When I was a little boy, I’d put half-a-crown away each week so that by Christmas I had £5 saved up to buy Christmas presents.

Of course, Mum’s was always the most important present (working class boys love their mums).

Like most working-class mums, she’d had a hard life looking after us all, so I liked to save up so at Christmas I could buy her something nice, something she couldn’t afford to buy herself.

Of course, being working class, these weren’t things like clothes or perfume, these were things to make her life a bit easier.

I remember, everyday she had to get a great big heavy, old-fashgioned hoover out to clean up any little messes or spills on the carpet.

So I got my money together and bought her a carpet-sweeper, which was lighter and easier, and much less effort.

She loved it to bits.

Later on, when I got a job, I bought her a ‘stereogram’ – a wooden cabinet that was a record-player and radio, all-in-one.

She’d never had one before, and again she loved it.

I tried to get the most I could for whatever money I had and it usually worked out well.

Then, when I got into advertising, I entered a new world with a new sort of people.

Middle class, cultured people with sophisticated tastes.

Gradually I learned that things like carpet-sweepers and stereograms were not considered fit for presents, they were too ordinary, too utilitarian.

And getting the most for your money was also considered crass, quality came before quantity.

The people in advertising were a new world to me, I didn’t realise it at the time but I was being taught to think middle class.

Someone persuaded me that I was patronising Mum with the presents I bought her, they said I should buy her something of genuine quality instead.

So at Christmas I went to the Wedgewood showrooms in the West End.

Wedgewood had been making fine china for 300 years, by appointment to Kings and Queens.

I bought Mum the best, most expensive Wedgewood vase I could afford, and at Christmas I gave it to her.

When she unwrapped it she pretended to like it, but I could tell she was confused.

She placed it on her sideboard next to an almost identical plastic vase.

The plastic one looked exactly like the genuine Wedgewood one, pale blue with a white relief design round it, Mum said “They’ll make a nice pair”.

The difference was her plastic vase had come free with her washing powder.

I could see that, to Mum, the Wedgewood one didn’t make any sense because she didn’t live in that world.

The posh world of quality over quantity.

And that was an eye-opener for me, that England is actually two countries: the working class and the middle class.

Fast-forward to today and it’s easy to see where that leaves us.

The middle class (the advertising world) can’t believe that the whole country isn’t like them, that everyone doesn’t want what they want.

The middle class are educated and so their opinion must be the valid one.

The corollary of this is that the standard by which all advertising is judged is Cannes.

This is an awards scheme where a lot of the work entered isn’t even English, and nor are a lot of the people judging it.

So English isn’t everyone’s language.

No problem with that, except what wins is naturally beautiful visuals, not jokes based on language or local humour.

The commercials that win are mini art films, beautifully shot with stylish visuals.

Commercials with jokes based on working class or local language stand no chance.

It isn’t that one way is right and the other wrong, but when advertising was at its best it used to talk to both sets of people, because there are two sets of consumers in the UK.

But we don’t do that anymore, we talk only to international sophisticated ad-people like ourselves, and we’re all middle class.

Maybe that’s why no one enjoys the advertising we produce anymore.

Half the country is ignoring the other half.