I think that Gordon Ramsay is maybe one of the most entertaining people ever on television. And I would love to pretend to be Gordon Ramsay and walk into a restaurant uninvited and attempt to make them change their menu. It's just a personal fantasy of mine.
When executing advertising, it's best to think of yourself as an uninvited guest in the living room of a prospect who has the magical power to make you disappear instantly.
Going to a party uninvited always has been a negative action. It never has been acceptable. At the very least, it upsets kitchen preparations, parking arrangements, and even details such as space for hanging coats and depositing dripping umbrellas.
Prom culture is now painstakingly documented on sites such as Instagram and Facebook, exacerbating the angst of the uninvited.
Misery is, by her own nature, a passing phase of sorrow, one that does not linger uninvited. Her sojourns seem to be part of life's required curriculum, perhaps because Misery endows us with compassion and empathy.
[Gazelle places the blankets over the corpses, then opens the door to welcome Valentine with a glass of whisky]
Gazelle: Everything is clean.
Valentine: My kind of welcome.
[Valentine sips whisky before approaching Professor Arnold]
Valentine: No stomach for violence. I mean, literally. I see one drop of blood, that is
me, done. I'm like...
[simulating a vomiting motion]
Valentine: projectile. Listen, I'm so sorry you had to witness all this unpleasantness, due to our uninvited guest. But I promise you: By the time I find out who he works for, you and I will be the best of friends.
John Wick: [Answers the phone] Yes?
Hotel Manager: I apologize for calling you at this hour, but we have received a number of grievances from your floor concerning the noise.
John Wick: My apologies. I was dealing with an uninvited guest.
Hotel Manager: Have you need then of, say, a dinner reservation,
perhaps?
John Wick: Perhaps. I'll have to get back to you.