Santa, Coca-Cola, and the old ten-shilling note...

At the time of writing (and if you believe some folk), an overweight, overworked, overburdened guy in a bright red suit will apparently be getting ready to bring a large dollop of happiness to the world.

For as long as I can remember, boy and man, I’ve chosen to believe the romantic rumour…rather than the somewhat unromantic reality of Father Christmas.

The reality where shops get richer, parents get poorer, and children get either happier or disappointed.

I decided, when I was still in short trousers, to be one of life’s optimists, rather than one of its pessimists.

A Christmas stocking half full…rather than half empty.

Of course, for any kid worth his or her salt and glued to a tv, December didn’t feel like Christmas until the ad with the glowing Coca-Cola truck appeared.

Anything that went before that was more about mums and dads and sensible presents like socks and kitchen equipment.

Or Christmas dinner with the late Lynda Bellingham and the Oxo family.

Then came 1995 and the magical Snowman animated movie brought is a Christmas can of Irn Bru.

Then, in 2011 came “The Long Wait” an ad from John Lewis that changed everything.

Then Christmas telly ads became a trend.

Something to look forward to.

Then they became something that festive telly couldn’t do without.

They were de rigueur.

They cost millions to make and brought in billions in revenue.

When I was a lad (said in a Yorkshire accent), my Christmas stocking contents one year consisted of a couple of Tangerines, a bar of chocolate, a James Bond model car, a set of writing pens, and a crisp ten-shilling note.

I considered Santa a hero.

Then I grew up, had kids of my own, and considered him a bloody expensive hero.

But I never lost the wonder and excitement I felt as a kid.

I never lost the anticipation of his arrival.

Even though, by then, I knew it was the biggest marketing ploy in the history of marketing ploys.

Even though, by then, the advertising business was my business.

My blinkers were on, my wallet was out, and I didn’t give a damn.

This year we’ll even get some tangerines.

And some chocolates.

And maybe some small toys for our grandkids.

And I’ll buy myself a new writing pen.

And I’ll watch the new John Lewis ad on the telly.

Even though it was so hilariously spoofed by Iceland.

The thing is…

When it comes to the fat man in the red suit, I’ve always been a believer.

And I always will be.

I miss the old ten-shilling note, though…

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The above is an extract from my as yet unpublished (and mostly unwritten) book Ad Interruptus.

Like its sisters Ad Lib, and Ad Infinitum (NOW AVAILABLE), it's about creativity, advertising, life, and lots of stuff in between.

You'll find Ad Infinitum, Ad Lib, and Ad Hoc on Amazon, along with my other books, Love & Coffee and Heaven Help Us. In print and ebook. Waiting for you.

And the wonderful thing about all three Ad books is… it doesn’t matter where you finish any chapter or episode.

Because it will always be pretty damned close to where you started it…

Ad Infinitum: https://amzn.to/3pof7Uq

Ad Lib: https://amzn.to/2kd4LKf.

Ad Hoc: https://amzn.to/2Nx8GL8

Love & Coffee: https://amzn.to/28IWaHq

Heaven Help Us: https://amzn.to/2nkQ1Jk

Grab a coffee, grab a chair, and grab a sneaky peek.

Then grab a copy...(for Christmas).