Bombardier Beer: Which Century Are We Living In?

It's been a lean time out on the Orca of late. Too many bow-legged women, not enough beery fuckwittery. But Bombardier have made up for it in spades.

In short: Rik Mayall plays a piss-poor-pastiche of his Blackadder-era Lord Flashheart character, shouting a lot and touching his groin whist hailing the virtues of Wells Bombardier bitter. The video is bad enough - irony seemingly a lost concept as a brain-injury survivor headbutts cannonballs and celebrates an English victory with a beer that has an Old French name.

But the attendant website - sweet fucking Jesus. It's slick, interactive, well-made and utterly pointless. You can Like it all you like, you still can't polish a turd of a pint. Whether that's the 4.1, 4.3 or 4.7% version. What's the difference between the versions, I hear you say? Possibly taxation and supermarket profit margin rates, we're guessing.

Wells & Young have apparently spunked the thick end of £4 million on this campaign. A fair wodge of that may end up in the coffers of their PR partners, Kaper. Here's hoping that Jocasta and Jeremy spend their bonuses on quality china rather than shit bitter.  At this rate we've high hopes for a rebranding of another Kaper client, Pot Noodle. Rumours of a Tuna Bukakke special edition are, however, unsubstantiated.

You've been close before, but for marrying an outdated comedy skit with an overelaborate marketing campaign that most of your punters won't give three shits about - congratulations, Bombardier. You've Jumped The Beer Shark!

Brewdog, Gonzo Porn, Pregnant Nude Britney and Free Android Downloads

Truth be told, we're in a shooting-lazy-fish-in-a-mash-tun-with-a-fucking-twelve-bore mood tonight.

So we almost apologise for choosing Brewdog as our inaugural Jumping The Beer Shark "Shower Of Cunts" award.

We have neither the energy nor the inclination to recap the intense ass-hattery levels of stupidity that the Brewdog publication machine has steamrollered through the clusterfuck bloggerdom. To be true, some of it has been piss-the-mattress funny. Though we're still waiting for that triple-barrel-aged-virgins-kidney-pickled-in-a-oude-gueze-scotch-ale-with-cranberry-blah-blah-blah release.

But for the full-on bullshit of Royal Virility Performance, even us pissed old hacks are flabbergasted. It doesn't matter whether it's really a beer or not. When the Morning Advertiser buys into the bullshit and still can't crow out the facts and figures that BlahDog spout out, you know it's all getting fucked into a cocked hat.

Brewdog have jumped the shark so many times that Jaws has got great fucking gouge marks in his back. But this is so spectacularly meh that we've finally given in and said: Brewdog - You've Triple Salco'd Over The Shark.

PS - if we do buy a bottle, is there any chance it'll actually arrive? On time, securely packaged?

Will it come in a Jiffy ;-)

You're Shit And You Know You Are

You loved it. It was fresh, funny, the epitome of cool.

And then it took all your money and shat in your mouth.

It became a parody of itself. It got to the point when you couldn't defend it. When its antics were no longer kooky, just kacky.

It jumped the shark.

And it's happening all over the world with beer. Craft beer. Black IPA. And twattish breweries like...

... three guesses. We'll vent out spleen tomorrow.