London Calling

Just seen some crackin' work over on Snatch's blog. A truly brilliant, brilliant agency. Every single piece of work just raises the bar even higher. Wow.

I bet it'd be great to work there. Maybe I should send 'em my portfolio..?

A Word From Our Leader

Hi there.

I'm Simian Gladtrees, Executive Creative Chairman of Snatch London, part of the WpPP/Bang network.

We're an awards ridden multi-dimensional brandvertising digi-plinarian and creative consultant consultancy.

Here at Snatch, we've always believed that effective advertising comes through communicating multi-platformed brand essences through a shifting lens of challengingly diverse network strategies. Only by scrutinsing the specific spectrum of our client's understanding can we commnicate the production of heavily tailored solution methods with the broadest possible pallette of synergies.

MyBook and FaceBlog have revolutionised the way that brands interfere with peoples lives. Advertising's no longer about speaking to consumers. It's about consuming the speaker through a whole range of transsubstantiated media gantries - mobile themed search-engines and wifi gestures; ambient networks and eugenics. In short: we need to feed the media pony.

Only by distressing the competition can we disquiet the market and successfully out-warp the future.

Simian Gladtrees ECC

Here's to the future.... The last one there's a bender!

R.I.P Irony

It was confirmed this morning that Irony, the loving friend of Jane Austen and godfather to postmodernism, has tragically died after a long battle with the advertising industry.

Irony first found fame whilst working in the theatre as a dramatic device, making acclaimed appearances in Sophocles' Oedipus The King (429 BC) and Shakespeare's Hamlet (1601). But it was Irony's innate and uncanny sense of timing that was to capture the public's imagination.

By the 18th and 19th century, Irony had become the darling of Western literature. But after a string of appearances in the light romantic comedies of Jane Austen, he found it increasingly difficult to be taken seriously. His career faultered and he began drinking heavily.

Despite this nosedive, Irony's reputation for innate truth through disparity of meaning nevertheless made him a natural choice for use in satire. A new generation of artists quickly made Irony their own and work came flooding in: novels, paintings, films, music and theatre, all wanted to collaborate with him. This was a new lease of life, and in the early 80's Irony was approached by the advertising industry to lend a touch of humour to their campaigns.

Whilst many of these collaborations were successful, Irony was increasingly hampered by the quality of the material he was asked to perform. His health and credibilty deteriorated and the 90's brought a string of health scares after singer Alanis Morrisette famously confused him with bad luck - a blow he never fully recovered from. Friends became concerned recently when he appeared as B.A Baracus in two separate TV campaigns simultaneously.

Irony is reported to have died peacefully at his home in Florida after Fallon London remixed their Cadbury's "Gorilla" ad with Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of The Heart - a song that was never really that funny in the first place.

Splib

I couldn't be bothered thinking of a title for this post, so I just made one up, ok? Good.

Right, I just wanted to say a few words about this man:

His name is Robert Hughes, and he's a full-time art critic and part-time hero of mine (I have other heroes unfortunately, so I had to cut his hours).

I first discovered Robert Hughes when I was a young A-Level art twat, and read his book, The Shock Of The New, which remains the definitive history and handbook to modern art. Hughes' formidable intellect and wit made a big impression on me, and I subsequently devoured his book American Visions and was glued to his TV series Beyond The Fatal Shore, a scathing but poignant history of his native Australia. Nowadays he looks like a completely fucked Albert Finney and I imagine he wreaks of port. But don't let that curmudgeonly scowl fool you. No, Robert Hughes is one of the coolest people on the planet in fact. He once caught the clap off Jimi Hendrix (via his wife I might add) and quipped that his VD lasted longer than Jimi's career.

Anyway, Hughes was on TV last night for the first time in ages, condemning the current art market and the likes of that disgusting Damien Hirst auction. Needless to say it was fucking brilliant, so if you get chance, go and watch it again on the C4 website gubbins.

