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God, I despise jingles.  Don't you?  Not so much ear worms as ear maggots.  Wriggly little things that, if you hear them enough times, lay eggs in your ears which hatch into grotesque squirming creatures before transforming into buzzing beasts of pestilence.  From Terry's Carpets (Baggy Trousers) to Just One Cornetto (O Sole Mio), these irritating bursts of sound are the derivative accomplishments of those who decided it was simpler to recycle worn phrases and out-dated themes than invent.  After all, why spend time creating when what consumers really crave is the familiar, re-parcelled using midi and disgustingly cheery voice overs to convince us to give away our money in return for...something. 
I blame jingles for the 2006 remake of The Poseidon Adventure and the 2003 version of The Italian Job.  I blame them for Lindsay Lohan's Herbie and Nicholas Cage's Wicker Man.  Jingles are to blame for Shane Ritchie's Minder and the 2008 series of Knight Rider which followed the story we'd all been waiting for, that of Michael Knight's estranged son.  Sigh.
Jingle writers are responsible for every lame arse rhyme, every cliché-ridden pop song, and all the Saturday night television you have ever endured.  The next time you feel an over-whelming nausea or a headache that won't go away remember my words.  There's a chance it could be a serious medical condition.  Much more likely is that you've been exposed to a jingle.  Feel free to eradicate the infection at source.

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