Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little Lies

I like to lie. Not down, as in not telling the truth. I think it is both big and incredibly clever. Only this evening, I had much fun telling my good wife that I hadn’t purchased any chocolate covered confectionary for her down at the local food-store. Not only was it hi-larious, but it also made me look good when it turned out that in fact I had bought her some. I am a great husband.

(Product name change. Dime Bar = Daim Bar. WTF??)

Not everyone should be allowed to lie. I think it is reasonable to expect our doctors and teachers to retain a certain level of truth, at least when presenting the facts of their jobs. Other professions, such as mechanic or law academic*, have a much looser open relationship with the truth. Some occupations, such as being a punt tour guide on the river Cam, seem to have the telling of massive pork pies as a pre-requisite higher than the ability to use a big stick.

Advertising has a similar approach to the truth as that of politics. In an ideal world, the advertiser would freely lie about their product and there would be no comeback at all. A car company could say “Ah oui, this autocar changes into a big robot that can ice-skate, non?” Purveyors of disgusting foodstuffs could pretend that their dehydrated chemical mush was in fact mined by some ridiculous stereotypes. And pharmaceutical companies could pretend that through the use of sickly scented gas you can have any girl you like. Ahh chloroform, where would my love life have been without you?

Of course these are real, lying adverts. But the fact is they use advertising lies that no-one really believes are true. If an advert feels that there is a chance it might be accused of not telling the whole truth, then it resorts to using small print.

Small print is a method of saying something good loudly, whilst saying the truth quickly and quietly. Unfortunately it doesn’t work in conversation. If at the end of a first date you say something like “I had a great time tonight. We will really have to do this again. I will call you soon.” followed by the disclaimer “This is not a binding committal to us meeting or speaking again. ‘Great time’ is only relative to the last month of watching late night poker whilst eating citric flavoured pork scratchings and drinking Merrydown cider. Offer made on condition that my date with the captain of the local netball team goes badly and I am still desperately lonely. All subsequent meals must be paid for in accordance to personal consumption. Your first drink will be provided free, but all subsequent drinks must be purchased in a ‘rounds’ type system unless there is a clear chance of some sweet loving.” It just doesn’t work.

In written form, it obviously does work, and small print can often be found loitering around at the end of financial adverts or for things that are too good to be true. However, some adverts inexplicably seem to feel it is necessary to safeguard themselves against even the most dim-witted of persons. Like the Daily Mail, who felt its advert for a free Paul McKenna DVD needed the small type “This is not hypnotism” scrolling along the bottom. This leads me to believe that at some point the Mail was considering trying to hypnotise people through its advert and thus needed to reassure everyone, most of all itself.

Oral-B also uses ridiculous small print in the form of the word “Dramatisation” on their toothbrush ad. Does anyone really need to be told that the giant swinging bristles of the CGI brush that dislodges boulder-sized lumps of plaque, perhaps isn’t 100% how it happens? Maybe they are the same people who still need to be told that the camera behind the goal is showing the reverse angle. (Who are those fools? I know – Carlton Palmer).

Other small print is just amusing, like the warning for the Robert Altman film that it contains mild comic references to suicide. I’ve been trying to think how a reference to suicide can be both mild and comic, like a light-hearted anecdote told between the well-to-do, but it is beyond my capability.

Finally, I would like to turn my attention to the biggest liars of all. Gemini FM, Exeter tin-pot radio station. For the last few months they have been running an advert, or segue way between songs, where Idiot Man (for it is he), says things like:

“Gemini FM. The only place where you will hear Jamiriqui followed by Christina Aguillera.”

and

“Gemini FM. The only place where you will hear Razorlight followed by the Scissor Sisters.”

and

“Gemini FM. The only place where you will hear Eminem followed by the Chilli Peppers.”

It’s such a big lie, that it stoopifies me that they can say it. Every radio station that plays pop music plays those artists. Most of them have problem played them following each other. And this is where lying advertising goes too far. It is one thing to tell a small half-truth, or to use fanciful imagery to illustrate your point: it is another to take the truth, douse it in petrol, burn it with a blow torch before urinating on it and dancing on its sodden remains.

This advert needs small print. It needs big small print. It needs klaxons played before and after it, with 12 Gregorian monks chanting in two tone “Li - ar. Li - ar” throughout its duration. I sincerely hope all involved are damned for all eternity for their lies. Don't think I don't mean that**.

*Small Print: Some readers might take umbrage at this comment. Of course, I’m kidding. There are many fine mechanics who couldn’t lie if they’re favourite oily rag depended on it.

** Make that all eternity plus 1