Motormouth: Does McLaren’s Maximuscle deal open the door for Coca-Cola McLaren Mercedes in 2013?

In recent weeks, rumours have been flying round the internet of Vodafone quitting their sponsorship deal with McLaren Mercedes next year, due, in part, to the worsening economic climate in Europe. Of course, McLaren would need a new title sponsor to plug the gap, and a reported link has been forged with a rather unlikely brand: Coca-Cola. The drinks manufacturer, which is one of the most popular in the world, has recently been warming to the idea of F1 sponsorship, especially as competitors, such as Red Bull and Monster [which, coincidentally, Coca-Cola are looking to purchase], are already well represented in the sport. 

Early on, stumbling blocks for a Coca-Cola/McLaren deal came in the form of GlaxoSmithKline, who hold a highly important technical partnership with the Woking based outfit. GSK manufacture Lucozade, a brand of energy drink that comes in carbonated, non-carbonated, and isotonic forms, and originally chose for Lucozade logos to be placed on the Mclaren cars throughout the first few Grand Prix of the season. Of course, as Coca-Cola make a brand of isotonic sports drink called Powerade, it would not have made sense to enter into an agreement with a team that was committed to displaying the logos and brand of a competitor.

Recently, however, GlaxoSmithKline have opted to use McLaren as a platform to advertise Maximuscle, their brand of protein and bodybuilding products, and have decided that this arrangement is to continue until the end of the 2012 Formula One season. This move by GSK, could allow McLaren, in effect, to make all parties happy: they could make a deal with Coca-Cola in order to become Coca-Cola McLaren Mercedes in 2013, whilst ensuring that their technical partnership with GSK continues, and making sure that the logos of competing brands within the same markets do not appear on the car at the same time.

Of course, this is all speculation, but I’m sure that deal would create a bit of "fizz" that McLaren would be very grateful for.

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NUS Elections: Pointless.

It’s the evening of the first of March 2012, and the Student’s Union at Teesside University is at fever pitch. A group of students, with steely glints in their eyes, slogans pasted on every part of their anatomy, and enough leaflets in their hands to run a recycling plant at full capacity, keep look out like hungry vultures eyeballing some prey. From a distance, they seem pleasant and without any agenda. Walk through the gauntlet they’ve set up, however, and they squawk like a gaggle of geese faced with a floundering fish.

“Have you voted yet!? Have you voted!? You really should vote! Democracy is great, you know,” they honk and plead, thrusting their torsos and leaflets in your face, giving you an eyeful of countless, yet ultimately futile slogans. These little soundbites are apparently the work of campaign teams, consisting of countless amounts of creative people, but you’d swear that they were haphazardly knocked up by a drunken man in a shed.

Of course, if you hadn’t guessed, these are NUS elections. Given the fact that campaign slogans have been hurriedly scrawled on different pieces of apparel using jumbo marker pens, and that campaign leaflets have been designed using the ever-primitive Microsoft Paint, it’s no secret that the people at the helm of these operations are poor, struggling students. One candidate, who seems to have forgotten that he’s only running for Education Officer, wants to improve relations with foreign countries –so you might want to expect a delivery of Chinese pandas to Middlesbrough in the very near future. The fervour that surrounds these votes and elections, however, surpasses that which accompanies the elections that decide who governs the UK.

It’s a rather strange phenomenon. These are the same people who, for eleven months out of the year, suffer from chronic voter apathy. “I don’t do politics,” they chime, with a smile that contains an abundance of ignorance. Shove the acronym ‘NUS’ in front of the term ‘president’, and they suddenly turn into democracy divas; willing to do almost anything [including take their clothes off on stage] for your vote. It would be adorable and admirable if ‘real-life’ MPs and party leaders took campaigning with such an exuberant attitude.

Just imagine the general election in 2015. David Cameron would be standing outside your local polling booth, scantily clad, in only a thin, white tank-top, and blue skinny jeans. “Don’t Be Gory, Vote Tory!” his placard would say, as he looks longingly at you. Ed Miliband, however, would attempt to take the talented approach. Not only would he torrent an illegal copy of PhotoShop to design a higher quality campaign leaflet, but he would plan to ride a unicycle round the polling station, whilst heckling passers- by to vote. Nick Clegg, in a bid to regain some popularity, would hang out in the local bar, offering to buy everyone drinks, and slipping patrons campaign leaflets designed using word-art, saying “David and Ed are rats, vote Liberal Democrat”. This is a very simple, and beautiful image, right?

