A beautiful young woman is riding a beautiful white horse
through the surf on a beautiful summer’s day. (In slow motion.) Her beautiful
dark hair floats with every rise and fall of the horse’s gait, while her dress of
seemingly white samite billows beautifully in the breeze. She is beauty personified, the very image
of the Romantic female replete with remote sexual potential. In short, the
maiden archetype brought to scintillating, shimmering life. She lifts her arm
(in slow motion) and catches…
…a toilet roll, several leaves of which stream out in the
wind like the banner on St George’s
lance. A toilet roll…
You know, for all the disdain in which I hold the denizens
of the high commercial world, even I didn’t realise that they could be quite as
crass as that. Maybe some advertising executive somewhere isn’t quite as
humourless as one imagines advertising executives to be.
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