First published in Marketing magazine 19 April 2006

When I was a young mother, I was determined that my children would grow up with insides as pure as the driven snow. I was before my time. It took Jamie Oliver another ten years to work it out for himself, and he'll probably get a knighthood. As they grew into unruly toddlers, sweets, chocolates, E numbers, fizzy drinks and fast food were all banned. I had visions of making my own muesli, getting up early to bake wholegrain bread, and using vegetables grown by nuns in Norfolk.

Over time the effects of pure exhaustion, doting grandparents, their own pocket money and the relentless smile of Ronald McDonald finally wore me down. Now they're teenagers, I've given up on arguments about eating fruit and try and preserve their insides by carping on about the physiological effects of Ecstacy instead. Not quite the E number I had in mind.

One thing I haven't given up on though, is to insist that at some point in the week we sit down together as a family. Preferably over a meal. I've tried valiantly, but the competing social and sporting calendars of teenagers makes this difficult too. However I've found the solution, and something I feel the marketing director responsible, should be using right up there in the promotional material: Families that stay together watch Footballers' Wives together.

A new series began last week, with the first episode reassuringly on form, flashing a man's bottom within ten minutes of the title sequence. I know there's plenty of huffing and puffing on marital beds, but it's real family viewing. It's the only programme I know where two hormonal teenagers and two washed up middle-aged parents sit down and watch together. We laugh together too at the pure absurdity of it all. Surely this is a unique selling point.

For those of you who haven't seen it, it's best described as a politcally, sexually and racially inclusive programme, but probably not on purpose. A sort of Dallas for the new century with knobs on (literally). And as far as target audiences go, it ticks a variety of boxes with a cast of chain-smoking characters with accents from London to Merseyside, and a diverse range of sexual preferences to match. Although I don't think there's been a footballer that's had a sex change yet in the series, but that's not surprising as women themselves couldn't be players in the programme, instead they get through 20 a day, and I'm not talking cigarettes.

Teenagers empathise with Footballers' Wives. They think they will be rich and famous one day, even if by marriage, and they appreciate the not-so-subtle ironies. As for us, after a long slog selling marketing concepts with cultivated enthusiasm all day, it's a liberating suspension of the 9 to 5 (well 8 to 8 actually). It has no roots in reality whatsoever. It's so bad it's brilliant. So there you have it; a parallel universe and a masterpiece of televisual fluff.

If you need to place a product for the whole family, or you have a brief to advertise an expensive brand with teenage appeal, that parents are going to buy for them, you'd do worse than advertising around Footballers' Wives. Check your marketing budget immediately.

© Sue Nelson 2006