So there you go. Bob Hughes. Legend.

Got it?

A Holey Man

Agree/disagree/discuss.

Things On My Desk

No. 1: Hitler in love.

Reasons To Be Cheerful

I'm in a right mood today. Luckily I can leave the Prozac on the shelf with the nooses, booze and pornography though. I've got a bit of Frank Zappa to cheer me up instead.

Ah, yes. Uncle Frank. He might be unfashionable, but he didn't care and neither do I. Here's a live version of Montana - everything you'll ever need in a song: daft lyrics, impossibly complicted music and a man called Napoleon Murphy-Brock on saxophone (which has to be the best rockstar name ever.) Check out the impossible vocal lines after the guitar solo.

Why No One Reads My Blog

This 'ere is Scamp's blog - the most popular advertising blog in the whole flippin world nearly. If your into ads and shit, it's where to hang out. It's got advice, opinions, insights. It's essential.

Oh, and it's completely biased towards above the line work. So if your precious enough to give a fuck about TV commercials and have cinematic pretentions, get your Michel Gondry loving ass over to Scamp's asap and join any number of febrile debates about greatest ever ads, directors and that kinda stuff. Personally, I didn't realise that that many people still cared about TV commericals, but that's obviously where I've been going wrong. I mean, I thought we were all meant to be new media digi-shit and anything in between. But no, received opinion is that big dumb TV ads are still the pinnacle of a creative's career.

But what the fuck do I know? Who am I again? Wake up and smell the Cadbury gorilla, John. Writing!? What dya think this is, the 1930's? Duh! No one fucking reads anything any more, mate. Has no one ever told you "we're visual beings*". People see petrol swirling on top of a puddle and think it's the telly these days. If you can't look at it or put your cock in it, no one's interested.

Fucking words, eh? Pah! You should be ashamed of yourself boy. Go and sit in the corner and wait for Scamp to track your link back and bollock you or something.

* Note to planners: this is known as "scopophila" - the love of looking. Put that in your Malcolm fucking Gladwell and smoke it.

A Helping Hand(job)

Bang. Bang. Bang. Boom. It's the sound of young creatives smashing their heads against the doors of the industry and blowing their brains out in frustration because everyone, everywhere wants a job in the creative industries. Well, everywhere except for London that is.

London, you say? Exactly. It's that tiny cultural wasteland near some water just after Birmingham that makes Sunderland look like the Vatican. Nothing good ever comes out of it - there's no industry or money there. It's like Zimbabwe. I mean, if your train broke down in London you'd be fucking furious, right. There's no galleries or bookshops, music or museums, restaurants or theatres. It's a bog. Or at least it was. Just look at this in Brand Republic this morning:

"LONDON [it's in capitals cos you might'nt have heard of it]- Golden Square in Soho yesterday hosted hundreds of school children from around London as culture secretary Andy Burnham [must be good for an MP to go to all that way] and M&C Saatchi founder Maurice Saatchi launched an IPA initiative to encourage a wider range of people into the advertising and creative industries. [Blimey.]

"More than 200 pupils from secondary schools across London [now that's diversity!] were invited to spend the day inside M&C Saatchi and the various creative sector businesses around Golden Square, including Absolute Radio, Clear Channel and Paramount Pictures."

Well, fuck me. That's just what London's been crying out for isn't it: more people interested in twatty media jobs. Genius. I mean, if shithole London's famous for anything it's its lack of middle-class arts based job opportunities. But this "creativity awareness" initiative for the most unsophisticated place on Earth is a blinder. Surely Britain hasn't seen such philanthropy since they abolished slavery. Whatever next - higher wages for beautiful women?

Thanks Maurice Saatchi. Sounds like London might finally catch up with the rest of us, eh.

ABOVE: Jonanthan King lookalike Maurice Saatchi invited 200 school children into his office.

Vote Now!

Poll's are quite popular on blogs aren't they. A nice bit of the old "user generated content" goes a long way, and I've never done one yet. So...

