Felix

I've been holding back for a week to post this blog because I was waiting. Waiting and watching. (Talking of which, I just realised I've missed the 3rd episode of Heroes. Oh well, there goes another slightly over hyped US show that I won't get into). Watchin'. Waitin'. Like the man who sits staring at the sky waiting for a shooting star or the paparazzi photographer who hangs around *INSERT GUN-TOTING/HEROIN-USING CELEBRITY HERE* waiting for a shooting star.

(I couldn't decide where to go with this joke - whether to use the obvious Doherty, the topical Phil Spector, or maybe the classic OJ Simpson - so I leave it up to you, the reader).

Just watchin' and waitin' and watchin'. Looking out for that glimpse of something special.

Alas, my wait has been in vain. At least I have the memory from last Tuesday night when I saw something just super.

I don't want to over egg my pudding here because maybe you saw this advert (for that is what we are going to be discussing) and you didn't think much of it. Maybe you saw it and thought "Hmm, another plain old cat food advert". Maybe you've seen it loads and it passes over you like a the gentle breeze through a slightly ajar window. (It's a bit chilly in here, but the paint is stinking). Maybe you saw it and was tickled by it. "That's a bit humerous" said your inner monologue, "But I have better things to do with my memory than storing it to a later date when I'll spend an hour or so writing about it". Probably you didn't see the advert and are going to read this with a slight but nagging worry for my unborn child.

For at this time last week, Mrs P came down stairs to find me literally in stitches. Yes I said literally. I was LOL, LMAO, RFOL, LSMTIACB, TRDMF and the rest. My sides were literally splitting. (I said literally again. And there is nothing that you can do about it).

I can't actually remember much of the Felix advert, but by the time of the tag line, the piece de resistence if you will, I was already chuckling uncontrollably. Then it was there, the killer line:

"Cats like Felix like Felix Roasted"

This sent me over the edge. I tried to explain to Mrs P, but I couldn't breathe. I gasped hopelessly for breath. I was a man drowning in quick sand. Helen started laughing too. We were both falling deeper into a pit of hysteria. I grabbed solid masonary to steady myself. My head was spinning. Slowly the laughter died, before raising again when I thought it had passed. Finally, through shear strength of will, I calmed myself.

I don't think there is too much to say about Felix Roasted, but I would like to take my proverbial hat off to the ad agency who convinced the men at Felix to run with this campaign. I mean, that must of been one helluva Powerpoint slideshow with hundreds of animations and flying text.

The brand representation of Felix, a cat called Felix, likes himself roasted. There is no other way of taking that tag line. He is cannablistic. He loves his own tasty flesh cooked at 200C (180C in a fan oven) and served up with a selection of condiments. That is what they are saying. And I found it freaking funny, okay?