Mosquito Advertising: The Crunch Campaign

By Kate Hunter

Mosquito Advertising is home from New York when the shocking news breaks: the government is banning advertising for soft drinks. All the work they've done to save Parfizz has been for nothing! Katie is furious. Bans don't work, everyone knows that, and while the other soft drink companies weasel their way around the new rules, Mosquito Advertising plots to re-write them. Katie reckons the key is to make ads for fruit as cool as ads for fizzy drinks. It's a great idea—all they have to do is convince the Prime Minister. But great ideas aren't always enough, especially when you're also dealing with paying clients, a missing kid, moody friends, shadowy enemies and a family set to triple in size. In this new adventure, the world's first kid-run advertising agency discovers that sometimes the most important thing to sell isn't a thing, it's an idea.

• Language: English
• Publisher: University of Queensland Press
• Release date: Aug 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9780702248276

Book preview

Kate has been writing one thing or another since she was very small. Originally keen on journalism, her inclination to embellish the truth got in the way of a credible journalistic career. After twenty years as a copywriter, Kate still writes ads but prefers writing novels. Kate has published two books in this series – Mosquito Advertising: The Parfizz Pitch and Mosquito Advertising: The Blade Brief. She lives in Brisbane with her husband, their three kids, a dog, and – after rain – more than a few mosquitoes.

www.mosquitoadvertising.com

www.katehunter.com.au

Also by Kate Hunter

Mosquito Advertising: The Parfizz Pitch

Mosquito Advertising: The Blade Brief

For Janey

CHAPTER ONE

The Lodge, Canberra

Prime Minister Clara Whiting brushed her teeth. First the back, then the outside, the sides, then the inside surfaces. Finally the front teeth.

‘Clara!’ yelled her husband. ‘The car is waiting.’

Swishing toothpaste and water around in her mouth, Clara wished that for once she could take her time. Being in charge of a government didn’t mean you were in charge of your life. She always felt that she had to be somewhere she wasn’t. Having a car waiting at all times seemed luxurious and smacked of power, but the pressure was constant and exhausting. Sometimes she didn’t want to go anywhere. She spat, then took a sip from a glass by the basin.

‘Come on, Clara. You can’t be late for First Thing. They slaughtered you last time. You know what breakfast TV’s like. They forgive nothing and it’s after six!’

Clara sighed and peered into the mirror. The bags under her eyes were bigger than they had been last year. She dabbed a little makeup on them. Phil was right – she needed to be on time for First Thing. Ridiculous that the prime minister was slave to a television show! It used to be the other way round.

The prime minister’s car cruised through the spring morning. Canberra started its day early. Clara looked enviously at the runners, then turned her attention to the notes on her lap. Rejani Reed – the new anchorwoman at First Thing would be asking what the government planned to do about childhood obesity. And she would call it an ‘epidemic’. ‘Problems’ were so five minutes ago – it had to be an epidemic and it had to scare people. Clara sighed and pulled some papers from her briefcase. The figures suggested overweight kids were everywhere. It was hard to believe. If they were true, the numbers were worrying. Every day the health minister, Tony Cutler, brought her more grim news. Kids with diabetes and heart disease, young knees buckling under bodies too old for their age, high blood pressure in kids barely old enough for high school. She looked out the window.

There had to be a solution, but what was it? To do nothing would be political death. She would be voted out and there was still so much to do. There was no choice but to support Tony’s suggestion – ban junk food advertising. Beginning with soft drinks – everything from the big multinationals down to small local companies like Parfitt’s. That was what she would be doing this morning, whether she liked it or not.

Toowong, Brisbane

‘Katie! Katie, I have to go to work.’

Waking up was hard. Katie’s brain felt like it was wrapped in a blanket.

‘What’s the time?’ It felt like she’d been asleep for only an hour, though she’d gone to bed at six the night before.

‘It’s half past seven, love, and I have to go to work, but I’ll be home early. In all the excitement yesterday I hardly heard anything about what you did on your trip.’

Katie sat up and rubbed her eyes. They were sealed shut with ‘eye crispies’, as her friend Lorraine liked to call them.

Her mum sat on the end of her bed. ‘It’s so good to have you home,’ she said, rubbing Katie’s foot through the blankets. ‘I really missed you.’

