Sipping With the Big Boys

Yesterday, I found myself in the rare position of chatting to an industry colleague.

Suffice to say this was very shocking.

No one ever talks to me about anything these days.

Not even my sister.

So you can imagine how shocked I was when I learned that this person actually shared the same opinion as me.

I couldn’t believe it.

And to make matters worse, this person had reached that opinion entirely by them selves.

It was astonishing.

Seriously. There I was, sipping my coffee, and not two feet away from me was another human being, in broad daylight, and with no obvious mental impairment, brazenly agreeing with me.

Who in the hell did they think they were? Independently validating my deeply unpopular opinions like that. Some kind of amiable freak?

For a moment I felt ill. Sick to my rotten core.

But then something began to dawn on me.

Slowly –ever so slowly - at first, like a stifled yawn. 

And as the penny dropped, so did my jaw.

(Along with the quality of my metaphors).

Here in this ordinary café, on an ordinary morning, we had found a universal truth. A truth so apparent to us, yet so hidden from the wider industry.

“Why?” we asked each other. “Why is it so hard to find decent mid-weight copywriters at the moment?” There simply seemed to be none.

The waitress brought more coffee and we began to talk.

We’d agreed on our problem and now looked to each other for answers.

Opinions became theories, and theories became arguments.

Do junior writers just get bored and want to play elsewhere? 

Has freelance culture killed them off?

Or has the fluidity of disciplines in studios simply rendered them obsolete?

The answer it seemed was not to be found in this blogpost.

By turning a tedious anecdote about coffee into a mock existential noir, I had learned just one thing about copywriting.

It takes a senior to write this kind of shit.

Advice to Young Creatives

Uh oh.

Can't think of a title. It's been a while.

Welcome back.

And what better way to mark my return to blogging than by pouring tepid bile over that big, fat, sexless something-or-other of an industry we call Advertising, eh.

So let's go! For those of you of a literary bent (i.e. those who spend less time gawping at shapes and colours than the rest of us) "big and fat" is the theme of today's post. So write that down in your £15.99 Moleskine before your get distracted by a Twitter feed or a beautiful account manager. It's an important part of this module.

Thanks.

Whilst many of us creative types (ponces) will have had the displeasure of working in vast, constipated network agencies, on sprawling global accounts managed by inexperienced young women who diet a lot, it's always heartening to see lithe young agencies picking up high profile jobs from lithe young clients. I'm fantasising about that now, in fact. Watching their delicate, young bodies dancing and frotting together in some blissful creative harmony. In a meadow perhaps... With lots of sunshine... And strawberries for eyes...

See, I told you it was a fantasy. Not least because that doesn't ever happen like that. At all. But as a bitter old shit, I like to imagine it does, right. Because it gives me hope that we're not all doomed to be whores and parasites, clinging to the ankles of our flabby clients, like abused orphans. So when I saw The (very, very good) Neighbourhood had picked up the (arguably very, very good) food pornographer Heston Blumenthal as a client, my tiny mind reeled once again with the thought of happy creative people skipping in fields, as naked and free as the day they were born.

And here's the result of their frolics.

Looks beautiful don't it. Fedoras off to everyone involved, I have to say.

But ask yourself this: when half the world is starving, could you skip naked through a (metaphorical) field with a man who makes iced-cream using liquid nitrogen?

Or to put it another way, would you be satisfied servicing the profligate whims of the world's most self-indulgent man?

'Course you could you fat ducks.

Twistlemoe & Brine

Seasonal greetings.

It's been a while hasn't it blah blah blah. How's your mother? We must get together for a drink soon.

Anyway, I've just done this for the lovely people over at Music.

I hope you enjoy it. With a mince pie, or a glass of sherry.

Meantime, may Santa block all your chimneys with joy.

xx

The Future of Advertising

(That bitter enough for you all?)

Direct Marketing for Pheasants

Tapping into new markets is a ball ache for any brand. But with Britain's pheasant population on the increase, more and more businesses are seeing these beautiful, playful wild birds, not only as a target for their rifles, but also for their offline marketing activities.

PHEASANT FACTS:

-Pheasants have 60% more disposable income than grouse, partridge and ducks... put together!

-Pheasants are key influencers in many areas including flapping, fighting and flying into greenhouses

-High response (100% conversion rate on seeds, plums and grit)

-High response to seasonal promotion/activity (e.g driven mad by colours in Spring)

Brands already targeting pheasants include:

Unilever

Pets at Home

Argos

William Hill

Littlewoods

Heineken

Umbro

Once converted pheasants are loyal brand advocates, displaying repeat behaviour until death (usually Autumn). Next, chop 1 onion, 2 cloves of garlic and pre-heat your oven to 180C. Season the bird and place in a large casserole along with the onion, garlic and bouquet garni. Add the juice and zest of an orange, and top up with enough red wine to cover the bird. Finally, cook slowly for 2 and 1/2 hours or until the liquid has reduced by half. Serve warm with roast vegetables and a full-bodied claret.