Wrong. It’s disgusting, desperate, and just a little pathetic. But it’s what goes on every year at these elections. Polls are closing tonight, thankfully. Being a forward thinker, though, I can already see the candidates doing the same thing next year. There will be the same gaggle of geese, same gauntlet to run, but with different faces, and slightly worse slogans.

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Lo Reid’s Hypnotist Show: Low indeed

 

Hypnotism has always been a rather strange phenomenon to me. Although I usually pride myself on not eating up all the junk that my nearest television set throws at me, I’ve been all over the issue of televised hypnotism like a tramp on chips. 

From childhood, I remember shows where hypnotists would conveniently forget to break a spell that they have cast onto unwitting members of the public, resulting in tragic, hectic, but ultimately incredibly humorous effects. Of course, I’ve since realised that hypnotism doesn’t revolve around magic or spells of any sort, and that it is merely the power of suggestion combined with incredible concentration. Be that as it may, hypnotists still receive relatively negative press, even when their doings are not being sensationalised to almost-Daily Mail-esque proportions.

Being a psychology student, I know that stereotypes aren’t healthy, so I jumped at the chance to see Lo Reid, one of Europe’s most famous and prolific hypnotists, in a show at Teesside University on the 23^rd of February. 

After a couple of speeches from a bunch of ex-servicemen who had somehow arrived in Middlesbrough with absolutely no money [and without the necessary camouflage and ammo to defend themselves from the chavs in the area], Lo Reid took to the stage; the room filling with expectation from past show-attendees, and bewilderment from skeptics such as myself.  Dressed from head to toe in black leather, a look that suggested she was also available to hire as a low-budget Debbie Harry replacement, Reid attempted a quick stand-up routine to warm up the crowd. By ‘attempted stand-up’, I of course mean that she delivered a tirade filled to the brim with F-bombs and downstairs body-parts, held together with a few genuinely funny punch-lines.

After successfully sourcing 20 volunteers who met her rather stringent criteria [of not being idiots, too drunk, or on medication], the hypnotism finally began. To my dismay, she did not carry a pocket-watch to hypnotise participants with, but insisted that that they had to stare at a specific spot on the wall and relax whilst listening to her instructions. At this point, the audience was told to be as quiet as possible, as this would affect the concentration of the volunteers on stage. While true showmen and show-women, even under these circumstances, would not turn their backs to the audience, all I could really see was the back of Lo Reid’s aging-blonde hair style, and the dead cow that sacrificed its life to provide the skin to make the bulk of her jacket.

Once all of the volunteers were all ‘under’ [and at this point, they were not the only ones feeling ‘veerrrry sleeeeepy’], they were all made to subconsciously act out several scenarios, including being a goldfish, being a train, and somewhat bizarrely, being in their favourite sex positions; a command that resulted in one girl flopping back on her chair and not moving a muscle, and one man roughly grabbing the hypnotist and attempting to mate with her. From this moment on, the show seemed to repeat jokes over, and over again, exposing the crude humour that this country has sadly succumbed to in recent years. Candidates running for NUS Presidency ended up taking their clothes off at various points throughout the show; students hope that this is the only time that they’ll be caught with their pants down.

Other skits included volunteers acting out an Indian Jeremy Kyle sketch [which some called racist], certain participants forgetting the existence of the number 7, and volunteers dancing to Beyoncé’s hit “Single Ladies”, seemingly of their own volition. Unfortunately, I’ve forgotten most of the events that occurred in the rest of the show, proving that I’ve either got a talent for repressing painful memories, or proving how forgettable Lo Reid’s show really is. 

Sadly enough, I’ve seen more highlights in my roommate’s latest hairdo, and the ticket didn’t seem to be worth the paper it was printed on. Duller than a digestive biscuit, and dryer than the desert, the show may be heading to a Student Union bar near you –avoid it at all costs. Lo Reid’s Hypnotist Show is exactly that: low.

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