‘I’ve only been gone two and a bit weeks,’ said Katie, not wanting to admit she’d missed her mum too. ‘What day is it?’ She yawned and squinted at the window. Brisbane daylight was so bright compared with the cool grey skies of New York.

Katie had heard of jet lag, of course, but she’d never been overseas before, so this was the first time she’d experienced it. The spring sun was streaming through her window and the October air already had a hint of summer heat, but her body clock told her it was midnight.

‘It’s Monday, but you don’t have to go to school. I called Mrs Sinnamon on Friday and told her I’d see how you were when you got home. I don’t think you’d learn much if you went today. But I do want you to have everything sorted for tomorrow. All right?’

‘No problem.’ Katie just wanted to go back to sleep.

‘You have to get up.’ Her mum could read her mind. ‘If you go to sleep now, it’ll take you days to get back to normal.’

Katie nodded and swung her legs around. Her feet touched the floorboards. They hadn’t been able to do that last year.

‘I’ll see you later, then. Make sure you eat some breakfast – not dinner – even if you don’t feel like it.’

‘Okay.’

Her mum kissed the top of her head and picked up her bag. ‘Call me if you need anything. I’ll be home by five-thirty, six at the latest.’

‘Is that new?’ Katie’s eyes were beginning to focus. Her mum was wearing a soft, floaty blue top. It made her look much younger than 36.

‘Yes. New jeans too. What do you think?’

‘Nice,’ said Katie, a bit puzzled. Her mum looked great, but she hardly ever bought clothes.

Katie sat on the edge of her bed until she heard the guttural roar of the old Porsche as it backed out from under their house. For a moment she considered curling up again, but she knew that would be bad. She was happy to be home and she only had one day to enjoy it.

Stepping around the clothes and books and papers that were spewing from the bags she’d half unpacked, Katie headed for the kitchen to make a cup of tea and some Vegemite toast. She’d loved the States, everything about it – if only she’d been able to find Vegemite. That and her mum were what she’d missed most.

‘Yo!’ Lorraine was at the back door. How come she was taking the day off? Lorraine was a bit of a swot.

‘Come in. I’m making some toast. Want some?’

‘No way, I’m never eating Vegemite toast again. It’s poppy-seed bagels with cream cheese all the way for me now. I’ve informed the authorities.’

‘And how did Pippa go with that?’ Katie laughed. Lorraine’s mother was the most uptight woman she knew. Every day there was a new diet, a new exercise, a new path to spiritual happiness.

‘She told me if I can find gluten-free bagels and lactose-free cream cheese I could go for it.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘Well, Tofutti’s beaten me to the lactose-free cream cheese, but I might try developing the bagels. Possibly work on them myself,’ said Lorraine happily. ‘You were in that Create Your Dream, Then Sell It session, weren’t you? There’s a buyer for everything.’

‘Yes, but there’s only one of your mum, thank goodness. You won’t get rich on gluten- and lactose-free bagels, though. Not in Brisbane, anyway.’

‘Whatever.’ Lorraine shrugged. ‘I’ve got a few fashion ideas to work on before I get to bagels. Hey, turn on the TV. I need to find out what’s happening. I couldn’t believe there was hardly anything about Australia on American television – even with hundreds of channels!’

Katie had no interest in the news. She was thinking about a Christmas campaign for the Parfitt Family Soft Drink Company. Her mum and Liam Parfitt, who she worked for, had plans to release a Christmas drink. It was tricky to make – it had red and green swirls in it that refused to mix, giving the bottle a candy cane look. They would sell it through December. Only a small factory like Parfitt’s could do something like this and everyone was excited about the idea. Katie grabbed a layout pad and a stack of Post-it notes from her room and joined Lorraine on the sofa.

‘Look,’ said Lorraine, ‘Rejani’s interviewing the prime minister!’

Katie didn’t look up. Politics was boring and Lorraine annoyed her, the way she carried on about Rejani Reed as if they were best friends when they’d met only three times.

‘That top,’ Lorraine rambled, ‘someone should tell Clara Whiting not to wear grey. It makes her look old.’

Katie looked up. Not because of Lorraine’s observations on the prime minister’s dress sense, but because she’d heard the words ‘soft drink’.

‘What was that?’ Katie put her pad on the floor.

