Cooperative Funeralcare

Co-operative Funeralcare branch in Shildon, launches a Knickers 4 Africa appeal, Mayor Gareth Howe is shown displaying a pair to the camera(i)

Nothing to do on a cold bleak Saturday afternoon in January? Why not plan your own funeral.

This is the heart warming message from The Cooperative, makers of the world's naffest adverts. In the ad for Cooperative Funeralcare we see a wide variety of "normal people" (most probably really bad actors) pontificating on how they want to depart this vale of tears. "My song's got to be, I did it my way" "I'm going out in style" and other twaddle. The prospect of death is something to be laughed at, ""I'll keep my mates waiting"They'll have to be a good spread ho ho ho". No one of them in this dark winter month seems bothered. Have they used reason to combat their fear of mortality, have they reached out to eastern mysticism (or even unfashionable Christianity) Nope, they have left it all up to the sanctimonious old Co-op and that's it. As with most Cooperative adverts we are treated to the supercilious nasal drawl of a Scot - "Mr Gooood with Foooood" who basically tells you to get on with it. Get down the Co-op and select your casket like the happy-go-lucky "people like you" who just appeared in the ad, it's normal. Of course it is not normal to contemplate death, nor to have a self satisfied grin after having paid The Coop to give you "a right good send off" "Mr Gooood with Foooood" appears throughout the year giving instructions on how to live your life better by buying Cooperative products. The Pasta dinner ad sees the guests arriving on a scooter for example, then waving their arms about like a typical Italian. The Cooperative Funeralcare uses the same simplistic approach to sales, death and garlic bread are just commodities.

In The Midst of Life, We are in Bed.

Worst is still to come, without Mr Gooood with Foooood this time. The Coop have recently launched another toe curling ad about a husband addressing his wife via the TV, and proposing that they copulate on Saturday mornings. The rationale behind this public invitation to bonk is that they can get their shopping at The Coop and avoid the queues..hmmm...because nobody with any sense shops there? No! They are local, like Tubbs and Edward in The League of Gentlemen. The husband seems to have a glass eye, and has a self satisfied grin as he strolls into the Co-op to pick up "what he needs" The horror continues when the man's wife (a Geordie) replies in the next ad in the series! She uses visual metaphors to accept his proposal and looks forward to being given a good seeing to on Saturday morn. One wonders what is next?

Need a holiday, get down the Co-op

Another January horror from the Cooperative stable sees them flogging package holidays:

1. Find a salivating Uncle Fester from the hoards of out of work actors.
2. Get him to deliver an oration about what he wants from his holiday, "sandy beaches" "star lit skies" "plunge my naked body" yuk!
3. Get the helpful Coop girl to get her computer to say...yes
4. Explain the rationale, he wants to enjoy his holiday, not spend months planning it!

Absurd, and like the Mr&Mrs Saturday morning nookey, not to be watched when eating your Coop chicken supper (raised to the Coop's own Elmwood stanadrd(ii). The guy in the advert looks as though he is in need of a good wash. As with the glass-eyed husband there is something of the Dickensian grotesque about the intrepid traveller and his leering soliloquy.

The message with all The Cooperative adverts is that they know best, they don't. If you are aspiring to a Tuscan lifestyle, getting yourself planted in style, or planning a week in Rhodes you should shop around. If their adverts are anything to go by then The Co-op are what they have always been, holier than thou and crap.

(i) http://www.thenorthernecho.co.uk/news/local/bishopauckland/8357107.Funeral_firm_makes_appeal_for_undies/

(ii) "What is the difference between Elmwood and Free Range?"

Free Range birds are free to roam outside during the day. Elmwood Chickens and Turkeys are reared in highly ventilated and sunlit barns, bringing the outside to them. Source Cooperative website. They "lead a more relaxed longer life" in that barn the blurb also says.

Celebrity Five Go To Turkey

Celebrity Five Go To Turkey was a funny little affair, and really rather fun. The show is obviously a spin off from Celebrity Coach Trip, but with added advantage: the overbearing presence of Brendan is thankfully gone, and you do discover something of the attractions of the locale.

Derek Conway was the only celeb that did not degenerate into the syrup - basically a psycho-drama created by the hysterical emotional Bagpuss that is Russell Grant. Well done Derek! A swim around a pool with a couple of trained dolphins was life changing, a mud bath was "the best day of my life" and all that. There was some awful woman covered in tatoo ink that helped Grant create a house of schmaltz, but I have no idea who she was (or is). Jan Leeming became tired and emotional and Derek Conway had a "physic massage" administered by Russell. Grant also "read the cups" for that chap from Blue. One wonders if these demonstrations of Grant's services were written into the contract?

Sadly, dear old Russell did not win and lost 7-0 when judged by the Turkish. One reason might be that he expressed boredom with the historic sites, was "fresh" with numerous male Turks during filming, ate with his mouth open, left his undergarments scattered all over the floor, and insulted the local staff - calling the chef "the meerkat" and the maid "mama mia" Foreigners eh? The final insult to the Turkish nation was when RG speculates about whether the prize will be a villa in Turkey.....he says he will "put it on the market" and use the money to see West End shows in London. The spirit (and bulk) of Bernard Manning lives.

Do say "oooh anyone got any Daddy's Sauce for me kebab, dear"

Don't say "let's go visit the museum"

Pete Postlethwaite - RIP

What a dreadful way to start 2011, the announcement of the death of the great Pete Postlethwaite. In a cultural landscape dominated by mediocrity and stupidity, we can ill afford to loose men of this calibre. Mr Postlethwaite was one of those rare breed of actors who could be used as a referee for any film or production - quite simply if he was there it was worth watching.

We should be grateful that he left behind a impressive body of work, but one cannot help thinking that he had so much more to give. Very, very, sad. RIP Mr Postlethwaite and thank you for the work you leave behind.