You’ve probably seen the toothpaste.
The one that proudly boasts: “Removes up to 100% of stains*” — the asterisk practically winking at you from the corner of the box.
Now, unless you’ve been lobotomised by a loyalty scheme, you’ll realise that “up to 100%” covers every possible number between 0 and 100. It could remove none. One percent. Seventeen percent. Anything. It’s a phrase so meaningless it might as well say:
“Removes an amount of stains, maybe.”
And that, my dear rational human, is marketing in a nutshell: bold claims, tiny caveats, and the absolute minimum amount of truth required to legally avoid prosecution.
“SALE Must End!” – Must It?
Let’s start with the classics — the never-ending sale.
You know the ones. SCS, DCS, and back in the day, the legendary MFI — all ran so many “must end soon” sofa clearances that it’s a wonder any sofas ever got delivered. Half of Britain lived in fear of missing out on a corner suite they didn’t want, just because a sign printed in red ink told them time was running out.
Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.
These stores have been “closing down” longer than your uncle’s garage band. If the number of signs saying “FINAL REDUCTIONS” was accurate, they’d have to restock their going-out-of-business sale daily.
Imagine the boardroom:
“Let’s say it’s the last weekend again.”
“Didn’t we say that last weekend?”
“Yeah, and sales went up 14%. Run it again.”
It’s not retail. It’s theatre.
And we, the public, are the manipulated extras holding baskets and whispering, “Oooh, that’s a bargain,” as we get fleeced for something we didn’t even need.
Toothpaste Lies and Other Sparkly Nonsense
Now back to that toothpaste.
Because this isn’t just about sofas. It’s about everything.
- “Up to 24-hour protection” — so… could be three hours then?
- “Clinically tested” — did it pass? By whom? Was it even toothpaste?
- “Helps reduce the appearance of wrinkles” — doesn’t say your wrinkles. Or permanently. Or even how.
- “New & improved” — it’s always both, apparently.
Marketing loves words that sound nice but mean nothing. It’s verbal glitter. Designed to catch the eye and distract from the emptiness behind it.
The only honest label I’ve seen in years was on a cheap own-brand can of cola that simply said:
“Fizzy drink. Not Coca-Cola.”
That, I respect.
The Moodboard Theatre of Nonsense
Somewhere out there, in a modern office with exposed brick and succulents, there’s a team of “brand strategists” gathered around a moodboard.
They’re suggesting words like:
- Empower.
- Curated.
- Disrupt.
- Artisanal.
- Functional luxury.
Meanwhile, in another corner, the finance guy’s muttering:
“Can we make it smaller, cost less, and sell for more?”
Marketing tries to rebrand profit as virtue.
They’ll say:
“We updated our packaging to be more sustainable for the planet.”
Reality:
You made it thinner, flimsier, harder to recycle, and saved 3p per unit.
But hey, you told the story well.
For the Customer (Sure They Are)
Nothing grinds my gears more than the line:
“We did this to benefit our customers.”
No, you didn’t.
You did it for shareholders. You did it to cut costs. You did it to sell a few more bottles of dish soap during a recession by sticking a leaf on the label and calling it “eco-conscious.”
You changed the recipe because palm oil was cheaper.
You added a QR code so you could track me in Tesco.
You turned a shampoo bottle into a TikTok challenge.
Let’s stop pretending.
“Personalised” Just Means “Creepy”
You looked at a jumper online once and now it follows you around the internet like a clingy ex.
You bought one can of cat food and suddenly every algorithm thinks you’re the UK’s leading feline nutritionist.
“We thought you might like…”
No. You didn’t. You’re a soulless system that mistook my fleeting curiosity for undying devotion.
Personalisation isn’t personal — it’s profiling.
Wrapped in a banner ad, puffed up with buzzwords, and hurled at my inbox five times a week with all the subtlety of a toddler on a sugar high.
And don’t get me started on emails that open with:
“Hi, we’ve curated some picks just for you!”
Have you? Because it’s a pack of hair clips, a lawnmower, and a dog toy.
I’m not bald, I don’t have a garden, and my 60kg Dogue de Bordeaux will rip your unicorn toy in half before I’ve finished reading the Made in China label.
Final Thought (Before I Rebrand Myself as Done)
Marketing has become the art of saying absolutely nothing, but doing it in a custom font, with mood lighting, and a scent diffuser called “brand experience.”
Every claim is vague, every benefit is blurry, and every sale is a lie with lovely kerning.
And the worst part? We nod along.
We accept “up to 100%” like it means something.
We fall for countdown timers that reset like a dodgy kitchen clock.
We let toothpaste boxes whisper empty promises to us before 7am while we stand there, half-asleep, brushing hope into our molars.
Next time you see “Up to 100% satisfaction guaranteed”, just smile, sigh, and remember:
“Up to” includes zero.
And that’s exactly what they’re hoping you’ll settle for.
