Hello. I’m in an advert.
Hello. I’m a woman, in an advert. You can tell I’m a woman because I’m wearing a dress. Or maybe a skirt. But not trousers. Because women don’t wear trousers. And certainly not jeans. Women don’t wear such clothes. Only someone who doesn’t care about their appearance would look so bad.
Hello. I’m a man, in an advert. I don’t care about clothes unless my wife nags me.
Hello. I’m a stressed mother with a young family, in an advert. You can tell I’m a stressed woman with a young family as I have a two loud screaming kids tugging at my skirt. The older one is a boy. The younger is a girl. Well, after all, every first born is a boy. And every second born is a girl. If it was anything else, where would my husband’s wealth go to when he dies?
Hello. I’m a stressed father with a young family, in an advert. You know I’m stressed. My tie is loose. I’ve just spent all day working out who is going to get my inheritance.
Hello. I’m a woman whose man is shaving, in an advert. You can tell I’m a woman whose man is shaving as I’m wearing a thin, satin nightdress. In a minute I’m going to stroke my man’s chin downwards, and remark how smooth his new razor shaves. I certainly won’t stroke my man’s chin upwards as that will be all stubbly and will hurt. Maybe once he’s done, I’m going to lie in the bath and shave my legs surrounded by candles because that, my friend, is how to live!
Hello. I’m a man whose shaving, in an advert. I’m too busy to notice my woman in her satin nightdress as I’m being impressed by the fact that this razor has twenty – yes, count ’em – TWENTY blades! Wow! I mean, just how many blades can they put in this thing?!
Hello. I’m a mother of two annoying teenage kids who never clean their teeth, in an advert. You can tell I’m a mother with two annoying teenage kids who never clean their teeth as I have to stand behind them in the bathroom whilst they both do the brushing in synchronisation. Despite the fact they’re fighting all the time, it’s heart-warming to be able to see them brought together in the happiness of putting some toothpaste in their mouths.
Hello. I’m a father of two annoying teenage kids who never clean their teeth, in an advert. If I’m not careful, she’d drag me in there to clean my teeth with the bloody kids. Well if I wasn’t hiding in the pub anyway.
Hello. I’m a woman who is amazed at how good my man is at cleaning, in an advert. He must have spent hours getting everything so spotless!
Hello. I’m a man who is good at cleaning, in an advert. Naturally I haven’t spent hours doing it. What do you take me for? No, see what I’ve done is use this miracle product that means I can do everything in about five wipes of a cloth. What have these women being doing all these years? I mean, you just spray some chemicals and then lie in the empty bath reading a car magazine. That’s the life.
Hello. I’m a woman who has a car, in an advert. You can tell I’m a woman who has a car as I’m sat in a car. It’s is small and practical and can fit the two kids in AND the shopping! Result!
Hello. I’m a man who has a car, in an advert. I’m off to drive around tight corners on Italian mountains! VROOOM VROOM! Oh bugger. I forgot to get the baby food.
Hello. I’m a woman who has a man who wants to cook, in an advert. You can I’m a woman who has a man who wants to cook, because it’s all I can do to stop myself from making snide, sarcastic comments as he attempts to cook me a gourmet meal. Ha! He really is hopeless! Look at him! He’s just spilt taco sauce on the worktop! Bloody hell! Just wait till I’ve spent five hours slagging him off on the phone to all my mates! Well that will be after I’ve had my stomach pumped. I mean, who does he think he is? I spend all day at home looking after the kids and he returns home with some sort of pathetic notion that men should share the housework! God, what’s he going to try next? DIY? Save me please!
Hello. I’m a man who wants to cook, in an advert. I’m blissfully ignorant of all my partner’s snide comments because I’m too busy reading the instructions on the back of the packet. Gourmet food, here we go!
Hello. I’m a woman who lives in a house where some DIY needs to be done, in an advert. You can tell… oh hang on. DIY can only be done by men so I don’t feature much.
Hello. I’m a man who lives in a house where some DIY needs to be done, in an advert. I love power tools. See my drill and HEAR ME ROAR!
Hello. I’m a lesbian. You won’t see me in an advert.
Hello. I’m a gay man. You won’t see me either. Unless it’s for some dodgy late night chatline thing. In which case I’ll probably be wearing a sailors hat for no apparent reason.
Hello. I’m an advertising executive. You can tell I’m an advertising executive because I’ve come up with all the above. It’s a bit unrealistic. Well a lot unrealistic but I excuse myself by claiming that I only have 30 seconds in an advert to tell a story, but in reality it’s because it’s far quicker and easier to use stereotypes, and means we can target the ad at people with so few brains that the concept of a man doing the cooking would blow their tiny minds. Plus if I waste less time writing this stuff, I get more time to drink champagne in the wine bar down the street from our expensive offices.