American-born writer Bill Bryson tells a story about moving back home after many years in the UK. He sees a neighbor strapping a tree to the top of his car, clearly taking the tree to the dump. “I see you’re camouflaging your car,” Bryson says. “No, I’m taking the tree to the city dump,” the neighbor says. This clearly illustrates the difference between the American and the British senses of humor, Bryson concludes.
Nowhere is this difference more clearly seen than in advertising. British advertising is a carefully crafted postmodernist two-way billet-doux between advertisers and an audience understood to be educated, sophisticated, capable of dealing with multiple layers of irony. While American adverts are like being shouted at by a speed freak who assumes you’re a hard-of-hearing retard.
Take last year’s Budweiser Super Bowl ad. Two teams of jersey-clad horses wait while a zebra ref watches a replay. A farmer turns to his buddy and says, “That referee’s a jackass.” That’s sorta funny. Because the referee’s not a jackass. It’s a zebra. And it’s funny because the punchline’s left unstated, crediting the viewer with enough intelligence to fill in the gaps. The writers of the ad know this. They’re very smart. They’ve absorbed the lessons of Cheers, Friends, Arrested Development, The Simpsons, The Office and Extras.
So why does the second farmer say, “No, he’s a zebra”?
Because the American advertisers are incapable of aiming above the reptile brainstem of the average NASCAR fan.
When I mention The Office, I most emphatically do not mean the U.S. remake. For months now folks have said it’s “the best thing on TV.” It’s not. It’s dumbed-down, second-rate shit. Instead of the brutal two-series story arc of the British original, the remake exists in a tedious sitcom limbo. Instead of the cringe-inducing social terror, the remake goes for comfortable chuckles. Then there’s the spoon-feeding. Steve Carell’s character is never allowed to make a casually racist comment without endless reaction shots from nonwhite characters. Just in case we don’t get it. Just in case we’re really stupid.
And when I say we, of course, I mean you. I’m British. Which means that despite the massive body of evidence to the contrary (the Beckhams) you think I’m way smarter, funnier and sexier than you. (A recent survey in Men’s Health placed Brits at the top of the in-the-sack race, Americans 12th. Boo yacka!) Which is why whenever U.S. advertisers do attempt a spot of sophistication, they invariably reach for a British accent (the Geico lizard, Tanqueray’s Tony Sinclair). But it’s a double-edged cliché. The Brits are convinced that Americans have no sense of humor.
Alas, I recently discovered the stereotype has some validity. A few weeks back I wrote a blog item about how U.S. sports were in crisis and in danger of being replaced by “the arts.” I then pointed out that the arts were also in crisis, with America’s top four artists—Lindsay Lohan, Nicole Ritchie, Paris Hilton and Britney Spears—all laid low by scandal. I concluded by postulating a conspiracy orchestrated by power-crazed foreign interlopers David (sports) and Victoria (arts) Beckham.
From the comments, not a single American reader understood this to be satire. Even when this was pointed out to them. Which leads one to wonder who actually watches The Daily Show. Or reads The Onion. Or writes The Simpsons.
To paraphrase that half-British/half-American racist alcoholic Winston Churchill: It’s a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside a double entendre.
Ooh, missus.