Should Kelly Brook have shown her tits on the new Sky Plus commercial instead of just hopelessly pretending to have an opinion about it? (If you haven't seen it, Kell's little off-the-cuff "I like Sky by me age 4..." vox-pop is about as casual as gay rape. Oh, and it's as horrible to watch too).

So. Yes or no? You decide!

Email usercontentalloverkellybrook@blogspot.com

Answers on a soiled postcard to "I Like Tits, Blogger.com, The Internet".

Meet The Brands

Aww, brands, eh. They're like people aren't they. Some of 'em are your mates, but most of them are scum. Like university freshers, they all reckon their different, but they all talk the same (yawn) pretentious bollocks as each other.

Advertising planners get all moist about brand "narratives" and "stories" - about a brand having a past and a future - a personality that can be drawn and expanded upon. That way, when a brand finally corners you at a party or gets stuck in a lift with you, it actually has something to say for itself. Trouble is though, most brands are shit raconteurs.

Here's a quick test: Imagine ITV's "An Audience With... Sir. Peter Ustinov" but instead of Peter Ustinov, replace him with Brand X. Then ask yourself if you think Brand X will effortlessly charm and dazzle its assembled celebrity audience, or if you think it'll bore them to death with a shit anecdote about a half-price sale?

Tone of voice is one thing, but if your brand story's told by a complete wanker it doesn't matter what they say. I keep having nightmares about being trapped in a lift with the new Muller commerical; listening to a deranged, psychotically happy mother burbling on and on about her child's health. That's just fucking weird, man.

Random Sketch

I dunno, maybe Greenpeace could use this or something...

[Two teenage girls on the phone. Split screen]

- Hello?
- Hi babes. It's me.
- Hey you.
- Listen. Just a quick one. Just wondered if you were coming to The Precinct tonight? Mark's gonna be there. And he's bringing his mate... the sack of coal.
- Oh my god! The sack of coal!? He's gorgeous.
- I know. And apparently his mate said he really likes you.
- You're kidding!? No way. A sack of coal doesn't fancy me..?
- Why not?
- Oh god he's so fucking lush though.
- I know . Don't tell Debbie though.
- Why not?
- Well, cos she's been after a sack of coal for -like- ages.
- Debbie's a fucking slag. She'd never go out with a a sack of coal!
- So you coming out then?
- Fuck yeah. Oh, god what should I wear though?
- Anything as long as it's not white.
- Yeah, you're right. He's meant to be a right dirty bastard.

The Howling Fantods

Ha ha ho he ha!

So yesterday we established that humour doesn't belong in advertising. But if it did it might look a little bit like this...

Fan's of David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest might recognise these automatically. (No? You mean I have to explain!? Oh, for fucksake...) A selection of ads put together by Wallace's fans, based/derived on/from his novel. If you haven't read Infinite Jest, then do so immediately you philistine fuck! Commercials play a massive part of it - for example much of the action takes place in November during the "Year Of The Depend Adult Undergarment".

Right. That's enough levity. Get back to your work. You can put Goldfrapp on for the clients but no fucking smiling, ok.

Public Service Information

For those of you too busy to read CERN's risk assessment of the Large Hadron Collider, try this useful and informative website.

Does Humour Belong In Advertising?

Well? Does it? Hm? Does it?

No, 'course it bloody doesn't. Advertising's about making as much money for your client as possible. It is a grave and sombre matter indeed. Terminal, in fact. Which explains why many agencies' premises have the look and feel of a children's ward; decorated with bright, friendly colours and soft, tactile furniture. We put up posters, and play our favourite music; we have toys and teddies at our desks to comfort us. And if there isn't a PS3 or sandpit in the agency there's almost certainly a football table. (We'll all be coming to work in our dressing gowns soon). And this is as much to keep us calm and comfortable as it is the clients. You think when people visit they want to see you anxious and distressed? No! They want to see you playing Halo 3 with the Creative Director.

