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Adverts About Adverts. Big Ones.

What can be a more pleasurable experience than being given the hard sell whilst urinating in a motorway service station toilet? If there is one, I don’t want to hear about it. These were those. And them massive ones you see in the plastic cases out front near where the disabled spaces are. And some giant vinyl banner thing that I can’t quite remember the point of.

The motorway service station is quite a phenomenon, when you think about it. You’d be forgiven for thinking that because of the soulless, depressing nature of them generally, food, drink and general other refreshments would be at a cut price. Putting a sort of gloss on having to spend any of your life inside such a sterile and miserable cathedral of utter despondency.

But no. GInsters pasties cost a fiver and a Burger King meal would set you back at least ten quid. Though if you’re in the business of buying the latter, you’re pretty much dead anyway.

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