Incredible Facts!

Did you know..?

Gary Barlow's real name is "Gary That". After naming his band Take That, he changed his own name to Barlow to make sure he didn't look like a totally egotistical plonker.

Now that's incredible!

Oh, great! The Drum have asked people who work in advertising to write blogs for them. I wonder what they'll say..?

This week's Drum guest blog comes from Peter Popshield, executive creative chairman and foundling partner of Hubr!S Brand Ensemble.

Well, what can I say that I haven't already said before. I'm honoured The Drum has asked me to write for them. Who'd've thought that I'd have anything interesting to say to anybody other than myself. I certainly wouldn't have done. In fact, I asked myself that very question in the mirror this morning. I asked myself "What will I say in The Drum this week?" But I was unable to find an answer. So instead I looked at myself again, and just tried to imagine what I'd like to read myself saying. Then I started writing it down on my laptop, whilst lying in my own bed next to my wife, who incidentally also works at my agency with me. Anyway, I thought I'd start with a little bit about myself.

I've worked in this business now for what seems like forever to me, and every day I start my day in the same way - I think about my clients. I think about the relationship I have with them and what I can do for them. Then I make myself a nice cup of tea to bring me back down to earth. Some people think this business is bullshit. But it isn't. Which is why I always drink tea in my morning. To remind myself of the importance of my clients and the great work that I do for them. It's no secret that all the great people in history drank tea. Humble people like Gandhi drank tea. And let's face it, he also had a great brand. Which is what I tell my clients. I tell them that a great brand is like Gandhi, and a great advert is like a cup of tea. But more about me later...

I get into my agency around 8.15 in the morning, except for a Tuesday when arrive at 9.35 after my regular physiotherapy session. I injured myself some years ago in a relatively amusing way doing something vaguely related to my job, but I won't bore with my details. One of the things that sets my agency apart from other agencies is that we insist on knowing eachother's names, and using them whilst in work. I think in this increasingly crazy digtial sphere of ours, making a real connection with people is increasingly difficult. So addressing eachother as Peter (in my own case), or Andrew, or at the very least "mate" during the day reminds us of all of the challenges each of us face in communicating anything of any significance to anybody else these days. Which is exactly what I tell my clients - a great brand is like a name, and a great advert is like a mate. But enough about me...

I'm very lucky to still work with one or two of my old mates. Which is another thing that sets my agency apart from other people's. Back in the 80s, Gaz and Phil were the best creative team this side of the Headrow. Which is exactly what I tell my clients. A great brand is like an old mate, and a great advert is like the 1980s. But I'll get on to that later...

At 10.15am my 22 year old designer (Steph) strides vivaciously into the kitchen to make tea for all of of us. She is beautiful and talented in a way that I no longer understand. As ever, I avert my gaze by casually flicking through the Sport, which i despise, and hope that I look open-minded rather than thick. But being around young people is one of the things that sets my agency apart from other people's. Which is exactly what I tell my clients...

At 10.55am the tension within my agency and my skull is unbearable. It's this pervaisive sense of failure and inadequacy that sets my agency apart from other people's. Which is exactly what I tell my clients and the police. A great brand is like a skull, and a great advert is unbearable...

At around 2.15pm Steph makes another round of teas for myself and my clients, who I mention Gandhi and history and great men to before I execute them in long succession. One of the things that's always set my agency apart from other people's is the silver Beretta and hessian sacking I've kept in my left-hand drawer for the last 4 and half years.

But enough about me.

The Best £10 I've Ever Spent

It's been a funny old weekend. After spending Friday night at a party with an old-lady style migrain and feeling like 75% dogshit, I needed some serious cheering up.

Lucky then I had tickets to watch Harold Pinter's The Caretaker at the Everyman in Liverpool the next day, cos -blimey O'Reilly- what could be more cheerful than the story of three mentally ill men trying to subjugate one another in a small room? Not much, right.

I've said here before it's not often I go to the theatre, and this particular production showed me exactly why that is: because most theatre will never be as good the play I watched on Saturday afternoon. As someone who'd only ever read Pinter's plays as a moody teenager, you HAVE to see them performed to understand just how fucking good they are - preferably by an amazing cast (inlcuding Jonathan Pryce), with a spectacular set, and some bloody reasonable ticket prices.

I think it's only on for another week though, so get your culture-fingers out you jaded scum and ponce on over to the Everyman for an unforgettable 2hours of the blackest comedy you'll ever see.

Happy days.

Channel 4 faces backlash over T4 "When Andi met... Nick"

Plebs and journalists shat themseveles this morning over news that flustering BNP fusspot, Nikolous De Griffin is to be publicly spoken to by black homosexual, Andi Peters, in a lightweight teenage lifestyle show after Hollyoaks this Sunday.

The elite white media went literally apeshit after preview tapes of Peters asking Griffin if he liked Kanye West or curries we're leaked to the press in what will doubtless become a string of spaz-fisted media gaffs. Channel 4's reputation for moronic shite-baiting is already under increased scrutiny after the Countdown letters spelt out "WOGGYWEES" last Tuesday afternoon.

Shilpa Shetty is said to have been "devastated" by the news.