- Will I be going home soon? I miss my friends.

- Oh, soon enough little Johnny. Soon enough. Just as soon as that artwork's healed.

So. The next time you see a Winnie The Pooh painted on the inside of a window, don't think "paediatric hospital", think "creative agency".

ABOVE: Agency life. Creatives and acount handlers working together.

BELOW: Crisis meeting between a client and creative director.

Look Whose Fat And In Court

Failed rockstar and self-loathing drunken cunt, Barry Belm, 42, pleaded guilty to assault at Preston Crown Court yesterday.

Mr. Justice Yes said something like "Whilst I have not entirely ruled out a custodial sentence, it is likely Mr. Belm will spend much of the winter scraping the piss off public toilets with a razorblade and collecting frozen dogshit. Additionally, a stiff fine will doubtless encumber his family's Christmas this year- unless of course they all ask Santa to bring them some bits of litter and cold turds," he quipped.

Sentencing was adjourned until October, during which time Mr. Belm intends to write a very embarrassing song about his day in court, and dry fuck his weak-chinned hunchback (fish)wife a couple of times. In turn, Mrs. Belm intends to bore their parochial auto-peasant friends to death by talking about the injustice of it all, or until such time as the demons are finally beaten out of her cunt with a special stick.

Married To A Pornstar

- Hello darling.
- Hello darling.
- How's your day?
- I can barely walk.
- No? Oh, dear darling.
- (sigh) It's been non-stop cocks. All day.
- Glass of wine?
- Oh no thanks. I've been on fluids all day...
- Ah.
- What's for dinner?
- Sausages?
- I think I'll just have a bath. My arse feels like train's been through it.

Fwd: wasp and hornet nests

I found this is in my Inbox this morning. Go figure...

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: alastair mackie <mackiealastair@hotmail.com>
Date: Sun, Sep 7, 2008 at 7:55 PM
Subject: wasp and hornet nests
To:

Dear Beekeepers,

I hope that you won't mind me contacting you out of the blue. I am an artist working in London, I come from a farm in Cornwall where we keep bees. I have recently made a piece of work out of paper collected from a wasp nest (see image attached). I have a solo show coming up in January next year and am working on a large scale wasp / hornet wood pulp project. Over the last twelve months I have collected approximately two hundred nests (all abandoned during the winter period).I am absolutely desperate to get hold of as much more material and as soon as possible and will be very happy to pay in order to do so.I understand that bee keepers are sometimes asked to deal with wasp and hornet nests. If you think that you can help me please do get in touch, or please do forward this on to anyone else.

Best regards - Alastair Mackie

(+44) 7818 0734XX
http://www.alastairmackie.com/
http://www.allvisualarts.org/

Lesbian Sunrise

Ever wanted to write your own blog-post but don't have your own blog to write it on? Well here's the answer you've been looking for.

Every week I'll be posting a title for you would-be blogsods to respond to. It's easy. Just read the title, get a computer keyboard and then use all of your imagination. That's right - all of it! Squeeze your imagination like a lemon over the pancake of my title.

So here we go. And your title is... "Lesbian Sunrise".

To the fore(skin)

From The Drum's website this afternoon: a sneak preview of some "slightly daring" work from TBWA/Manchester...

'Robert Harwood-Matthews, CEO at TBWA\Manchester, commented; “Within a hugely competitive market, the creative had to be stunningly different, slightly daring and go against existing communication conventions to show how unique Skinbliss is. Collaborating with a fashion photographer to produce the campaign ensured it would give Imperial Leather an exclusive look and enable it to appeal to a new audience.”'

I think it's safe to say that hiring the fashion photographer -as opposed to a forensic or radiographer -was a wise (though slightly daring) move. And photographing an actual woman who has skin too -well... Stunningly different, indeed.

Advertising, eh. Where do they get these ka-ray-zee ideas from?