A spectacular optical ad campaign:

Of ‘specsperts’ and specs maniacs!

Gaston de Rosayro

This is not a hackneyed joke about an Englishman an Irishman and Scotsman. It is a true tale about an Irishman, a Singaporean and a Sri Lankan. The Irishman, Jimmy Gaw, was the best media marketing and advertising whiz it had been my good fortune to work with.

The Singaporean Chinese, Johnny Lee, was an exceptional writer and promotions mastermind who knew the Lion City like the palm of his own paw. The Sri Lankan was a senior editor whose eminence and proficiency I will not reveal for reasons of absolute modesty.

Perceptive readers would have guessed by my unassuming reticence that the last mentioned protagonist happened to be your columnist.

As a formidable combination in an arena that remained a battleground of blood and thunder we were in a class by ourselves. In the context of high-pressure salesmanship, psychological promotions and superlative writing skills we were unmatchable. No one in the fraternity could match our eminence and we beat the pants off the opposition down to their very ankles.

We worked for a newspaper we started from scratch and conjured up some innovative ideas that began raking in the shekels on an unprecedented scale. So it came as no surprise when a board of bored billionaires disillusioned by their advertising and branding agency ditched them and entreated us to carry out their advertising campaign for their top of the line optical chain.

The only problem was the firm’s painful brand manager named Jackie Chew who tried to reject every proposal we conjured up. But he was always over-ruled. And our Jimmy, the feisty Irishman , had attempted to throttle him on various occasions.

Fortunately for us the board comprised a set of highly literate entrepreneurs who possessed a sense of outlandish humour that matched our own. They were all fascinated by the written word and were great punsters. Our assignment was to create an ad campaign sprinkled with a dash of mirth to excite amusement and grab consumer attention.

They were demanding clients and were willing to pay top dollar for a humorous medium that would convey an amusingly ticklish and catchy message that had to be brought to life with clever art direction and visuals. We settled the deal on condition that our newspaper would be granted the exclusive rights to a lucrative advertising contract. And as we would be moonlighting in this particular case our fee would be paid without a written contract and only sealed with an honourable handshake. The gum-chewing chairman of the Board Henry Hu Yu Hai Ding (his real name) stretched out his hand and quipped: “Agreed. Excuse the gun-chewing, it’s a habit I acquired at chew-niversity.” He assured us that the unwritten contract would be duly honoured by concluding with: “U-PUN my word, gentlemen!.” They loved the title we thought up as the chain’s brand name: ‘Specspert.’

And the legend that went with it read: ‘Wearing our specs makes you a Specspert!’ There were lots of others that were met with astonished roars of good-natured approval. A great deal of brain storming took place before we agreed on a theme that would appeal to the elite fashionistas, the high society fat cats who fancied themselves as celebrities. ‘Join the Glitterati club and transform yourself into a Specerati!’ We had to diplomatically reject some of the lines thought up Jimmy the Irishman. “As you will see we have a Spectacular line of spectacles. No Speculation here we are quite Specific. Choose from the wide Spec-trum of our designs. Try them on and at first glance you will see clearly the spectre of a whole new spectacle in a different light.” Some fool once made the mistake of telling Jimmy Gaw that the Irish accent was the sexiest in the world! The woman who had listened to him must have got a bit revved up by his fancy brogue drawl. He had really taken it to heart and while we were making our presentation he looked at the pretty Board secretary taking down minutes and paid her a compliment: “Whart a lurvely worman ya arre!” She gave him a tired look and countered: “I think you might have lost your specspertise, sir.

You might as well change your glasses because I think that you may well have had an optical illusion.” And so during those frenzied weeks we were transformed into a delighted gang of Specs Maniacs. All we were attempting to achieve was projecting the Specs Appeal of the optimacy of the exclusive eyewear. There were other innovative ads such as, ‘Get to the Focul Point’ and ‘Rimless Specs at Painless Prices.’

At the end of our assignment we had collected our cash and the newspaper contract and left the client’s office. Johnny Lee and I walked to the car park but there was no sign of Jimmy. We found him walking briskly towards us with a triumphant glint in his eye. “What’s up Irish? we asked?”

Just then brand manager Jackie Chew emerged from the building doubled up in pain. “I just settled with that little pain Jackie,” he said nonchalantly. “I kicked him,” he said. “You what?” we asked incredulously. “I kicked him in his in his well, spectacles!”