Trading under a flag of cake
If you repeat a phrase enough it becomes meaningless, and then tiresome.
'We take [blah] very seriously' for instance.
Today I had to follow a pie-van (which I guess warrants either jabbering about the Pi-man which isn't going to happen because I only had a Spectrum for a fortnight and it was shit, or about following a muffin-man down Drury lane, but that's all a bit 'Round the Horne' and anyway it was the A431) which meant I was able to read the alleged humorous messages on the back of the thing as it trundled past Bitton railway.
One of them contained the phrase 'deep fill' and even having to type that as an example fills me with a remarkable antipathy for the entire edifice of marketing.
I would go back in time to persuade Edward Bernays that he should seek an alternative career, but then Adam Curtis would have never made 'The century of the self' and I'd rather have that and something to chunter about, pointlessly angry freak that I seem to be.
Anyway. 'Deep fill' doesn't mean anything. Or rather, it means 'Look! We are no longer taking the piss!'
Years ago, when food made from chemicals was a rare treat, I was occasionally allowed to watch commercial television. (Since the parents only took the Radio Times, ITV was an unknowable wasteland. My grandfather would sometimes buy the local paper on a Saturday and then use that as a telly-guide for the next six months. Which was confusing on several levels because due to geography his set-top aerial would pick up HTV West rather than ATV. Thus one would be treated to black and white pictures of Judas Priest followed by the local news for somewhere else in Welsh.)
One of the adverts that was especially interesting for the junior JHR was the one showing a Kipling Machine hawking up lumps of Apple Byproduct and gobbing them into empty individual pie-casings where they hid in the bottom corner like agoraphobic slime. For a child brought up on home-cooked everything, these were pictures from another planet and likely proof of space travel.
Were I in a more charitable mood, I would believe that the robot-brain behind the notion of 'deep fill' was somehow trying to make up for the childhood disappointment caused by the essential hatefulness of Kipling Machinery, but since the entire edifice has been run by complete bastards more interested in what they can get away with rather than providing any sort of value or service, it's just another reason to dismantle the system that we are forced to call capitalism.
'We take [blah] very seriously' for instance.
Today I had to follow a pie-van (which I guess warrants either jabbering about the Pi-man which isn't going to happen because I only had a Spectrum for a fortnight and it was shit, or about following a muffin-man down Drury lane, but that's all a bit 'Round the Horne' and anyway it was the A431) which meant I was able to read the alleged humorous messages on the back of the thing as it trundled past Bitton railway.
One of them contained the phrase 'deep fill' and even having to type that as an example fills me with a remarkable antipathy for the entire edifice of marketing.
I would go back in time to persuade Edward Bernays that he should seek an alternative career, but then Adam Curtis would have never made 'The century of the self' and I'd rather have that and something to chunter about, pointlessly angry freak that I seem to be.
Anyway. 'Deep fill' doesn't mean anything. Or rather, it means 'Look! We are no longer taking the piss!'
Years ago, when food made from chemicals was a rare treat, I was occasionally allowed to watch commercial television. (Since the parents only took the Radio Times, ITV was an unknowable wasteland. My grandfather would sometimes buy the local paper on a Saturday and then use that as a telly-guide for the next six months. Which was confusing on several levels because due to geography his set-top aerial would pick up HTV West rather than ATV. Thus one would be treated to black and white pictures of Judas Priest followed by the local news for somewhere else in Welsh.)
One of the adverts that was especially interesting for the junior JHR was the one showing a Kipling Machine hawking up lumps of Apple Byproduct and gobbing them into empty individual pie-casings where they hid in the bottom corner like agoraphobic slime. For a child brought up on home-cooked everything, these were pictures from another planet and likely proof of space travel.
Were I in a more charitable mood, I would believe that the robot-brain behind the notion of 'deep fill' was somehow trying to make up for the childhood disappointment caused by the essential hatefulness of Kipling Machinery, but since the entire edifice has been run by complete bastards more interested in what they can get away with rather than providing any sort of value or service, it's just another reason to dismantle the system that we are forced to call capitalism.