So there he is, sporting a poor moustache and overalls, the man in the sodding Honda adverts. First he’s cutting the grass or drilling a hole in cheese or something less meaningful. Then he appears on a push-bike which morphs into a moped followed by a motor-cycle. And so it continues until he appears, still clad in overalls and sporting the moustache normally associated with a mature walrus, in a speed-boat. Or something like. And all to the strains of “To dream the impossible dream, to fly the impossible thingie, to go where the brave dare not go”. Indeed. And then, just as Mr Overall’s moustache attempts to depart his top lip, as he rides a C70 into the near distance we get the strap line: The Power of Dreams. Yes, thank you Honda.
“What the blind buggery are you on about this time”, says a small voice at the back of the room. And well it might because, for whatever reason, some people have dreams that do not involve Honda or any other Corporation wishing to make themselves the focus of our attention. Do we really need a high powered motorcycle or a TV the size of a small African republic or the smell of a footballer’s missus to help us achieve our dreams. Frankly, no. A barrel with which to cross oceans, a ready supply of pink wafer biscuits to utilise as a building product, a decent hospital equipped with stomach pumps, heart monitors and other things that keep us ticking over, that’s the stuff of our dreams.
And why not? What is so wrong with such lunacy, why should the Bransons of this world be the only ones to be celebrated for such things? “Ooooh, there’s that Dickie Branson going to moon again”, the Daily Express or any number of other mainstream purveyors of news will holler. “Isn’t he a card?” No, he’s a publicity seeking hippy with dreams of world domination, that’s what Dickie’s about.
But if you can take a moment away from Honda, moustaches, Dickie “Bloody” Branson or all the other celebrity types smelling of rabbit hutches or engine oil or vinegar, then spare a thought for all those others with dreams of barrels and wafer biscuits and decent hospitals. They’re equally justifiable. Honest.