August 23, 2007
Gets Nervous And Fails To Take Off.
AxeJet - Prematurely Ejaculates In The Faces Of The Winners.
Remember all those sexily suggestive television adverts on the telly? You know, the ones with beautiful air hostesses (or “Mostesses” as the marketing gurus so cleverly named them).
They would be seen flirtatiously cavorting in the cabins with the passengers of the AxeJet, whilst a sexy voice over lady, the Cell C sexy voice over lady to be exact, would say - in a sexy voice - “AxeJet. Get On. Get Off”.
Well, in the grand tradition of the classic high school tease, when it came time for the nitty gritty, the whole AxeJet campaign turned into a giant let down.
|
It was supposed to be the promotional event of the year. But the high-flying fantasy of a private luxury jet, staffed by glamorous hostesses catering to the every whim of celebrities and competition winners, came crashing to earth this week amid threats of legal action when “the Axejet” failed to take off. The flight and the wild party at the end of it were part of a marketing campaign for Axe, a deodorant for men, made by Unilever. It was meant to publicise the launch of Axe’s new fragrance by giving competition winners the trip of a lifetime to party hotspot Ibiza, in Spain. But celebrities, competition winners and journalists were all left stranded at OR Tambo International Airport when the private jet didn’t show up. [via The Times] |
Ouch. Well, I’m pretty sure someone is going to get their balls put in a vice for this.
Personally, I never got the whole Axe vibe. I remember spraying myself silly with Ego (it’s more aptly named predecessor) during the heady days of Catholic primary school.
There I was, a sprightly 11 year old, looking to pick up the hottest girl on the playground, who hung out with the coolest guy in grade 7, but only because he was 16 and could drive.
After gulping down a shot of raspberry Lecol, I tentatively waddled over and knocked her plastic cooldrink bottle out of her hand, causing both of us to immediately reach to pick it up. Our eyes locked as we bent down, just like in the Ego advert I had seen, and I knew she would soon be mine.
Alas, things didn’t go according to plan, as these things often tend to do.
She told me that I smelt of cat urine, which was a fair comment - not used to being so close to her, I had nervously made a wee, which had begun running down my leg. As a reward for this grand achievement, I then also earned a sharp punch in the solar plexus from her 16 year old boyfriend, leaving me sprawled in the dust, reeking of piss and regret, as they sped off in his Ford escort, which was really his dad’s.
So yes, excuse me for not sympathising.
Support Our Backers:
