Ah! Now for a sit down… Why would anyone make an ad for a bank with a knitted doll or a plastic flower that talks? Dolls and plastic flowers don’t talk… or do they? Maybe I missed something.
Now which bank was it? (pause) Come on think! What was its name? Crikey you’d think I’d remember, after all it’s a doll and a plastic flower telling me where to bank, maybe the alzheimers is kicking in … nah, can’t remember… it’s escaped me…
It’s not the ‘which bank?’ is it? I know them because they scored a yank agency who recommended a basketball hoop for complaints. I didn’t think a bank had complaints? Then again, I’m absolutely unrealistic, I expect dolls and plastic flowers to be seen and not heard.
Maybe it’s the bank with the little horse who makes suggestions on customer service to that ridiculous fat joker? Next we’ll have orang-utans as tellers… come to think of it I met one of them at my local branch yesterday – orange hair and all!
And I just know goldfish aren’t supposed to have an opinion… are they? So why is that piscatorial creature dishing out free advice to that lame looking facilitator who talks to an empty training room – empty except for the gold fish on the table that is. Who the hell invited a gold fish to a training session?
Maybe I’ll give up on my bank, apart from the orang-utan on the front desk; they don’t have talking dolls or flowers, no little horses… not an aquarium in sight. Mmm, I haven’t spotted a horny looking sheep jumping out of the corn flake packs at the local supermarket either and I know for a fact that the local Optus shop have given the elephant, the giraffe, the ostrich and the racoons the heave ho. Probably unhygienic! Think about all that poo – it’d look like Noah’s Ark.
I wonder who started this preoccupation with animals anyway? I know a few financial advisers who show a remarkable likeness to our reptilian friends… but really it’s getting ridiculous. I’m obviously too silly to understand all this stuff. If a stuffed doll or a plant started a conversation with me I’d be reluctant to take their advice anyway.
Wait on, I think I’ve got it… thanks Bill the Alpaca Farmer (that’s Alpacas not Llama’s) maybe you’ve solved it for me. I’m obviously looking at it all wrong, it’s about insurance right?… No? I’ve missed the point completely? It’s what? It’s entertainment… and all this time I thought TV commercials were supposed to make you aware or show understanding or maybe sell the product.
Wait a minute, wait… what’s this? A sock in a washer… talking to a girl? It’s chewing her underwear! Good grief its telling her it’s in luvvvvvvv? So that’s why I keep losing one sock in the wash. Anyone seen a black spare sock running around? Probably looking for Diana Ross?
Maybe I’ll rush over to Tassie and take a dip in that water… you know the one where things don’t always come out as you expect… you never know I could return as Doctor Doo Little.
“Now get that mouldy cat off my couch!”