Indieoma

‘In one of the key scenes in Alfonso Cuarón’s 2006 film Children of Men, Clive Owen’s character, Theo, visits a friend at Battersea Power Station, which is now some combination of government building and private collection. Cultural treasures – Michelangelo’s David, Picasso’s Guernica, Pink Floyd’s inflatable pig – are preserved in a building that is itself a refurbished heritage artifact. This is our only glimpse into the lives of the elite, holed up against the effects of a catastr

Who can I rage at!? Who can I maul? Which cretin is to blame?! Who committed this travesty?! I speak, of course, of my own decision to leave my beer in the freezer for too long, this committing myself to a writing session of slurping on slush puppies. Ah biddy thee well… what are we talking about today again? Let’s read an email. “Ric… it has been a long time. We received the postcards from Mongolia – but we could not decipher them, merely the phrase ‘the bas

We are pleased to welcome Irish poet and writer Nuala Ní Chonchúir, who brings two published poems dealing ‘with the power of advertising in the beauty industry over women.’ Mannequin Envy It’s not the pert plum breasts or the bloodless complexion It’s not the gamine gait or the fuck-me-please eyes It’s the luxurious laziness of her shop-window leisure, the loitering with no intent. Pandemic Fun-size women bite each others backs, every flesh-inch tasted and tested against t

For new bands, getting involved with advertising in the early stages of their career can be the kiss of death. While “overnight” success might seem initially gratifying, the accompanying hype can mean (as many X factor finalists have discovered) that people just as quickly get sick of you. Once you are perceived to have “sold out” it can be very difficult to claw back any kind of credibility. The mid 1990s saw a string of new acts disappear just as quickly as they arrived after sound-tracki

“By the way, if anyone here is in advertising or marketing, kill yourself…Seriously though, if you are, do. No really, there’s no rationalisation for what you do, and you are Satan’s little helpers, OK? Kill yourselves, seriously. You’re the ruiner of all things good. You are fucked and you are fucking us, kill yourselves, it’s the only way to save your fucking soul. Kill yourself, kill yourself, kill yourself now. Now, back to the show.” _Bill Hicks Ah… that infa

The first peculiar ad I saw was at the bank. A teller was explaining to me why I shouldn’t continue using my debit card when I don’t have any money in my account, when my eyes drifted to a poster behind her. It was a picture of a handsome couple looking at an ultrasound of their unborn child. Lots of pretty blues and yellows and reds. They looked sincerely happy and it made me feel lonely. Above them was written, “There is a solution for every emotion,” in charming bubble letters. Though I