If you're writing television commercials beware of attacks by special interest groups who see sinister things in humble concepts. GM was forced to delete scenes in its 2008 Super Bowl commercial where an assembly line robot is fired for messing up the product build and, unable to find happiness in menial jobs outside the factory, commits suicide. The spot intended to show how GM rejects cars that are less than perfect. Nice idea, pushed to extremes. Better that the robot learned the error of his ways and went back to work.

I've been there. During the late 70s GM was downsizing its vehicle platforms and, as Chev/Olds/Cadillac creative director for MacLaren Advertising, its Canadian ad agency, I was charged with rationalising the downsized cars in print and TV. Including an Olds Cutlass that looked like a hatchback but had no hatch. Inspired by mythical King Arthur tales I placed the Cutlass on a Florida beach where a beautiful "Guinevere" dressed in a full-length silk robe appeared from within the (dry ice) mists. As a voice-over announcer quietly extolled the virtues of downsizing, our Lady of the Lake dreamily ran her fingers over the car's sculptural lines. The commercial would never win awards but it made the most of a car that, by critical standards, was a dog.

Shortly after the spot was aired I received a phone call from a woman representing a US feminist group. She accused me and the ad agency of exploiting woman's bodies to sell products. Excuse me... the lady whose subtle curves were all but hidden in a full-length gown? Though meaning no disrespect to female libbers I disarmed the caller by pointing out that our model had followed this commercial exposure by making her debut as Playboy magazine's Playgirl of the Month.

What I remember best was the wrap party after the shoot, with the DJ playing slow-dancing tunes while she and I were the only couple on the dance floor. All our production crew could do was look on enviously. Now that was a TV moment.