Get Your Hands On My Tackle

I recently wrote a commercial for a fishing store that left me feeling…dirty.

This in itself is not uncommon. I write commercials for a living – some days just setting foot in my office makes me feel dirty. Especially on days when I know someone is going to force me to write (or at least edit) a commercial that features two women having a (totally realistic!) conversation over a cup of coffee:

Gosh Janet, your floors are so clean!
Thanks, [giggle] I had them done professionally by Floor Cleaners R Us, Simone – they were easy, convenient, and cost effective!
Really? Easy, convenient, AND cost effective? Now I want to get my floors done! What was the name of that company again, Janet?
Floor Cleaners R Us, Simone!
And what’s the number?
Well I just so happen to remember my number because I recently had a lobotomy. I have forgotten my basic motor skills and bladder control, but I now have a lot more room in my head for the kind of information that no realistically portrayed person would ever retain! 1700 821 029!

You’ve heard them – you know I’m not exaggerating. But this has nothing to do with my dirty feeling after this particular commercial.

This commercial was for a fishing store. The fishing store was having a sale, and I was given the catalogue so I could put some of the specials into the commercial.

This catalogue is pure, unadulterated filth. Okay, it isn’t really, but it sounds like it might be. I know my way around Fyshwick, ACT – I know what sex store products feel look and sound like. And these things sound like sex toys:

Storm Soft Plastics
Ugly Stik Rods
Squid Sniper Jigs
Quick Set Rod Holders
Surecatch Black Nights
Rapala Tube Scales
Titan Braids
Spin T-Curves

Each and every one of things sounds like something I could probably install, insert, or ingest.

Have I stumbled across a conspiracy? Is there an underground chain of gruesome sex stores masquerading as innocent angling supply houses?

It would certainly explain the double entendre behind the name Tackle World.  It’s only a short step from that to International House of Penis.