Clearly, anything is now possible. News that Jimmy Barnes has been awarded his own ice cream flavour has completely knocked me sideways and caused me to question everything I once believed. The decision to give Jimmy his own variety is, of course, highly inappropriate for a number of reasons, not least of which the fact that the ice cream in question is a Peters’ ‘Drumstick’ and, to the very best of my knowledge, Jimmy couldn’t do a para-diddle if his life depended on it. Don’t get me wrong; Jimmy is great and deserves to be honoured. I’m just not sure that an ice cream – as tasty and delicious as it may be – is quite the way to do it.
Clearly, anything is now possible. News that Jimmy Barnes has been awarded his own ice cream flavour has completely knocked me sideways and caused me to question everything I once believed. The decision to give Jimmy his own variety is, of course, highly inappropriate for a number of reasons, not least of which the fact that the ice cream in question is a Peters’ ‘Drumstick’ and, to the very best of my knowledge, Jimmy couldn’t do a para-diddle if his life depended on it. Don’t get me wrong; Jimmy is great and deserves to be honoured. I’m just not sure that an ice cream – as tasty and delicious as it may be – is quite the way to do it.
I must have missed a meeting. I don’t remember exactly when we, as a nation, decided that the best way to respect a lifetime of good work and achievement was through dessert. I realize the whole ‘Sir Phil’ royal knighthood debacle set the honours system back a notch or two, but the way things are headed, it looks like we’re on the verge of ditching ‘Australian of the Year’ in favour of a signature range of fudge flavours and breakfast cereals. But maybe there’s little point resisting. Instead of trying to stop the inevitable, the time has come to embrace it.
Musicians should all be required to endorse something other than their own work. By combining groceries and rock music, we will stimulate economic activity that makes everyone a winner. ‘Nick Cave and Bad Seeds Seedless Watermelons’ would revolutionise the fruit and vegetable market. Midnight Oil’s ‘Power and the Passionfruit’ would draw overdue attention to the quiet achiever of natural snack foods. In fact, we should move towards a model whereby it’s illegal to sell something that doesn’t carry the authoritative weight of celebrity endorsement. Forget food star ratings and nutritional advice; I just want to know if Beyonce likes it.
It shouldn’t just be rock stars, though. There’s no reason why other artists shouldn’t also get their share of cross-promotional glory. German composer Carl Orff may have shuffled off this mortal coil, but there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be rolled out to lend his name to the right product. His best-known work, ‘O Fortuna’ comes from Carmen Burina. Pairing him with an affordable small sedan is, frankly, a match made in advertising heaven. People would be queuing up to part with their hard-earned and get behind the wheel of a Carl Orff ‘Carmen Barina’. The stereo would be set to play ‘O Fortuna’ on a continuous loop which, if nothing else, will frighten pedestrians at a intersections and make the guy with a bottle of detergent and the squidgy mop think twice about offering to clean your windscreen.
It’s a little known fact that the author of the quantum theory, Max Planck, was a massive fan of Barbeque Shapes. Indeed, his thoughts on atomic and sub-atomic particles were said to be deeply influenced by the little bits of red flavouring found on his favourite savoury biscuit. When having to decide between Barbeque Shapes and, say, one of those seaweed infused crackers that (to me at any rate) taste like tablets of nothing, surely the endorsement of Germany’s finest theoretical physicist would influence your decision-making.
Friedrich Nietzsche may have been a nihilist, but he loved nothing more than to hunker down on a wet afternoon for a few rounds of ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippo’. This set him apart from most other philosophers of the era including his hero, Arthur Schopenhauer, who was known to prefer ‘Ker-plunk’. That the link between great philosophers and popular board games has not been promoted before now is, I feel, something of an indictment on the advertising world more generally.
When I look at a product like the Ab-Cruncher I think of two things: a washboard stomach you could eat your dinner on and Gore Vidal. But for too long these two entities for good have been campaigning for a better world separately when they ought to have combined forces long ago. Not only did Gore produce some substantial pieces of literature; he was renown in literary circles for his well-defined abdominal muscles.
Julius Caesar is an obvious candidate to endorse a set of stainless steel knives that never need sharpening; the kind that can slice through a regular household brick as easily as a piece of cheese and Benito Mussolini a natural fit for some type of hair replacement clinic. Kaiser Wilhelm had a passion for multi-grain bread and there’s nothing Napoleon Bonaparte liked more after a long day on the Russian frontier than a cup of tea with a Jaffa Cake. This will revolutionise the way we shop.
It’s an interesting question: what’s the best way to pay tribute to someone? I suppose ice cream is as good as any. You can win medals, plaques and statuettes, but you can’t put them in a bowl and shove them into your mouth by the spoonful whilst watching re-runs of The Bill. I have to admit that I’m yet to try Jimmy’s ice cream. I’d like to tell you that I’m waiting until he comes out with a line of microwave meals and a gourmet cheese but it’s not true. Nor can I say that I don’t have the stomach for it. Rather, it’s just not to my taste.