Watch Out.

Stress doesn’t arise suddenly. Often it emerges gradually, like a creeping barrage. So by the time you even realise you’re stressed, it’s too late, German artillery is falling upon Allied trenches and you’re chain-smoking roll-ups while crying in the shower and listening Limp Bizkit ‘Break Stuff’. But now your smartwatch can ensure you never reach that point.

Google unveiled the new-and-improved Pixel Watch 2 this week. It comes with all manner of AI-boosted algorithms and sensors that can detect signs of stress such as heart rate, changes in skin temperature, and whether or not you’re gluing yourself to the road because you’re depressed about what the weather might be like in 30 years’ time.

If the watch notices these signs, whether it’s positive stress like excitement or negative stress, it will send the wearer a notification so they can act accordingly by either firing their gun into the air or punching a hole through their wall. Handy. Although I’m not sure I need a watch telling me I’m pissed off. Feels like it could be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Plus it’ll make healthy emotional repression that bit more challenging.

Toast of the Town.

Cast your mind back to the halcyon days before we had politics to divide us on a daily basis and were forced to express our most extreme emotions of love and hate over a sticky, salty spread made from yeast extract. Marmite. You either love it or you hate it. And that same dichotomy may well apply to their new ad.

YouGov research revealed that a staggering 43% of 18-24 year olds in the UK have never tried Marmite, so the brand launched a campaign this week aimed at freshers heading off to university and being forced to feed themselves for the first time. So, naturally, these freshers need an education. But not in business studies or whatever dead-end degree the broken university system is teaching these days in exchange for thousands of pounds of debt. No, the youth of our nation need an education in Marmite. So, who better to deliver that lesson than two puppets grabbing, stroking and licking their way to yeast-induced euphoria?

We appreciate this campaign may seem a bit odd, but bear in mind it’s not for you. It’s for students who will almost definitely be on drugs for the majority of the next year, so this probably all makes perfect sense to them.

Stock-home Syndrome.

Life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Nor is it all meatballs and reasonably-priced flatpack furniture. Sometimes it’s more vomiting into a bucket and pissing on the floor. Not at the same time, of course. We’re not animals.

IKEA are embracing realism this week. Filthy, disgusting realism.

The brand’s latest campaign shows the often grim underbelly of domestic life in all its squalor, with three spots each masquerading as a glossy lifestyle ad before pulling the old switcharoo and revealing some of the brand’s charming homeware being soiled by naughty dogs, a mother who clearly has a drinking problem and should probably be referred to social services, and a teenage boy who has trashed his parents’ paradisical palace of peace, tranquillity and puffy cushions. Bet he’s a student. Must have got into the MDMArmite.

Le Petit Theft.

That’s a nice Google Pixel Watch 2 you’ve got there. Would be a shame if someone nicked it. Oh look, what’s that over there? Is that Daniel Khalife riding a bicycle along the canal again? Yoink. What, this? Oh, just my new Google Pixel Watch 2. No I don’t know where yours has gone. Anyway, see you later, grandma. Feel better soon.

Apropos of nothing, I do like how an escaped terrorist got caught while undergoing the type of wholesome Sunday morning activity a millennial would turn to for a bit of much-needed self-care after a long week of worrying about the environment and drinking pumpkin spice lattes. Sorry, *alleged escaped terrorist. Got to admire the shithousery it took to plead not guilty.

Netflix France are taking a break from setting fire to their bed bug-infested mattresses to celebrate theft this week. The campaign appropriates iconic luxury adverts, showing brands such as Rolex, Cartier, and Chanel that appear to have been ‘robbed’ by Lupin, the eponymous anti-hero of a new series which is apparently about a mastermind thief and not that big hairy wolf chavvy from Harry Potter.

Crafty. We like it. In fact, we like it so much that I’ve been inspired to go and ‘forget’ to pay for my banana at the Tesco self-checkout. Vive la révolution.

Hard Life.

Speaking of thieves, ‘Sleazy Jet’ lived up to their unofficial moniker this week.

To peel back the layers on the beautiful onion that is coolsh*t, this story was originally going to be about the new Chipotle robots that can make over 200 burrito bowls an hour. However, that felt rather trivial compared to a household name brand bullying a much-loved band into rebranding.

This week Easy Life were forced to change their name after easyGroup filed a lawsuit claiming the band’s name infringed on their trademark… despite the band having formed seven years before easyGroup acquired the name Easylife, and without any prior objection from the original company from which easyGroup acquired the name a year ago.

While easyGroup may technically and legally be in the right, this feels like a colossal own goal PR-wise. And it’s not even like you could easily get the two brands mixed up. I’ve never once tried to listen to melodic indie music about the trials and tribulations of adolescence and accidentally booked a return ticket to Gibraltar.

Down in the Dumps.

This exhibition is the shit. Literally. Like a Jackson Pollock-inspired dirty protest, ‘The Origin of the Faeces: Poo at the Zoo’ is splattering canvasses with some excellent excrement. Why? Because it’s art, of course, you uncultured philistine.

You can learn a lot about a creature from their faecal matter. You may however be asked to leave their house. But zookeeper turned artist Tracey Lee has managed to make a career out of her unhealthy interest in bowel movements.

The exhibition, which opens at Fusebox in Kingston-upon-Thames, is the result of more than 20 years of collecting. Suppose everyone’s got to have a hobby. Even if that hobby is disgusting. But on the upside, it’s not often we get to live up to the coolsh*t proposition quite so literally. What an absolutely repulsive treat.

The Coolsh*t Podcast - Episode 61.

Big bright balls, easyJet court halls, and pin-board stalls.