutter all around, stock-foreigner-type-47 utters the three word phrase that you just know took several months of focus grouping, ‘board storming’, and thousands of dollars paid to people who should be killed with shovels, “this is living”.



This is all well and good, except it clearly doesn’t work. At least the Xbox 360 “cops and robbers car chase” adverts had people playing some sort of game with each other (even if it had just got Microsoft a stern telling off from the ASA, despite the fact the ad was plastered with patronising warning messages). This is just a stupid waste of money; figures recently uncovered show that exactly £249 of the PlayStation3’s £425 RRP has gone straight to funding this marketing campaign. And the three times we saw the ‘teaser’ adverts for the campaign (which were exactly the same as the advert proper, the only difference being it didn’t say ‘PlayStation3’ at the end), we’d just assumed the website address was for the re-launch of Living “Not Just For Women Any More, You Know” TV. And even then, we didn’t really care.

If they had learned from the errors of the past, they’d have realised that this sort of thing frequently leads to the downfall of many a brand, extra-especially when all that pops up at the end is a website address. The thinking behind such campaigns clearly being “the consumers will be so energised by our cleverly cryptic commercial, they’re all going to check out the website, and subsequently the product will be sold! We’re so good at marketing!” Of course, in realityville, people stay seated in front of their televisions waiting for the second half of the football to kick off, and by the time they next get around to going on the internet, the 3% of viewers who might have been interested in the advert have forgotten if it was a dotcom, -co.uk, -tv, or if the words had any hyphens in between them, and it’s not really worth finding out. Because, and any campaign-synergisers reading this might want to take note, they were actually only watching television because of the large chunks of programming that occur in between the adverts.

Oh, and minus several trillion bonus points any advertising people who think running such an advert-with-only-a-web-address-at-the-end-that-doesn’t-even-say-what-the-product-is in the cinema is anything other than the world’s stupidest idea. They’re only going to be walking away from that multiplex with an opinion on the film they’ve watched, not in a clamour to see what wowthisisreallyimpressive.tv actually does once the 2460kb Flash intro has finished preloading.

But anyway, this lengthy intro is only here as a prelude to BrokenTV’s Top Three Rubbish Advertising Campaigns That Didn’t Say What They Were Actually Selling, And Which Subsequently Failed Massively. Join us as we don an ironic suit and walk down the road holding an oversized haddock whilst wearing a wry smile to the sound of The Supernaturals, for some reason which we’re not going to adequately explain.


NUMBER THREE
Breathe.com (2000)


Real quote from MeejaGrauniad: "My real, real favourite right now is breathe.com. What they're trying to do is be a true lifestyle product. You can do SMS, you can do Wap, you can do Voice . . . it's brilliant." As if anyone ever gave a flying shit about 'doing' WAP.

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE AD?
A man walks out of his house in moody Flame-o-vision. Along the way to wherever his destination might be, others join him. Eventually, he arrives at a beach. The only sound is of the massed throng breathing noisily. The voiceover utters the phrase ‘It's amazing what happens when you breathe’. Well, you don’t drop dead, for starters.

WHAT WAS IT FOR?
An ISP, but not that you’d know from the advert. And as such, you wouldn’t then make the decision to move to them for your ISPing needs. And so, it had to resort to the monumentally stupid decision to offer people £50 ‘lifetime’ unmetered internet subscriptions, this at a pre-FRIACO time when most ISPs had to charge per-minute in order to break even.

What sort of company was it? Well, apart from being the kind of start-up that insists on writing it’s name in lower-case, the sort that would come out with the following drivel: "[B]reathe's target audience represents the core of the future modern technology market. They are 18-35 years old and are mostly active mobile socialisers and technology sophisticates, united by brands and media whose values fit with their own. They are [B]reathe's 'Modern Urbanists'." Kind of makes you glad they went bust shortly afterwards, doesn’t it?

NUMBER TWO
Boo.com (1999)


This competition might still be open, you know.

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE AD?
A geek dressed in sportswear vomited into a bin. How could it possibly fail?

WHAT WAS IT FOR?
It was for Boo.com, an online sportswear company with illusions of grandeur that went up the wall hilariously quickly. That’s what you get for referring to yourselves as “a gateway to world cool”. Of course, running lots of advertising for your website two months before it actually launches doesn’t help much. More info on boo at Wikipedia.

NUMBER ONE
Scoot.com (1999)


archive.org didn't help us much here. Still, we're quite pleased to have foiled Scoot's attempt to stop us doing this screengrab, by deftly evading the robots(.txt) they'd despatched to destroy us.

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE AD?
There were actually lots of short adverts, sometimes several in the same commercial break, featuring people ‘doing’ ‘stuff’, and then remarking how it looks like they need a scoot. Whatever one of those was. Then the brave (i.e. shit) company logo would flash on screen, and six million awestruck viewers would forego the second half of Strike It Rich in order to get their 56k modems to find out what it was all about. In theory.

WHAT WAS IT FOR?
Scoot.com, a sort of proto-118118 directory enquiries and listings service. Except nobody really knew it was that at the time, and couldn’t really be bothered to find out what it was. It’s still going now, but still doesn’t seem to know what it’s there for. Mind you, we’ve ill-advisedly bought a domain name on a whim before now, it’s just that we didn’t have a multi-million pound marketing blitz shortly afterwards (we put up a holding page with a rubbish joke on it, and that was about it).


Yes, all for ill-fated dotcom boom companies that are quite easy to search for. Well, you try remembering advertising campaigns that were so crap no-one can remember them, especially when you’re as forgetful as us. We frequently go to work leaving our front door unlocked, you know, it’s a miracle we can remember how to type in the words for an entire blog post without stopping and wondering whether we left the bath running yesterday evening or not.

But anyway, how should Sony be promoting their new machine? They could start by taking their lead from surely the greatest series of adverts for a videogame console EVER.



Yes, that grainy picture is correct. It really is Lord Eric Morecambe, in a pair of Pac-Man Deeley Boppers, playing on an Atari 2600. Mad props to NOTBBC for putting these links onto YouTube:

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