I MUST say how pleased I was to discover that we are to put lurid pictures of craven illnesses and revolting diseases onto cigarette packets. It is an excellent tactic and I only hope it will be more widely used.
I think it might be especially useful as regards the motor car. Instead of allowing the options of Sierra Beige or Nogaro Silver, we could limit exterior colouring to vivid images of broken bodies lying along motorway slip-roads, sick children choking on carbon monoxide fumes and knife-wielding road-ragers emerging incandescent from their tin cans.
Tackling the banking industry would not go amiss, either. It would be helpful to see all banking outlets festooned with photographs of destitutes begging for food bearing hand-written messages on ripped cardboard to the effect: “Beware! I left my money with investment specialists. They lent it to people who had no chance of paying it back. Now I’m broke. They’ll do the same to you.”
It would also be helpful to have posters warning that banking establishments are likely to be nationalised – either by the left or the right.
Certain individuals should certainly be made the subject of official warnings. For example, I am sure there are tailors ready and willing to inscribe the suits of a certain politician with images of two-faced beasts, cartoon drawings of forked tongues or messages along the lines of: “Caution! This man will stab you in the back quicker than you can say, ‘Pass the guacamole’. Do not believe a word he says – he doesn’t.” It would be “mandy-terry” to wear it at all times.
The sisters advise that it would be reasonable for all men to be tattooed with the warning “potential rapist”. While agreeing in principle, I have suggested a compromise whereby all males are instead forced to sport sandwich boards containing graphic images of beaten and degraded women. Not only would the effect be immediate, the unwieldy boards would also practically deter all but the most enthusiastic and elastic of potential abusers.
Certainly, pound coins merit cautionary depictions. These seemingly innocuous slices of rounded metal can have devastating effects, notably upon the Conservative Party. It is only reasonable to give users fair warning. Carrying these objects renders a person liable to two specific hazards. Half the Tory Party will rush over to mob the coin, weeping copiously at this symbol of England’s independence and superiority. Here, they declaim, is the nation’s economic salvation. While we have the pound, we control our own destiny. These coins mean we can direct and protect our own economy. (Recent events have only gone to prove how right these people are.)
The remaining Tories are likely to wax nasty at the sight of our majestic coinage, as it reminds them of the presence of a member of the family Elephantidae in their drawing rooms. A pound coin is a reminder that for every new Tory, there is a gross of backwoodsmen; for every European in the party there is a tribe of Little Englanders; and that if Europe ever gets onto the agenda, any hope of portraying Lord Snooty as the leader of a united party is blasted to smithereens.
I suggest that large photographs of selected alumni be placed outside public schools as a caution to potential customers. Perhaps the single image of ex-public-schoolboy Charlie Whelan would do the job. No caption would be necessary. And public toilets could all be decorated with the covers of George Michael albums.
A further candidate for graphic warnings would be all forms of advertising. I would have to leave the actual images to the professionals, but the message is clear. If you pay any attention to advertising, your life may well be ruined. It will make you feel inadequate. It will make you crave things you can’t have (or indeed you don’t want) – such as a new car, a Reiss coat or a holiday in New Zealand. Advertising destroys egos and makes people obsessively materialistic. Perhaps we could just cover it all up.
Which reminds me that I still haven’t got onto the most obvious candidate for the “tobacco treatment”. Surely there is a case for images on bottles of Bollinger and Pimms demonstrating people vomiting in shop doorways, squaring up to fellow-staggerers and gently wetting themselves as they doze on trains? I like to think of a waiter at Whites Gentlemen’s Club holding for examination a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape bearing a urine-stained label adorned by a snap of a gent with his head down the toilet.
I know some people will argue that these particular beverages could be excluded and that the initiative should only be applied to the likes of Tennents Extra Strength lager. But, for the benefit of those who appreciate a well-researched column, I once had a mate who lived just over the wall from an off-licence and I can reliably report that you can get just as sick on champagne as you can on scrumpy.
And butter. No one should be allowed to purchase a packet that does not carry a representation of Charles Clarke. Coca Cola should come with images of rotting gums. Aeroplanes should welcome you aboard with September 11 footage. That’d get the nerves on edge, wouldn’t it? Ciggie, anyone?
