It’s tough for any artist to enter a genre that’s overshadowed by one titanic performer. So pity the stars of the Rugby World Cup as they attempt a self-deprecating vignette for the purpose of shilling snacktime products. This is Lineker country. In his golden run of definitive crisp ads, Gary had all the skills: comic timing; willingness to radically repaint his own image by stealing food off children instead of being dead nice; and a technical mastery of the pop-and-crunch.
Having committed to challenging the Lineker oeuvre, Lucozade Sport – the flat version of the sugary drink for fluey kids – tries to make the task easier for England rugger skipper Chris Robshaw. He doesn’t actually have any lines and for some of his big scene, he’s acting opposite an inanimate rubber mask of his own face, a thespian smackdown that ends as a scoreless draw between him and the mask.
The high, high concept that takes Robbo there is a Faragian dystopia where, to ensure a home nations win in the RWC, it’s been made illegal for foreign rugbyists to enjoy the miraculous benefits of Lucozade Sport. In an attempt to bypass these sugary sanctions, Aussie winger Drew Mitchell takes elocution lessons to sound English before donning the mask and conning a newsagent into selling him Sport. But just as Mitchell is about to get his grubby mitts on that isotonic goodness, the real Robshaw steps in and gestures wordlessly for Mitchell to hand the swag over, in a moment that couldn’t be simpler but has the air of having required 65 takes.
Gary’s still the champion.
