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. Extract from The Times:
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.
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.
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