‘They’re going to ban advertising of junk food – starting with soft drinks.’

‘WHAT?’ Katie grabbed the remote from Lorraine’s lap and turned the volume up.

‘It’s time we took decisive action,’ Clara Whiting was saying. ‘This is the first generation of children whose health will be worse than that of their parents. We see a ban on advertising as the first step in turning that trend around.’

‘Do you think you will have support for this new policy?’ asked Rejani Reed, wearing her I’m-a-serious-journalist expression.

‘Well, Rejani, naturally the manufacturers won’t be happy, but we are not stopping them from selling their products – just from advertising them. It’s the same policy we’ve had on cigarettes for years. They will become accustomed to it.’

‘But won’t they simply find new, indirect ways to promote their products? On the internet or at places like sports grounds?’ Rejani frowned slightly.

Katie was surprised. That was a good question.

‘We’re hoping they do the right thing. This is the health of Australia’s children we’re talking about —’

‘But isn’t that the responsibility of parents? Prime minister, this sounds like another example of government interfering in people’s lives. Can’t parents just say no?’

The prime minister hesitated. That was weird. Normally she had all her answers ready. ‘The government is here to support parents, and to lead by example.’ She pressed her lips firmly together.

‘Prime Minister Clara Whiting, thank you.’ Rejani’s perfectly made-up face filled the screen. ‘Next up, we go to Sydney’s Cronulla Beach, where locals are hoping to make the Guinness Book of Records with a sausage roll the length of a bus!’

Katie turned the TV off.

‘What are you going to do?’ said Lorraine.

‘I dunno.’ Katie drummed her fingers on the pad. ‘But we need the others here. Now.’

Fat red flowers were appearing on the sausage tree in Katie’s backyard. Brisbane didn’t have much of a spring, so winter leapt straight into summer. Before they left for the States in mid-September, early morning meetings in the tree office still meant tracksuit tops, footy jerseys and Lorraine wore her knitted ugg boots. But October meant warm weather that became steamy within weeks. That made Katie happy, despite her worries. Summer brought long days, bare feet, dinners outside and, like a major prize at the end of the year, the six-week long Christmas holidays.

She hadn’t been to school a single day this term, but still she was counting the days until they broke up: 64 (not including weekends). Katie ran across the street to get the others. She could have phoned, but she wanted to stretch her legs. The trip home had been a long one. They had flown from New York to Los Angeles, where they had to wait for six boring hours. They had been upgraded from economy to first class (thanks to Barry Sharp, the owner of Blade Air), so the flight had been filled with great food and the latest movies and games, but Katie wasn’t used to sitting for so long. Plus Auntie Nancy, who accompanied them, had got on her nerves.

Katie had railed against Nancy going as their chaperone. What a joke. Nancy was more likely than any of them to do something stupid. She’d once been arrested for whacking a former client onboard a plane. But Katie’s mum Vanessa hadn’t been able to take time off work. Parfitt’s Soft Drink Company was starting to do well and with Liam Parfitt she was planning all sorts of ways to improve distribution and increase sales.

‘We probably don’t even need an adult to come with us,’ Katie had said hopefully. ‘Carole Beauchamp will be looking after us and we’ll be too busy to get into trouble.’ But there was no way any of the parents would let five kids their age travel to the States without an adult and, for lots of reasons, Nancy was the best person for the job. ‘Why?’ asked Katie. ‘It’s not like she’s a responsible adult. Clem is far more responsible than Nancy is.’

‘Nancy knows New York,’ said her mum. ‘And she needs to do a trip with Blade Air, now that her agency is handling their advertising. This is the perfect time for her to go.’ Katie’s hopes faded. ‘Also, Mrs Beauchamp thinks it would be good if Nancy went to some of the planning sessions with you kids. Parfitt’s is back with Mosquito Advertising, but Nancy knows the brand and has so much experience. It would be great if she was there to make the handover a smooth one. Drop it, Katie. Either Nancy goes to New York or you don’t.’

And that really was it. There was no point in arguing any further.

‘Well, I hope Nancy knows there’s no smoking on planes,’ said Katie. ‘It’s a long flight.’

Katie held her finger on the buzzer at the boys’ front gate for ten seconds. No answer. She was relieved. At least that meant Joel’s parents were at work. They were nice enough, but