Daydream believer

I have come to the conclusion that I am an advertiser’s dream.

Now, before you get all hot and bothered about how much of a megalomaniac that makes me sound, hear me out:

I am gullible.

I’ll believe anything an advert tells me. Why would it lie or bend the truth? As a healthcare copywriter, there are strict rules I must abide by when writing about products. So my brain mistakenly assumes the same is true for all copy, pharmaceutical or not.

Latest diet craze? I’m there like swimwear.

Shorts that help you spot reduce fat? I’ll have 2 pairs please. (seriously Suzanne? You fell for that one?)

An elixir that promises eternal youth? Oh go on then.

Even when there’s isn’t an overt promise, I find myself imaging exactly how my life will be transformed by this product.

“Feeling good starts from within”…oh, I must eat more yogurt…by tomorrow I’ll be bouncing out of bed full of joie de vivre, go for a quick 5 mile run before returning home to my cherubic family, their rosy cheeks and eager smiles greeting me as they sit peacefully eating porridge at the breakfast table (reality: none of my children eat porridge peacefully and they are only cherubic when they sleep).

“Flying in the face of ordinary”…oh, that’s what we need. A holiday. Using that airline to get us to our destination. I’ll wear a classic and understated outfit that exudes glamour, in a classic and understated way of course. We’ll probably be upgraded to first class. We’ll arrive at our exotic destination rested and looking fabulous, ready to embrace adventure and discovery. What fun! (reality: we tend to be that family on the aeroplane. You know, the one with at least one screaming child, looking like nervous wrecks and smelling of vomit and hand sanitiser).

But isn’t that the fabulous thing about advertising? Those swift, little daydreams a good ad can inspire. Good advertising doesn’t just sell the sausage, it sells the sizzle. It sells you a dream, which, if you’re like me, you buy into lock, stock and barrel.

I know I’m gullible. But maybe, just maybe, a copywriter needs a dose of gullibility to believe in the products they wax lyrical about? That’s my excuse anyway.

Now, who needs some sausages? I’ve got a fridge full of amazing sausages, organic of course. From a pig called Betsy. She lived a lovely life, snuffling out windfall apples in a pretty little orchard, with a cosy little barn to protect her from the elements and happy hens to keep her company. But when you put those sausages in a frying pan…