The Mound - #38 Resurrecting Fosters

Welcome to The Mound, a weekly newsletter in which we at Good One Creative pitch— for free — our solutions to the world’s problems.

Every ad works, that's a fact. Every ad puts a product in front of someone, and seeing that product increases the chance of that person purchasing that product. The question, then, is how well each ad works. The second question is whether that was worth the money it cost to produce and to get in front of that person, and the next person, and the next person.

With this said, most ads don't work very well. Because, despite all of our data, we can't predict what will work. A recent study measured professionals' ability to predict which ad in a group of ads would perform best. The results:

Experienced marketers: 52%
Ad agency executives: 47%
Advertising students (undergrads): 44%
Marketing analysts: 61%

(Before we continue, it's important to note that a brand's growth can be ensured by the amount it advertises relative to competitors. Do not take us for apologists. We remind you: every ad works.)

Monday marked the 25th anniversary of Guinness' most famous spot, The Surfer. This ad today holds a very special place in the industry's hearts - so much so that I'm sitting here and writing to you of its birthday. Not because it's a beautiful, unconventional spot - but because it is beautiful, unconventional spot and it sold a metric shit-tonne of beer.

Today we honour the spirit of The Surfer - and we'd like to pitch you another beer, one with a history so pained and desperate to accommodate this, the fighting spirit of The Mound.

Here's the pitch:

Fosters Lager. For a beer not seen on Australian shelves, it has a remarkable level of awareness. The beer sold to the world as Australian, shunned and despised by its own people. No hometown prophets etc.

Here's how we fix it:

Fosters - very successfully, mind you - leveraged the stereotype of Australia as a kind of bumpkin factory for international appeal. Apparently Australians resented this. Rewatch the Paul Hogan spots, though, and tell us they aren't more charming than anything on our airwaves currently.

The only issue was that, well, we weren't in on the joke; we were the joke. To make up for this betrayal of sorts, Fosters need only address Australia deeper than any brand has before.

Fosters, you've got to prove it to me.

You've got to speak in a way that resonates with the battler in me. The scallywag. The beer-drinker - with an accent, yes, but the man who's used this accent to get through some of life's biggest curveballs.

Thinking about CUBs portfolio of brands - and each of the moments they own, Carlton has Footy, Victoria Bitters has after-work, and Great Northern has camping. So what's a drinking occasion that Fosters can own in this way? A drinking occasion that no other brand would dare touch for fear of appearing a loser - or uncouth? Of looking exactly like an Australian?

We would like Fosters to be the official beer of funerals.

What's more appropriate and at eye-level with remembering people from the 80s - than cracking a can of something similarly gone?

We could leverage the brand's demise to appeal to anyone that gave it a crack and is no more. In this hypothetical world, you couldn't buy Fosters off the shelf. It would only be available in kegs - and only upon the provision of a death certificate.

Would it work? Yes. Would it work best? According to study of marketers, of analysts, of undergraduates and people much smarter than we: it's a coin toss, apparently.

You’re welcome Australia.