1.

- Take one shitty day at work.
- Add a pointless argument with your significant other.
- Don’t forget to slam the door!
- Run until all is forgiven.

2.

- Leave LCD Soundsystem unplayed for 2–3 years.
- Return to a city, whichever you prefer, that you left, and long for.
- Run to the river. (Careful here — timing is everything.)
- Hit the riverbank for the really noisy bit of ‘All My Friends’.
- Turn the pace up a touch.
- Bake in the winter sun.

3.

- Begin by dragging your broken body out of bed.
- Leave it to sit for 10 minutes, just there, on the side.
- Separate from humanity, and chill to the bone.
- Slowly mix in movement, air, distance.
- Realize you will be back in bed before the city wakes.
- Know that, for now, it is yours.

4.

- Take one social media addiction.
- Add political anxiety and a looming sense of foreboding (can be substituted for a pinch of despair depending on the day).
- Run until all you can remember is that you are a human being with legs who can run.

(Top tip: this one is extra delicious if you can throw in some kind of epic national monument. We like the Statue of Liberty, but don’t be afraid to experiment.)

5.

- Take one hour of Run The Jewels, 1–3. (Kanye and Kendrick also work well here, according to taste).
- Beat rhythmically. You don’t want to overdo it.
- Slowly, steadily, move legs up the Brooklyn Bridge. The more tourists you throw in at this point, the better it’ll taste on the other side.
- Meanwhile, prepare ’Style’ by Taylor Swift.
- Run down. Press play.

6.

- Run until your ingredients separate.
- Bones, skin, heart, lungs, brain and blood.
- Run until you are cells.
- Run until you forget you are yourself.

Here is New Dad. Here are his children.

New Dad is throwing a child into the air. They are bathed in the late afternoon sun. A wistful musical soundtrack indicates the fleeting nature of childhood.

For the first time, our ads are showing Dad, not Mom. Our research suggests that ‘masculinity is undergoing a global realignment’. We do not know what ‘global realignment’ means, but the result is that Dad has come home.

Dad is the new mom. Mom is so over. Whatever, Mom.

Look! New Dad is teaching his daughter how to ride a bike. See him clap as she succeeds. The child will grow and move on, but neither of them will forget this moment. It is laden with meaning. The music has made this clear.

Old Dad was simple. He could not change a diaper. He cheered for the game. He loved beer so much. We miss Old Dad, but beer is also undergoing a realignment. Old Dad is gone.

New Dad is complex. His facial hair tells us so. He is strong, but also patient and caring. He shows this by throwing his kids into the air. See him throw. Up and down. Run and catch. The child’s blond hair catches the light. Your Dad never did this. New Dad is the dad you always wanted. New Dad is the Dad you never had.

Now Dad is cooking for the children! It is spaghetti — always spaghetti. The children eat with delight. They make spaghetti moustaches together. The spaghetti moustache is powerful. It is a symbol of the child inside all of us.

Later on, New Dad will carry the children upstairs to bed. Behind him, the ghost of Old Dad will flicker in the TV light of a football game. For now, there is nothing in between.

Here is the grooming product his wife will buy. Here is New Dad.

Here are millennials. They are in a car. They are carefree. They drive wherever the wind takes them, because they are millennials. One of them has a guitar. They may be in a band, because they are millennials, and creativity is important to them. It is unclear how they have managed to afford this car. Millennials do not buy cars. They just go on road trips. They have beards, although our research suggests that having a beard may soon no longer be a millennial thing to do. We’ll get back to you.

The band in the car has made a stop. They have stopped to dance on a beach. This is what millennials do. They seek out ‘immersive experiences’. They prefer these experiences to material things like cars, so they dance on beaches, and hold each other with windswept hair. They are having the best night of their lives. They are always having the best night of their lives. They are having the best night of their lives on Instagram. Here is a shot of them taking a selfie, to capture the best night of their lives. Selfies are relevant.

The millennials are back in the car. They are playing the guitar in the car, because they do not conform to your idea of appropriate behavior. They branch out. They experiment. They are always in beta. We do not know what this means.

Look! The band of millennials is performing a concert to more millennials. They are having more fun than you have ever had. They are having more fun than you thought humanly possible. Surely nobody has ever had this much fun. The sun sets as they perform, but their friendships remain strong. This is also a millennial thing. They have invented a friendship that looks casual, but will endure forever. Your friendships are not the same. They will not last.

Here is the name of the band and the song that you hear. You will never hear this band again. You will never hear this song again. It will be gone, because they are no longer relevant. Millennials have told us so.

Here is the car they cannot afford. Here are millennials.