Weep Show - Will marketers try to mimic the Olympic tearjerkers?

Once, as a small boy, I was stung in the forehead by a wasp as big as a gorilla fist. We were at the seaside at the time and, in shock, I then stumbled backwards into the water where a jellyfish as big as a dinosaur fist stung me brutally across both shins.

Despite this savage double attack from two fearsome predators, your hero did not shed a single tear.

I only bring this up to help put into the context the puddle of emotional mush I have become during these past few Olympic weeks.

I have already confessed in a previous blog that I had been entirely and unequivocally won over by the Olympic spirit. What I am now admitting to is the fact that for much of the games my lip has been a near permanent state of tremble.

Now, despite what you may have assumed, I am something of a hard nut. But the BBC obsession with wringing ever last drop of emotion out of these games has frequently left me furtively dabbing away the moisture from my eyes while mumbling something unconvincing about the pollen count.

An endless stream of video montages in which a tearful Chris Hoy, a weepy Victoria Pendleton and a sobbing Jess Ennis pour their great big British hearts out has opened the teary floodgates on a nation traditionally so proud of its stoicism.

The seemingly omnipresent Steve Redgrave darting around London, administering his powerful man-hugs to winners and losers alike only fuelled the bonfire of blubbery.

What remains to be seen is whether this new found outpouring of emotion will endure like a British cyclist, or fizzle out like a British swimmer.

Will marketing campaigns and messages aim firmly for the lump in the throat? Will the jerking of tears supplant the raising of smiles, prodding of conscience and feeding of thoughts as the most potent trick up the marketer’s sleeve?

With thoroughly sodden handkerchief in hand, I shall watch with great interest.

And now, to celebrate the successful completion of this blog entry I intend to drape myself in the Union Jack, point poignantly into the sky and utterly crumble just three notes into the national anthem. Come and get me Redgrave, I’m ready for my man-hug.

Andrew Boulton is a hard-as-nails copywriter at the Together Agency