Let me get this straight. I believe in the power of Gray skull and I believe in the power of Axe. But where do these guys get the idea that spraying themselves silly with enough deodorant to fumigate up to 10 sq.ft. of farmland will make them He-man (Or He-men? Or should it them-men? Oh, whatever) Yeah where do they get that silly idea? Oh, I forgot. They got that from the ads. Silly me! And I’m supposed to be in advertising. (For shame, Dannie, for shame!) But I wish these ads came with a teeny-tiny writing below “Stunts tried out by experts. Please don’t try this at home. Or at least before going to office.” Why do I wish this wish? Because of Axe abuse. Because I hate getting stuck in the lift, first thing before office with two (or, heaven forbid, more) morons dunked and drenched in f*****g Axe. It’s an ambush of the bloodiest kind minus the blood. It’s a veritable assault. It’s like being bludgeoned by an invisible, Axe-smelling bludgeon (duh!) right on the back of the head. So far the back of my head has proved to be the Axe-smelling bludgeon’s equivalent of a Viking helmet. I’ve not passed out till date. But it’s left me reeling and feeling rather lightheaded. It’s more like being stuffed headfirst in a sack (that’s not even very big, to begin with) and far, far from frenetic, rabid desire. Unless the desire to puke my guts out counts, of course. Now if you axe me. I beg your pardon.
Now if you ASK me, I have no idea why men like smelling like each other. Like cattle. How much variety do you think they could have? Why bring democracy under the armpits, in a very nonmetaphoric sense? Go on, experiment. It’s very, very confusing when you smell like each other. It’s worse when the whole world, right from the chaiwallah to the bus conductor and the creepy neighbour and the hunk in the ad smells the same. There you are minding your own business and then this invisible grenade blows your olfactory senses to bits. From there on, it’s a minefield, with Axe bombs going off at every corner. The Axe effect or should I say, the Axe trauma, begins right from high school, when boys stop running away from girls and start running towards them. At this tender age, they slowly turn from nice boys into mutant air-fresheners. Now how many of you girls get turned on by Odonil, hmmmm?
Today I saw an ad with a lot of boys sporting what can be best described as very-badly-made crows’ nests on their head. Looked like they slept on their hair all funny or like their hair was making rude faces and gestures. It turns out to be (surprise, surprise) an ad for gel or hair spray or something. Why would anyone want to consciously invest in bad hair days? Why? Why? Why? Maybe if I found the answers to these questions I just might find the secrets to conjugal bliss the wives in the detergent ads seem to know. And have college girls gasp at my youth and vitality as my neighbour’s kid (whom I have bribed, of course) comes running to me with arms wide open calling me “Mummmmmmmmmy.”