Diablevert

A Killer Spot....

So I saw this ad.

It's starts off very sweet. They've got the gauzy filter on, there's tinkly music box music overlaid with echo-y giggles, a young boy and his sister playing in the backyard. The girl swings on her swingset, the boy kicks a soccer ball around. Mom and Dad smile benevolently from afar. The boy kicks a goal into the corner of the net and does a little hip-wriggling, I-totally-rock dance. Aw.
Cut to a young guy, mid-twenties or so, cutting toward the goal in his club team match. He shoots, he scores, he does a little I-totally-rock hip wiggle. Obviously the same kid grown up; this must be some kind of commercial for life insurance or something, right? Maybe laundry detergent; let's see if he does a sliding tackle. Nope, instead it's off to the pub to celebrate with his friends. Much cheering, backslapping, the clinking of pints. With a cheerful wave our victorious goal-scorer hops in his car to go home.
Cut to the little kid fooling around with the soccer ball. Okay, this must be for life insurance; it's well past time to introduce mud as a theme.
Cut to an extreme close-up of the car speeding down a slick, slightly foggy road.
Kids again; the girl swings away, turning over her shoulder to make a teasing remark to her big brother.
Cut to the car again, then to a close-up of the forehead of our goal-scorer, suddenly creased with worry and beaded with sweat.
The little kids picks up his soccer ball…
…and the driver looses control of the car, skidding, tumbling, taking out a hedge and heading straight for our tow-haired, cow-licked junior athlete….

No! Not….Surely not? Surely, at least, they'll discretely cut away at this juncture?

Aw, hells no.

Dude, it was freaking AWESOME.

He just takes the little fucker right out! Two metric tons of GTO roll right over the little bastard, and they show the kid lying there in a three-inch deep, kid-sized dent, with arms and legs pointed in directions arms and legs don't go. Meanwhile, the driver pops out the window and hauls himself out like an upside-down Duke boy. He dusts himself off and looks up to see…Consequences? I'll show you consequences, you callow drunk! Look, look upon what ye have wrought as the grieving father, breast heaving, lifts his child-sized crash test dummy to his bosom, while you stand there with one tiny nick along your hairline providing that crucial artistic trail of blood down your cheek, along the path whence a tear might have traveled, were you at all capable of human feeling, Damnable Rummy! Think of the Chiiiilll-dren! Think! Look, I'm waving one right in your face! And he's dead! DEAD, I TELL YOU!!

Awesome.