For whatever reason, I hold an inordinate amount of hatred for Tony Sinclair.

Maybe it’s the posh accent, maybe it’s the above-the-fray air that he has about or the feeling that I most likely will never have as much fun at one time as he appears to be having in these commercials. Of course, it’s more of a cheeky, “we’re drinking, but showing no signs of being at all drunk” kind of fun, which isn’t real.

Can you remember the last time you saw anyone drinking gin who wasn’t either passed out or trying to start a fight? Yeah, it doesn’t happen.

Sure, my vitriol is probably misplaced. Why do I care about some stupid advert that has no significance to me whatsoever? I might as well get pissed about a commercial misrepresenting going to Disney Land with your family as “fun.” I’m never going to do that (sorry in advance, children I’ve never really considered having) and I rarely deal with people who do, so why should I care? There are certainly more important and valid things going on around me that I should care about as much as I care about these ads. But, for some reason (perhaps because I have an Advertising degree), I simply cannot let myself just let them go.

And because I care, I want to show Tony Sinclair how I Tanqueray.

I tend to Tanqueray in a completely dissimilar fashion to the supposedly affluent Mr. Sinclair, which means that I’m stumbling around in a rather violent fashion, barking out slurred cuss words and brandishing a grimy plunger like it’s a baseball bat. Watch out Tony, I’m going to spray toilet water all over you and your perfectly prepared drink!

Is the gin market so desperately slow that the folks over at Tanqueray decided that they wanted to create a fake spokesperson who talks like we should know exactly who he is? I don’t know this guy and I don’t care what his name is. In fact, the first few times I saw one of these ads, I actually thought I was out of the loop and that this “Tony Sinclair” was a famous person that I did not know of. Damn you for messing with my mind, Tanqueray.

It did made me feel stupid and small, which, I guess, is a great way to get one to start drinking copious amounts of gin. So, maybe by portraying a annoyingly, undeservedly arrogant bastard hanging out with beautiful women in beautiful locales, Tanqueray has found the perfect way to market their product.

Or, more likely, they’ve found the perfect way to piss off people like me, who would just rather have a beer.