Holidays: Triffic, Richard

You know you've made it in the blogging world when one of the swollen masses hanging off your every word makes a suggestion for a future blog topic. And by 'suggestion' I mean 'threatened to unsubscribe if I didn't do as I was told'.

So here we are.

Those of you who like this television lark will no doubt by now have come across Thomas Cook's latest offering. They've employed a good-looking bloke from the world of football and his moderately successful singer wife to give us their unique take on the world of foreign holidays.

Sadly, they haven't chosen David 'Goldenlegs' Beckham and his tubby wife, Victoria. Instead they've employed...wait for it....snigger...only the Redknapps!

That's right; they've forked out good money to hear the inane ramblings of Jamie "I sit like I'm having a shit, triffic" Redknapp and his wife, Louise Nurding (I refuse to acknowledge their marriage, much in the same way as you-would-although-she's-a-racist-skank Cheryl Tweedy).

The premise is simple (ironically); they wander about various sun-drenched resorts, sporting fewer and fewer clothes as they progress, spouting nonsensical statements that would make Steven Seagal's script writer blush. It's toe-curling stuff (cringeworthy, not orgasm-inducing), as they stare into each others eyes going "We'll never forget it" and other sentiment-laden twaddle designed to make the social underclass of this great nation say "I tell you what, Dean - we should go on an 'oliday like them Redknapps. Fook the mortgage, it'll be a rart laff". Or similar.

I'm all for celebrities promoting products. Sutcliffe's endorsement of Facebook was an unmitigated success; likewise Glitter's Toys R Us campaign. It goes to show that if you get the right celebrity mug behind your product, the results are literally* mind-blowing. Which makes TC's choice of Mr & Mrs Redders more baffling. Here we have an impossibly good-looking couple (worryingly bereft of their children, it has to be said) sauntering around like they've got all the time in the world. That's cos they have. She does the Clothes Show once in a blue moon (and probably Loose Women - every other harridan of a certain age does), while he rocks up for a couple of hours on a Sunday, suffixes everything with 'Triffic' or 'Richard' then fucks off with several thousand quid in his sky rocket. It's easy to flounce about in these high-class resorts when you're wadded and do less work than a teacher in a snowstorm.

Not for a minute am I begrudging them their rewards. Let's face it, if Ronseal called and asked you and your bird to front their latest range of weedkillers on the Costa Del Sol, you'd be all over it. I'm just surprised they've chosen a couple so banal and non-threatening they make Mr. and Mrs. Michael Owen look like MTV fly-on-the-wall documentary fodder.

In conclusion, in these financially buggered times, advertisers are under more pressure than ever to make every marketing pound count. To that end, following these industry-standard rules should ensure a safe voyage through the choppy waters of product promotion:

- Employ Kerry Katona to front your campaign

That is all.


* Before any pedants point out that it isn't 'literally' mind-blowing, this is a deliberate dig at Redknapp's propensity to use the word in the wrong context constantly. "He's literally been on fire in the first half, Jeff", etc. He is to the English language what Piers Morgan is to light entertainment.