Entrepreneur Oli with a scale model of his yacht, Magnificent Me
Have you seen the advert for EliteSingles.com? If you haven’t, believe me: you’re missing out.
The first time it aired, I had to immediately pause the TV, rewind and watch it twice more. And it only lasts five seconds. That’s televisual magic right there.
I’m clearly not the only one to think it’s something special. Someone’s uploaded a recording taken from their telly to YouTube. It has all the echoing and bad picture you’d expect, but it’s still worth a look: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NgWIcG69QC8
I was saddened yesterday to see that whoever is in charge of this exceptional piece of advertising has updated it. The blue-suited Romeo with the Tony Blair-esque hand movements announcing that “To find someone at my intellectual level, Elite Singles was the obvious choice,” previously went unnamed. Now, a caption informs us that he is Oliver, an entrepreneur.
Oliver! Of “Please Sir, may I have some more?” fame? This cannot be right!
And “entrepreneur” is so dissatisfyingly non-specific: it could mean anyone from Alan Sugar to Del Boy. Let’s face it, neither of those are characters you’d want to dig out your lucky pants for.
I was hoping for Alexander the astronaut! Or what about Harry the heart surgeon? Or Salvadore, the sculptor? Or, just to prove that alliteration isn’t a requirement, Yves the international playboy millionaire philanthropist! Surely these would better illustrate the “exceptional” fish swimming in the rarefied gene pool that is Elite Singles?
But I quibble. Name and “occupation” aside, Oli the entrepreneur deserves to become an advertising sensation.
In his book, “Tipping Point”, Malcolm Gladwell talks about the mysterious quality of “stickiness” that makes a product or idea catch on. His example, I seem to recall, was those silly rubber wristbands everyone was wearing a few years ago. One day, they were unusual, the next they were ubiquitous. No-one really knew why.
It deserves to be that way with Oli. Surely he has what it takes to be sticky? That suit! Those robot arms! The paddle-like hands! And, of course, that exceptional intellect, conveyed in every smoothly rounded vowel!
I’m planning to divorce my husband immediately. Maybe, after extensive (but still subtle) plastic surgery, elocution lessons, and a postgrad degree in particle physics, I too can be an Elite Single.
Spread the word. And aspire.
Mrs Holder's Legacy 