Panadol is a pain killer. It kills pain.
But pains come in different sizes.
So Panadol makes different strength variants for different strength pains.
But not everyone knows the difference.
To establish differentiation between variants, these epic radio spots were produced.
Toothpick Typhoon
The tiny timber toothpick thrusts and turns after a hearty meal – picking out pork pieces between your teeth as you stroll through the streets. Your eye gets caught by Candice: the bombshell beauty bouncing by on her bike. You watch her ride off, unpleasantly unknowing of the signpost in your path – your face poised to politely greet the pole with a thud.
And when the wee wooden shard splinters in your mouth – oh, yes – there will be some pain.
But such a pain is so unlike like the forceful gales of a category five hurricane that part palm trees like tinder twigs, launching lumber shrapnel through the air like a whirling nail bomb. The wind howls, dogs scatter, and as you stand awestruck by this strength of nature, an uprooted mangrove momentarily takes flight before diving down toward you with designs to destroy.
And so you see, a toothpick is certainly no typhoon.
There’s pain, and then there’s a different kind of pain.
For pains beyond the ordinary, take something extraordinary.
Panadol Extra Advance.
Bench Sinkhole
The creaks echo through the conference room like a cavalcade of crickets. Comfort is hard-found on this designer bench the boss of your boss’s boss believed better than the ones that kept quiet. And as you lean back, the creaking clamour climbs to a crescendo as the bench buckles beneath you, and gravity goes to zero.
And when you come crashing to the floor – oh, yes – there will be some pain.
But such a pain is so contrasting to the rumble, the crumble, the land of good Mother Earth sinking, collapsing like some second-rate soufflé. A violent spasm and you drop a meter in a moment. The ground gives out and you’re left suspended for a split second, then down, deep, dark, feeling like poor Alice, unaware of the awaiting abyss.
And so you see – a broken bench is certainly no sinkhole.
There’s pain, and then there’s a different kind of pain.
For pains beyond the ordinary, take something extraordinary.
Panadol Extra Advance.
Acorn Meteor
Leaves rustle near sunset on the far end of Memory Lane. Squirrels scamper haphazardly. Your curiosity is caught by a crack from above and you gaze skyward to see, just a moment too late, a single sacrificial acorn dropping from the tree. You close your eyes, sigh, and wait.
And when the nut strikes you square between the eyes – oh, yes – there will be some pain.
But such a pain is without equal to the streaking lights that rip through the twilight, shredding the sky in brilliant bands of yellows and reds. A deep whoosh shakes your senses as meteors pierce the concrete calm. And you stand, looking upward in awe, appreciating the overture as the big one comes – parting the clouds – and the wide blue yonder flashes white one last time.
And so you see – an acorn is certainly no meteor.
There’s pain, and then there’s a different kind of pain.
For pains beyond the ordinary, take something extraordinary.
Panadol Extra Advance.