Advertising Promotion

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INTERFACE with exclusive interviews with the men and women behind your favourite bits of the internet.

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Giving Thanks

Hi God, it's John here.

Just to say a big thanks that this absurd digital project's nearly finished. I'll be heading on back over to Satan though next week to find some proper work. Hope this is ok.

Satan, if you're listening, stick a fork in my backside as soon as you like. All this bland, evangelical shite's made my arse go numb.

What Are Friends For?

Recieved the following text message from a friend of mine over the weekend:

"I'm off to Stephen Gately's funeral today. Going to see if I can sneakily fuck the ass and mouth of his stinking Irish corpse before they nail the lid down and send him into a very Catholic hell for eternal correction."

Cheered me up anyway, between trying to read The Guardian and watching bloody X Factor.

Milk Marketing Board

Maggie Thatcher Milk Snatcher's about to get her arse kicked.

This is wonderful for at least three dozen different reasons.

I'd've given my entire calcium deficient skeleton to have written this.

Really Obvious Ideas for TV Shows # 973

TITLE: The XXX Factor

DESCRIPTION: Rude version of the popular pop-star talent show, The X Factor, aiming to find the nastiest up and coming (like a train!) hardcore adult performers.

HIGHLIGHTS: Judging the female soloists. Judging the groups. Boot Camp (just use your imagination). 18 year old girls saying stuff like "I want this more than anything!"

CELEBRITY JUDGES: Ben Dover, Ron Jeremy, Jenna Jamesen, Lorraine "Ooh, doesn't she look great!" Kelly.

Big News from The Drum's Friday PlodCast: "Postcard Showcases Fresh Creative For Man Selling Gas Oven"

The Drum's provincial correspondent Thierry Ennui

PRESTON, LANCASTERSHIRE: The Drum was dead lucky enough to be invited to the unveiling of a new campaign by Geoff Iddon - 57 year old truck driver from Penwortham, a throbbing capillery off the enlarged creative heart of Preston.

In a bold move, Iddon both wrote and art directed the campaign, which aims to sell a 6 year old Whirlpool 4 ring gas oven to a diverse array of audiences, including the notoriously difficult to crack male and female markets.

Iddon opened his mouth and told us: "£90 and it's yours. I just want it shifted". Media buying was kept in-house, with Geoff's wife Christine negotiating a number of deals with local newsagents. An initial push of one fortnight will see the campaign go live across Forbuoys on the hill and Singh's at the top of the road, with a wider strategy aligning with a potential run in Loot. Viral is being handled by Geoff's son Paul who'll be asking round work.

(Gay) Son of Surface Porn

Urgh god I love surface porn. Like, doing something tangible in real life is great. But doing it virtually on a screen is so fucking kinky. Like having a weird sub-dom relationship with an inanimate object - "look but don't touch... Oh, go on then... Ha, not really! I'm just a screen. Go on. Stroke me you pathetic bitch" etc.

Anyway, meet Surface Porn's spoilt laa-dee-dah step-son, Surface Erotica.

As if he weren't mucky enough already, here's David Hockney's iPhone "paintings". The slut.






More here.

Slightly Disconcerting...

...inadvertantly sinister, but very creative and all together lovely.

No, I'm not talking about me. (I'm just a plain old cunt).

I'm talking about this.

Social Not Working

I'm sure this is hilarious if you're 12 and thick as fuck. No wonder it's so popular.

What happens when advertising disappears up its own arse..?

... goes all the way through its guts, back out of its neck and starts sucking its self off?

Here's the answer. Juan Cabral's haunting masterpiece "2m 51sec Of Bloody Nothing with Sony's Name Stuck On At the End".

My favourite bit is the bit when - oh fuck it. I was bored after about 32sec.

Is it a film? Is it a viral? Is it even an ad?

Who gives a manky shite.

Advertising Feature

Hi, I'm Lorne Spicer. You may have seen me on the television, or heard my voice from across the living room.

If you're anything like me (ie. you are a "woman" of a "certain" age) you might not realise it but you've an increased risk of suffering from an empty vagina.

The Lorne Spicer "Gash-in-the-Attic" Femi-Bung has been specially developed to provide the most discreet female pleasure and comfort on the market/bootfair.

So if you're over the hill, and have a cavity to fill, just ask for "Gash-in-the-Attic". Available from: Boots, Wilkinsons, Dorothy Perkins and Halfords.

Lorne Spicer. THE name in affordable senior dildonics.

Sometimes My Mind Wanders

Just imagine if Jesus had been really, REALLY fat. Like, Jerry Springer fat. Fat enough to take up 3 seats on a plane. Fat enough to fuck up a bus.

Imagine his mum telling him to get that pie in him. You'll never grow up to the be the son of God if you don't finish that crust. Then imagine the Last Supper being like a child's birthday party, with fizzy pop and ice-cream and Big Fat Christ smashing cake into his chops with jam all down his chin.

Imagine the Romans calling in re-inforcements - 4, 8, 10, 12 of 'em, all heaving and straining to get the cross up. One of 'em does his back in, another one moans about getting chocolate on his nails... Then juuuust as they think he's up - CRUNCH! the cross breaks and big old blobby Jesus goes bouncing on to the floor...

What a palaver.