Walk Down Memory Lane, pt. 2

Caption at bottom of ad: Exotic Fruits Crushed In Sparkling Spring Water. It's 5,740 Miles Away From Any Other Drink

I don't remember which mag I got this ad from, but at the time I was staying in Bognor Regis, a seaside town along the south coast of England ... When I looked at the ad, I thought "This is just typical of British humour", something which I do truly miss about the UK, apart from the TV ads which is full of such humour ....

I wrote a long piece about the ad, and about how I felt of Bognor in a scrap book .... This was written, ohh, about nine years ago, so you have to excuse the obvious I-Know-How-To-Do-Discourse-Analysis-On-Print-Media bullshit and the God-I'm-Good-At-This-Aren't-I? ostentatious writing tone ....

What I really want to publish is my comment on Bognor since I've written an entry on Osaka, another place I have had the honour and the pleasure of living .... This is just to remind me that although Life has not always been kind to me, I have often overlooked the fact that I have been luckier than most people because I've had the opportunity to go places and experience a lot of things to make my life a lot more richer than it is ....

So it's kind of unfair for me to say that Life is unfair, I have to say that most of the time it was I who made it tough on myself ..... So, here it is, my piece on Bognor Regis .....

You look at that ad and what do you think you're
supposed to think? Subliminal, isn't it? Effective message, I think. You're made to think that Bognor is Rio and like Rio, it is divinely exotic.

Having lived in that selfsame town for ten long
months, I wish whoever that was responsible for the idea behind that ad must have come from another planet, because if he's a native Brit and has been to that dreadful place, then he couldn't possibly have the strait-jacket sanity to
come up with such a ludicrous excuse for a tactical ploy to con any innocent bugger to buy that product, which I'm sure must taste "divinely exotic".

Nevertheless, I'd like to think that this person has
a wicked sense of dry and sharp humour. Having noticed how staid and dead Bognor is, he exaggerates the very opposite of it, which I think is meaningfully implied in the second line of the caption. By being far from everything, the
drink is rare, and thus exotic as it claims. But I'd like to think he meant that Bognor Regis itself is far, and when I mean "far", I mean really far, full of old people (hence the granny and her dog) and a constant shade of greyness.

Which made me come to the conclusion - if I had the
foresight to see it coming, I would have taken a degree in advertising, knowing the subtle influence it has in its power. My God, can't you just begin to comprehend the magnitude of such power? ... Hmm, I'm beginning to sound like a power-crazed tyrant bent on conquering the world, and if I could get away with it I might just believe I am.

Back to what I was trying to point out, how I could
have just revelled in glee, yes, absolute glee at the thought of devising a careful double-meaning advert like that. Not because I take particular pleasure in seeing someone stupid enough to buy a product I campaign for (I like to think that all of us has a choice as a consumer) but because the thought that some consumers out there can read between the visual symbols and the encrypted
caption on my "ad" (my masterpiece, really) fills my heart with satisfaction, complete contentment. To know that by the end of the day, I've achieved what I aimed for - the art of subtle, and if I might add, subliminal
persuasion.

What am I babbling about here? I was supposed to be
talking about hell-hole Bognor Regis, not the bloody advert. Well, I've described Bognor briefly, but I'm sure you can just imagine the disgust I've felt for that place. The only spot I've ever cherished going to in Bognor would
be the train station, knowing that whatever train I would take could bring me out of the wretched desolateness that I almost always felt in Bognor.

Mind you, not all of Bognor is awful. It is peaceful
and as a small seaside town, it does have its own little quirks - old people walking about in town with their dogs, mothers pushing prams. A lot of contrasting features really. Apart from the chilling gust of wind from the sea
during winter, one of many distinct aspects of the British weather that I abhor, Bognor Regis is perhaps just like any other ordinary English seaside town, except of course it's smaller than Worthing and Brighton.

I guess part of the desolateness that I felt every
time I walked in Bognor came from the fact that I was born and bred in a busy city. Man, the capital city of my country, for goodness sake. I'm quite used to bright lights and sham glamour that something as original as Bognor seemed to me to be profoundly unsophisticated. Maybe I was too caught up with my own wretched feelings of loneliness that until now as I write, it never occurred to me that the small seaside town is also suffering from loneliness.

I mean, I've seen life growing quietly amongst the
housing estates, along the esplanade towards the pier, even the almost out-of-place Butlins there. But that's it. Life growing quietly, no zest, no spark, no nothing. I almost felt sorry, but not quite.

I don't think I need to feel sorry for that sorry
town. Indeed, I don't think it needs any. Why should it? For all it's loneliness, its dull outlook on life, it has been stubborn and refused to die out just like that. Just like the ad to give more underlying meaning. Like Rio
but perhaps not as exotic, Bognor Regis has its own identity, despite eveything but the kitchen sink that any stranger that have lived in it might feel for it,
including myself ... Yep, boring ol' Bognor, proud to hold such a reputation.

Well, now looking back ..... naaah, I don't want to look back on my life in Bognor, and in the UK in general ..... Yep, there were a lot of good things I remember of living there, but that's where they should be - in remembrance ....