There's hair dye for him, even special shampoo for his MANdruff. They even have their own range of dips and yoghurts, which henceforth shall be renamed Broghurts. What would happen if we ladies dared to eat these manly treats? Would we suddenly start scratching ourselves and demanding full control of the remote? Is it safe for me to drink a Woody? By all accounts, every woman in the world would instantly desire me the minute I cracked one open.
Could all this advertising be classed as discriminatory?
Where's the sister burger to The Big Bloke? Which lady among us wouldn't speed to our nearest drive-thru to sample The Whopping Great Sheila if it were on offer? It makes one wonder what marketers will think of next. Bloke-a-Cola, Brotato Chips, Mantibiotics, maybe the man in your life will soon be checking his Hemail from his GuyPad.
Maybe I should jump on the bandwagon, too, and publish my own book of BROcabulary. Despite the fight for the almighty dollar as advertisers compete for their man-size share of the market, just maybe some good can come from it.
We have already seen the difference that can be made by pairing the right guy with the right product or cause. Topics that men wouldn't touch on with a 40-foot bargepole are now discussed and debated daily: the drink to get drunk culture, domestic violence, erectile dysfunction and prostate cancer.
If you get the right celebrity/role model to endorse the right message big, bloke-sized things can happen. I use John Kirwan and his campaign for depression and mental illness as a classic example. Perhaps the big, brave men in our lives really would go to the doctor if we renamed him a Health Brofessional. More prostates and testicles would be examined if they were offered a Guyagnosis.
If such positive change can be effected simply by MANipulating the English MANguage then I'm all for it. Products, however, are another story. I'd like to think that my life forms won't be so easily taken in. If given the choice I'd like to think they can see through all the hype and realise that a dip or yoghurt is not worth $2 more just because it's named after an extinct prehistoric animal and is thicker (the product, not the man) than its supermarket rivals.
It horrifies me to think anyone could be so gullible as to buy into such marketing, yet they do and they do it in droves.
With social media taking centre stage in our lives, we are certainly feeling the pressure to at least pretend to be looking the part and living the life. Keeping up with the Joneses has become more important than keeping up with the mortgage payments and often comes at the expense of them.
Self-belief is a thing of the past. We are literally living and dying based upon what other people believe us to be.
I hope the life forms have aspirations that go beyond a six-pack - of abs or alcoholic beverage - and that they opt to be go-getters as opposed to trendsetters. If they play their cards right I may even reward them with some manly HEaster eggs.
While I have no doubt the advertising battle for our dollar will leave a virtual army of consumer casualties in its wake, and those who must have will have, I still have hope the much simpler things in life, like a cup of instant coffee, will outlive the overpriced Mochacappasoywhacker or whatever the hell is the trendiest drink of the day.
Smiling loudly, on the other hand, is always in fashion, feels good, has proven health benefits and, best of all, is free. So I hope you get the chance to do lots of it this long weekend.
Waffles Bone of Contention.
This week it is awarded to all those of you who have a bloody great four wheel drive vehicle you don't really need, but have to look the part, that you then park on the side of the road just past an intersection turn-off so the rest of us who drive normal cars can't see past the damn thing to know if there is any oncoming traffic. Why not, while we're at it, extend it to those who parallel park the same way. Have some consideration.
