This evening, as I reclined in my reclining chair with my pipe, my copy of Boswell’s "Life of Samuel Johnson" and my snifter of port, I felt a disturbance. It was not the braying of my children, which I have developed the ability to ignore; no, it was the sense that I have not fully realized my economic potential.
You may scoff, friends, but the truth is that I have not yet filmed a commercial for a product only available in foreign markets. Despite my celebrity, no manufacturer of instant soup, malt beverages, or whatever the holy hell Woody Allen is hawking here has approached me to star in a short film designed to encourage sales.
I will admit that I do not have the worldwide recognition of Harrison Ford, Sylvester Stallone or Woody Allen, but I am better looking than Woody Allen, more eloquent than Sylvester Stallone and Harrison Ford is… never mind about Harrison Ford.
The point is that while I may not have the global reach of certain celebrities, I am every bit as unencumbered by ethics where it comes to commercials that will air only in languages that are not English.
I do have some standards; I will not advertise any product sold for human consumption which contains cadmium, mercury or Sylvester Stallone (I am negotiable on the last one). I will not appear in any commercial in which I am depicted as a mime, and I will only do tasteful nudity.
I have taken the liberty of writing a few advertisements for which I think I’d be well-suited:
Intro: camera pans from a mountain pass to a secluded alpine lake, focusing eventually on a small boat. Robert D. Peyton sits in the boat, alone, holding a glass of port. As the camera zooms into his face, he says, “THIS IS GOOD PORT”. /cut.
Intro: fade from black to a dining room at a white tablecloth restaurant. Robert D. Peyton and Harrison Ford sit at a table in the center of the dining room. A waiter approaches.
Waiter: “Gentlemen, may I take your order?”
H. Ford: “Hey, he called us ‘gentlemen!’”
R. Peyton: “THIS PORT IS SO GOOD, I COULD STAB A HOBO.”
H. Ford: “…”
Scene: a small fishing village in Portugal, where the sun sets over the brightly colored houses that surround the harbor. As the last rays of the sun glimmer over the highest hills surrounding the town on three sides, children laugh and kick a soccer ball through dusty streets.
Suddenly, a hologram of Orson Welles appears, frightening the children further. The hologram eats the soccer ball, and as the camera fades to black as if guided by the setting sun, Robert D. Peyton parachutes into frame, turns to the camera and winks. As the camera fades, viewers can just make out Peyton’s shirt, which says “PORT DOES NOT CAUSE RASHES IN MOST ADULTS.” /cut.
I would like to make it clear that I am not only interested in advertising port wine. There are a multitude of fortified wines I will market; for that matter, I will appear on camera in support of anything humans can consume in good conscience, or at least without facing criminal charges. You may contact me below with offers.
I hope you have enjoyed this online article, and that I may be of some assistance to your business. I await your call…