While my body is clearly back in the UK, portions of my brain are still scattered in various time zones between here and New Zealand. It's been weird coming back to London after more than 6 weeks, straight from nearly-the-longest-day to nearly-the-shortest.

Somewhere in this confusion, I found myself astonished by UK cold treatment advertising. (Strange things grab my attention in my current state).

In New Zealand, my Brit friends and I would chuckle at the gaucheness of the lcoal TV advertising. But at least most of it was straightforward, even if it lacked the so-called creative flair that allegedly makes British ads superior.

But I wonder what a price we pay for this kind of sophistication? Yes, that's sophistication, from the same lexicographers that gave you sophistry.

Exhibit A: TV ad for Lemsip Max Strength (Clip at DavidReviews). Synopsis: Woman at office worries that male colleage is too ill with the flu to complete some profoundly important project. Male reveals that his use of Lemsip has transformed him from red-nosed death's-door loiterer into suave executive. He even has time to invite said female colleaugue on a date. She is unable to resist a man who can bounce back so readily from illness. Obviously, this medicine does wonders for the production of pheromones as well as curing the flu.

Exhibit B: Beechams All-in-one. Synopsis: Charicature native tribesman tries a variety of unlikely cold-cures, like putting mustard on his chest. Surprise, surprise, they don't work. Reasurring male voiceover offers us Beechams All-in-one, which gives the flu "the all-in-one". The neat thing about that phrase is that it can imply fantastic results but actually not really mean anything.

Both these ads seem to imply through tone and execution that these products are a virtually a cure for colds/flu, which of course they are not.

Now I see that online, Beechams are more circumspect. For example, with beechamsfightback, and the "Cold and Flu Council" sponsored by them. Take a look at the Six Ways to Fight Back. Nary a mention of the product which, on TV, appears to be some kind of miracle cure.

I suppose we could appreciate the integrity of this advice. But the contrast between the multimillion pound ads and this relatively cheap website is telling.

Meanwhile, over at Lemsip the Expert Advice includes (my italics)

Well as you'd expect, we can't give you an instant cure, but there are some suggestions we can make that might help you get better sooner.

Get plenty of rest — conserve your energy for fighting off your illness
Eat lots of vitamin C — fruit and vegetables will help to boost your immune system
Drink plenty of fluids — it is important to keep yourself hydrated. A Lemsip hot drink can help you
Caffeine can help — Lemsip capsules contain caffeine to stop you feeling tired
Use tissues, not a handkerchief — you'll help spread fewer germs
Put your hand over your mouth when you cough or sneeze.

Of course, they only run these ads because at some level they work. People are willing to believe in, or at least associate with, the fantasies. I don't want to lay all the blame at the door of the pharmaceutical companies. But I'd like to see how they justify their allocation of marketing resources, other than the need to make a buck.

I sincerely hope that this kind of incongruity between glib ads and matter-of-fact reality is treated with greater scepticism in future. To put it mildly.

I also wonder if there's an opportunity here for a brand that tries the innovative strategy of levelling with us, not just on the website but in the ads? Or maybe such a brand isn't wasting its time with advertising in the first place?

Maybe Marc and Tom could come up with some creative that tells the truth and makes that sexy?

Bonus Link: Justin Quirk reviews another Lemsip ad for the Guardian:

I hate Steve and Lemsip propagating the idea that whenever you're (genuinely) sick you're at risk of losing your job. Enough people are stressed and insecure at work, without Nazi-boss behaviour being further normalised.