There seems to be a lot of talk in the trade press recently about 'neuromarketing'. And there was an interesting piece 'advertising is a poison' in The Guardian last week. George Monbiot makes some good points in the article. At W+K we don't tend to think of our work as a 'battering ram'  of 'pervasiveness and repetition'; the people behind the likes of Go Compare may well have a different point of view.

But is advertising the cause of a society that celebrates image, power and status, or is it a symptom of this society? People have aspired to these values since they were jealous of the neanderthal with a better cave. The societies where the state has tried to enforce the suppression of these aspirations – hello, Stalin's Russia, North Korea – have in the main been pretty miserable places. It isn't just advertising that makes humans want a bigger house and a new car.

Since the publication of Hidden Persuaders in the 1950s, academics have been suggesting that advertising has the power to manipulate the subconscious. But it's pretty rare that an agency team will have a conversation with clients about neurobiology, or how our message will be processed by the prefrontal cortex of our audience, or how we can conceal some sort of secret mind-control message in an ad. It's just not that scientific or simple. We wouldn't deny that advertising has the power to manipulate the unconscious mind. But pundits overestimate our ability to control or predict how we're doing it.

Meanwhile, it's ironic that Monbiot suggests advertising is to blame for low savings rates by UK families when at the bottom of the article there is an ad for… Barclays Investments.

In Marketing magazine this week, Dr AK Pradeep 'one of the world's leading neuromarketing experts' says, "One of my clients trying to sell milk experimented with various imagery – farms, grass, hay, barns farmers…The one that always wins out is cows. Somehow the source of a product is more evocative in the deep subconscious than anything else. This is something we've learned through neuromarketing."

So, what about cats with thumbs, as featured in our highly successful campaign for Cravendale milk then?

Our view: the difficulty with showing cows or talking about the other familiar benefits  listed above by Dr Pradeep is that it gives the audience immediate permission to ignore you because they assume you're telling them what they already know. But something dissonant and unexpected like a polydactyl cat slaps you across the face (not literally, we don't yet have the technology to make that possible) and makes you pay attention in a way you wouldn't have done otherwise for such a functional product. An 8% sales increase suggests that this approach has merits.

Of course, perhaps if we had done a campaign featuring cows with thumbs, we would have sold even more milk.

The Guardian's 'Hard Sell' takes on our Cravendale campaign. I think they like it. But I'm not sure.

Traditionally, adverts are meant to make you want to buy the product they're advertising. They're supposed to be aspirational, or funny, or memorable, or just feature a long, drawn-out romance between a couple that couldn't have kept their love alive or overcome the bumps in the romance road without the help of a company that offers both telephone and internet services. But not since the 90s, when alcopop Metz introduced the dream-haunting Judderman (don't YouTube it before bed) has a TV advert made me feel so uncomfortable as the Cravendale Cats With Thumbs.

The 41 seconds of terror begin deceptively quietly, when the question is posed: "Why do cats always stare when you're pouring milk"? Apparently it's because they're plotting. They know it's only a matter of time until they grow thumbs (the crunchy squelchy sound of a sprouting cat thumb will haunt you at 4.35am, when you wake up sweating and shaking as your own moggy scratches at the door). Cravendale wants us to know that when cats have opposable digits, they'll be reading books (on WAR – SIGNIFICANT!!!), sewing, and forming 1960s West Side Story-style gangs, only with worse singing voices. Cats can already see things we can't; what makes you think forming an army to reclaim the world's milk isn't the next step? The irony, of course, is that adult cats are lactose intolerant and shouldn't drink milk. Which means that any act of war over dairy products is just spiteful. The ad closes with the futile words "Jog on, kitty." But it's no use. It's a stark warning of a worrying future when felines rule the planet and humans are left with the worst thing of all: soy milk.