Ever since I read the Evening Standard piece about TfL banning an advert for a theatre production, I’ve been absolutely raging. Not simmering. Not merely irritated. Full rolling boil.

Here’s the tea: TfL has banned an advert across its network — platforms, escalators, tunnels, bus stops — because it shows a married couple standing on top of a wedding cake. Yes. A wedding cake. Meanwhile, scantily clad fast-fashion ads, lovingly stitched together by underpaid workers and destined for landfill by next Tuesday? Totally fine. Crack on.

The whole thing is so ludicrous it actually made it into Mayor’s Question Time at City Hall.

Right. So according to TfL, an advert showing a wedding cake — that famously impulsive, high-street grab-and-go snack (??) — constitutes a dire risk to childhood obesity. Of course. It’s the cake that’s dangerous. Not, for example, these wholesome, lettuce-based icons of virtue:

Look, I actually think Sadiq Khan is a smart, hard-working guy. You don’t go from barrister to Mayor of London without a functioning braincell. And yet — if one were to tap “wedding cake calories” into Google — one would quickly discover that a slice is usually around 200kcals. It’s a bit of sponge, some buttercream, and often served after a full dinner.

A quarter pounder, meanwhile, casually clocks 507kcals… and can be obtained inside several TfL stations, mere metres from the Very Offensive Wedding Cake Poster.

Sadiq must know this. He’s not daft. Which leaves one explanation: he hates wedding cake. And I can only assume that’s because he’s only ever been served bad wedding cake or, worse, his own wasn’t great. In which case, I’ll happily #gift him a proper one for his vow renewal. No tag required. Just civic duty.

Councillor Emma Hall asked whether it was really necessary to ban the ad, given the reported £25,000 spend on creating and reproducing the poster. Sadiq responded: “If this particular theatre decided to print the adverts before they’d got confirmation… then that’s an issue for them.”

Which is a… fascinating interpretation of the cost. As if the £25,000 was simply the printing bill, and not the sum total of: photographer, studio, actors, hair, makeup, stylists, graphic designers, art direction, production, logistics, and — crucially — the cake. All of which happen long before a single poster meets a tube wall.

But here’s the thing. After I cooled down, I started to wonder if the theatre’s marketing team might actually be geniuses. Politicians are the perfect pantomime villain. Cake is universally loved. If you deliberately create an advert that flirts with TfL’s arbitrary rules, you might just get the golden ticket of PR: righteous public outrage on your behalf, and wall-to-wall media coverage — all for free.

If that was their plan, it worked spectacularly.

And yes, now I want cake. Specifically wedding cake. Possibly delivered straight to my door because I live in London, not a fairy tale forest — thank goodness we offer cake delivery across London. Or I could pop down to McDonald’s next to the tube for a slice of wedding cake. Oh wait.

Love,
Reshmi xoxo