It’s that testical-tingling time of the year when all the sweat, tears and hard work you’ve put in as you’ve slogged your way through another shitty year is casually slapped back in your designer glasses wearing face by the immortal words “There are no awards in this category”.
Yes, it’s Awards’ season.
Well, I’m going to be at a few. And like the rest of you, I’ll be slagging off the competition (don’t even pretend you don’t). And getting more depressed as the evening drags on towards its inevitable outcome as I sit in the residents bar, looking like a pissed-up tramp who's just pulled an old DJ out of a bin and hasn't let the fact it's too tight put him off wearing it.
So, this said, why the fuck do we bother? We're fucking martyrs. let's face it, as long as there are people out there waiting to rip off advertisers by playing on the fact that they have egos the size of whale wangers, they are always going to be around.
Well, I’m going to be at a few. And like the rest of you, I’ll be slagging off the competition (don’t even pretend you don’t). And getting more depressed as the evening drags on towards its inevitable outcome as I sit in the residents bar, looking like a pissed-up tramp who's just pulled an old DJ out of a bin and hasn't let the fact it's too tight put him off wearing it.
So, this said, why the fuck do we bother? We're fucking martyrs. let's face it, as long as there are people out there waiting to rip off advertisers by playing on the fact that they have egos the size of whale wangers, they are always going to be around.
But a few choice chants can liven up the night, get you into a fight and if you’re really lucky, ensure you never get a job in the one agency that is actually doing good enough work to win awards. Now if all this sounds like a really bad idea, just drink shit loads of beer on the night. Suddenly, it’s a fucking brilliant one.
Here are chants to remember which get the Dave Balls nod:
“It never ran.”
You know which ones they are. If you’ve really got Dave Balls, shout it as you pick up your own award. You cheating shit.
You know which ones they are. If you’ve really got Dave Balls, shout it as you pick up your own award. You cheating shit.
‘That’s not a real fucking client.”
Again, it don’t take rocket science. McCanns Manchester does not have a Shooting Range as a paying client or a local Decorator and if it does, then I don't want to use a fucking local decorator who can afford to use one of the largest ad agencies in the UK - how much does this bastard charge to do a room?
“Raise the bar.”
Appropriate for those pieces of work you’d be embarrassed to throw in your waste paper bin. Yet some trumpet blowing sperm-sack thinks he’s such a big-dick he’s entered it into the awards and, fuck me, gets something. Shout this one and if I hear it at an awards ceremony I'll send your table a bottle of something cheap.
“Twats”
Twating simple. Twating direct and says so twating much. Can be attached to any other chant for added emphasis.
“Eye Rape”
Dave Ball’s personal favourite.
Finally
In Dave Balls humble, yet always right opinion, the only awards worth entering are the Chip Shop Awards. They came as a result of everyone cheating and doing chip shop ads. So, pat yourself on the back for being so sodding clever. Also, D&AD tried to sue them for having awards in the shape of pencil shaped chips. Once again – a pat on the back for upsetting the Daddy of all advertising awards who should be applauding someone for being creative. Miserable bastards.
Finally, finally
Good luck in the award. Unless you're an eye raper.
Good luck in the award. Unless you're an eye raper.
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