Today I opened the newspaper, La Stampa, and the double page 4-5 was completely taken up by a large electronics shop ad.
The pages were masterfully covered with small pictures of products, each on with its stunningly cheap! price. And in the centre of each half-page ... in a glorious pose, reminding me of the Athletic Model Guild pictures, corny, beefcake, delicious: a big dude in a leopard leotard, wielding a sledgehammer and looking straight at the reader.

He smashes prices. With his sledgehammer. And his biceps are the size of his head. And his leotard shows an impressive crotch bulge.
We will not investigate the crotch bulge... it could be real, it could be socks, it could be a padded jockstrap.
But the sledgehammer, the manful look, the direct gaze: all of it talks not of electronics, fiddly bits of black plastic sold by scrawny pale-faced salespeople. It talks of power, of massive pounding blows dealt in primeval rhythms.

In fact, the leotard is very incidental. It is the sledgehammer that does it all.

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