Casanova feels bite in siz­zling Wimpy ad­vert

Weekend Argus (Saturday Edition) - - MEDIA& MARKETING -

WHEN it comes to deal­ing with the op­po­site sex, men are of­ten so self-ab­sorbed they lose what lit­tle grasp they have on re­al­ity.

An ex­am­ple – and there will be no names or iden­ti­fy­ing de­tails to spare those in­volved – oc­curred a few years ago when a gor­geous young, wannabe re­porter ar­rived on a news­pa­per not a mil­lion miles away from Sauer Street. With a few tosses of her blonde tresses, flick­ers of im­pos­si­bly long eye­lashes and a wig­gle shown off to per­fec­tion in a tight mini-skirt, she charmed the male ex­ecs.

That charm, by the way, was nec­es­sary, be­cause she had only a nod­ding ac­quain­tance with writ­ing.

All of them be­lieved they were the sole ob­jects of her at­ten­tion, and dev­as­tat­ingly at­trac­tive. And they went out of their way to help her when the news ed­i­tor, me (one thing life has taught me is to know when I am be­ing played), re­fused to panel-beat her rub­bish.

There are fewer things sad­der in the world than men who do not re­alise in what league they should be play­ing… and they didn’t.

I was re­minded of that male char­ac­ter trait by the lat­est Wimpy ad, where we see a man who be­lieves he is the sole fo­cus of the at­ten­tion of an at­trac­tive wait­ress.

His name, we dis­cover, is Mandla, and when she brings him his Wimpy Big W Break­fast, he thinks the hash brown W is an M.

Hey, I’m sur­prised, he says: I didn’t know you knew who I am. We didn’t she says, turn­ing the let­ter around, it’s just the W as in Wimpy.

Un­de­terred – and that’s an­other sad thing about men: they are un­de­terred in the face of over­whelm­ing ev­i­dence of lack of in­ter­est – he pro­ceeds to sug­gest that the W means “We”…

She is po­lite, but, no. Not go­ing to hap­pen. What fool be­lieves… It’s a lit­tle bit of light-hearted fun, grounded, though, in the un­der­stand­ing of that ba­sic hu­man truth about men.

At the same time, though, it also show­cases the tempt­ing and plen­ti­ful Big Break­fast. So it gets across the mar­ket­ing point.

Hu­mour and a call-to-ac­tion mar­ket­ing mes­sage rolled into one get an Orchid for Wimpy and its agency, FCB Joburg.

And, of course, not one man who sees the ad is go­ing to see a re­flec­tion of him­self in it…

If you choose the ap­pro­pri­ate time and place and the ap­pro­pri­ate ac­tiv­ity, you can be­come a world record-holder, like me.

True story: I am the First Per­son To Toyi-Toyi In The Antarc­tic. It hap­pened in early 1994 at the old Sanae base on the ice shelf. It was wit­nessed by Roger Mak­ings of the Sun­day Times. And no one has chal­lenged me on it.

It’s a great din­ner-ta­ble story be­cause ev­ery­one knows, with cer­tainty, no one beat me to such an ob­scure tri­umph.

That sense of ab­sur­dity is present in Kia Mo­tors planned “World’s Long­est Test Drive” event, which is about to take place and will see a new Sportage driven around the coun­try.

Firstly, my def­i­ni­tion of a test drive is when one per­son takes a car on a non-stop jour­ney to see how it goes. Will this hap­pen with Kia? Nope. The car will take a cou­ple of weeks to go around the coun­try and will be driven by scores of dif­fer­ent peo­ple.

That makes it, peo­ple at Kia, a roadshow, not a world record.

I have googled “world’s long­est test drive” and, to be sure, there is no such en­try in the Guin­ness World Records.

There are, though, a num­ber of car com­pa­nies which have done long-dis­tance cross-coun­try drives to launch or test new ve­hi­cles. So, Kia’s con­cept, I’m afraid, is noth­ing new.

I do know South Africans are easy to fool – oth­er­wise why would we be in such a gen­eral mess as a na­tion? – but this is a bit of an in­sult even to that level of in­tel­li­gence.

So, Kia, you get this week’s Onion for World Record Mo­tor­ing Hot Air.

Then again – maybe the First Sportage To Squash A Cheeky Jour­nal­ist slot is still open…

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