Niamh Walsh’s Manifesto
Joy to the World! The Christmas ad has come
AN adorable duck bathing in a bubble bath. An animated venus fly-trap smashing presents to smithereens. A wide-eyed child full of mischief. A co-conspirator granny. An exasperated mammy. A singalong song by Andrea Bocelli. Joy to the World!
Christmas has returned in all its magical, wonder-filled glory.
The Christmas adverts have been dropping like Santa’s sack down a chimney.
In recent years we were bombarded with dreary adverts, riddled with sanctimony wrapped up as seasonal cheer.
While my all-time favourite Christmas advert is John Lewis’s The Bear and the Hare, this year’s offering from The Hastings Hotel Chain has me choking.
If you’ve not seen it, The Duck & The Doorman is great stuff. The cutest, chirpiest duckling skateboards into the lobby of a hotel, past baubles and lights with a look of sheer, unbridled delight on her little duck face.
Eventually, she makes her way to the cosiest of rooms where her date is splashing about in a bubble bath while he is dressed in a top hat and bow tie.
Meanwhile, John Lewis – the retailer that is arguably responsible for the annual tradition of the now ubiquitous Christmas promotional advert – has returned to form.
In recent years, John Lewis adverts were as disappointing as finding a giant bag of coal under the Christmas tree.
Instead of spreading cheer, the UK department store chain has recently managed to disseminate only drear.
But apparently, having seen the error of their ways, the 2023 John Lewis campaign is a triumph.
Featuring a young boy who is given a present of a seed that sprouts into a house-wrecking, hell-raising plant, the advert has all the bells and whistles of what should be the true meaning of Christmas – family, and fun and cherished times.
To add to the daftness, it has an operatic backdrop of Festa, sung by Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli.
The John Lewis message rings loud, is evocative and inspires plenty of memories from Christmases past and hopes for Christmases to come; even if only for the most fleeting of moments.
Ryan’s back, but his ‘family’ is being cut
RYAN Tubridy’s gleeful ‘new-job, new-start’ statement this week was a total kick in the guts to his former colleagues at RTÉ, whom he previously referred to as ‘family’.
In a staggeringly tone-deaf display, just two days after staff at RTÉ were informed that 400 of them would soon lose their jobs, Tubridy blew his own trumpet.
His agent Noel Kelly also saw fit to release a few words lauding his lucrative client’s new signing.
‘We are incredibly proud of Ryan. His talents, strength, professionalism and resilience are to be applauded,’ Mr Kelly said.
‘Take a bow, Mr Tubridy, you are wonderful and inspirational.’
Noel Kelly is either wittingly or unwittingly ignoring the talents in the backroom teams that enabled Tubridy to be a star.
What of the people who – under enormous strain and stress – turn up every day to do their jobs for a pittance? The teams like Prime Time Investigates who have shed buckets of blood, sweat and tears with ground-breaking exposés into an array of underhand and criminal dealings that directly affect the people of this State.
So while Kelly thinks Tubridy should ‘take a bow’, I can’t be alone in thinking he should take a running jump.
My tirades in a taxi are a touché subject
THIS week, I found myself stuck in a taxi in interminable traffic – slightly the worse for wear, the morning-after-the-night-before. So, wallowing in self-pity from my self-inflicted pain, I proceeded to unburden all of my woes onto Mr Taxi Man. I griped for a good €7 about the traffic. Another €4 on the state of the city. Then used up the rest of the taxi meter on the general state of the world.
As Mr Taxi Man motored, I moaned. Suddenly, I jolted back to reality, realising that the taxi driver is the one who is supposed to be whinging about the state of the world, while the passenger is duty-bound to nod along.
I said as such to Mr Taxi Man, who agreed, adding: ‘Now I realise how painful it is for passengers’. Touché, Mr Taxi Man. Touché.
Show designer fake baby scents the Dior
IT’S no secret that I’m a sucker for designer labels. But, Dior, oh Dior. Designer label Dior really does take the proverbial.
This week, the French fashion house announced a brand spanking new product line of scented waters and spritzers for babies – for actual newborn babies.
Now I don’t have kids, but even I know that a baby’s scent is one of the most tantalising smells, and it can’t be produced in a lab or packages in snazzy boxes and sold for extortionate prices.
Dior’s cynical attempts to indoctrinate babies into the designer lifestyle from the womb really is a sartorial step far too far.
Ashling’s loved ones are a credit to her
ASHLING Murphy’s heartbroken family will probably never recover from the gaping hole that has been left in their lives.
But the courage and commitment to honour their daughter displayed by Ashling’s family, and her utterly bereft boyfriend Ryan Casey, should provide some solace.
That they looked Ashling’s murderer directly in the face and conveyed the damage and pain his actions caused on that fateful day is a testament to Ashling.
While Ashling’s loved ones laid bare their pain and torment, Justice Minister Helen McEntee was waxing lyrical on social media about ‘reform’, ‘lessons learned’.
Words are cheap; the lives of women and girls are priceless.