Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Iraq visit helps PM avoid London queues

London's Oxford Street was Britain's busiest at the weekend, choked with millions of consumers going toe-to-toe for Xmas presents.

But while shoppers bustled, barged, searched, queued and collapsed in exhaustion, one canny Brit dodged the crowds and snapped up a few bargains at the same time. That man was Prime Minister Tony Blair, who nipped off to Iraq for a spot of Xmas bargain hunting. Speaking from the country's capital, the prime minister gushed: “There are bargains galore in Baghdad, and the shops are practically deserted.”

Blair was visiting Iraq’s war torn capital after a night of fire fights that saw the heavily damaged city’s residents flee in fear. The prime minister managed to snap up some local fare in the near-deserted streets, grabbing a yashmak and a hooka among other gifts for his family.

A squaddie contact of the PCP whispered: “He asked us where he could get a cheap burkha for Cherie.”

Following his shopping trip, the Prime Minister quickly stopped off at a few British army bases in Iraq, to speak with sqauddies and autograph tanks.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Lack of scandal dents England blame clean sheet

“Lack of scandal” is to blame for England’s cricket team failing to escape criticism from one of their worst test cricket performances in years, claims coach Duncan Fletcher. The England cricket XI, trailing the series 3-0, lost the coveted Ashes to world champs, Australia, today in Perth.

Ball-tampering, match-rigging and referee bribery scandals have captured the public imagination and diverted media attention from shockingly poor England performances in recent years. However, the Ashes series, the cricket world’s most-anticipated series, was painfully scandal-free for the team.

Coach Fletcher lamented: “It’s the worst (Test series) for years in terms of scandal. What I’d give for a bit of dodgy ball tampering, like we had in the summer when we lost against Pakistan. We can usually rely on (world’s best ‘spin’ bowler) Shane Warne for a bit of private life strife to divert the media’s gaze. But they gave us nothing.”

Fletcher was speaking to the PCP from the bottom of a pint glass in Whitechapel, London.

Opik to leave Irmia for “more exotic name”

Liberal Democrat MP, Lembit Opik, is to leave latest squeeze, Gabriela Irimia, for a girl with “an even more exotic name,” according to an insider.

Having hooked up with the z-list Transylvanian from failed novelty pop act, the Cheeky Girls, just two weeks after splitting with fiancé, weather girl Sian Lloyd, it is said that Opik is craving an even more exotic name to appear in gossip columns with.

“Lembit thinks that Irimia sounds too ‘Mongolian hoards’,” says a friend. “He’s more into a spacey kind of vibe now – something like ‘Ursula X150’ would be a perfect name to date.”

Opik split from weather girl fiancé, Sian Lloyd, two weeks ago, as she refused to change her name to Streets of Sian Fran Cisco. Lloyd said at the time: “Lembit insists on having a partner whose name sounds like a 70s TV show starring a young Michael Douglas and improbably-nosed Karl Malden. But I didn’t want to change my name.”



Monday, December 11, 2006

Wii like - Nintendo gives prisoners new chat-up line

Word from inside the joint reaches PCP towers that prisoners are going gaga for Wii (pron. 'we'). That's the new Nintendo Wii, yo.

See, the new game console's unique playing style - using the controller like a kind of raquet or lightsabre handle - is leading to frenetic game play. This leads to sweaty palms and which in turn leads to controllers slipping right outta hands and onto the floor.

Like soap.

You wanna pick it up?

Go on. Pick it up bitch.

Dalek babe's Polonium boon

An immigrant in a dead-end job today snatched a chance of a better life - thanks to deadly poison, Polonium 210, yo.

Raven-haired man magnet, Ela Malek, was up to her East European elbows in dead fish and dirty dishes at Itsu, the restaurant at the centre of the London radiation scare.
As a poorly paid waitress, the snake-hipped seductress harnessed media interest in the Polonium scare to get sexy pictures in national tabloids like the Sun.

'Radiating' sex appeal, the so-called toxic stunna served up a well-honed pitch designed to appeal to the British tabloid market. The busty brunette with Bond-girl looks said: "I feel like I'm caught in the middle of some mad spy movie."

Malek, the only daughter of Davros the Dalek, also discovered a rash on her perfect ten body around the time of the scare. She didn't say where the rash was or whether the STD clinic medicince has cleared it up, but has sworn to get rid of it before any casting couch calls.

Xmas party polls top Xmas polls poll shocker

It’s not shocking! But it's official! Xmas party polls top our Public Relations Professionals’ (PROs) Favourite Xmas polls poll list, 2006.

Britain’s battalions of brand publicists are unleashing Xmas party polls at a rate of more than 5 per day – that’s a whopping 35 per week, according to a simple arithmetic equation designed to patronise readers.

The festive party stories, meant to generate publicity in the nation's newspapers, radio airwaves and televisual broadcast beams, are thrashing lesser counterparts such as research-based stories about crap towns.

Here at your friendly neighbourhood Pop Culture Phrasebook, we've scaled the greasy PR pole to get a bird's eye view of the battle for Yule-time column inches. And we're proud to bring you some highlights from the blizzard of festive party stories that are bound to get you in the party mood. Fortunately, the findings are reasuringly trite and predicatable, so they won't tax your emotional or mental energy reserves:

  • Bosses can be mean about giving workers money and time for Xmas partying, says GMI Europe
  • People spend money at Xmas parties, according to Cornhill Direct
  • Norwich Union reckons that hangovers from Xmas parties make you feel ill
  • Cleaners attend less Xmas parties than some other workers, such as Xmas party organisers, says British Cleaning Council
  • People have Xmas party antics such as flirting with colleagues, finds found Nandos
  • Drunks lose phones when hammered, says T-Mobile
Digging deeper into the fascinating pop cultural phenomenon of the Xmas party PR poll story, the PCP made yet another jaw-dropping, knee-trembling, throat-parching discovery.

The word 'poll' was the number one most favouritist way to describe the sampling of consumer opinions on the subject of Xmas parties. 'Poll' easily beat lesser nouns 'survey' and 'research' - a whopping 66.6% of PRs favoured the four letter word to its lengthier counterparts.

PCP went to interview Poll at its home in Ashford, Middlsex. After several unsuccessful attempts to get Poll to answer the door, we shouted through the letter box, only to receive the following reply: "F*** off! I'm busy inserting myself into a press release. And another. And another. Uh, yeah, you like that don't you press release? Say my name, *****. I'm Poll Daddy, *****!"

Trying another tack, PCP spoke with the slick and dashing Mayfair publicist, Max Cliffe. Cliffe said: "Survey has become a dirty word in this town. Poll has more mass appeal; your ordinary man on the street has a mental age of a 13 year old - we're talking 70% of the population, here. That's why X-factor is such a hit. It's a small word - like Sun, and Star and Mirra - and that means it's easy to read. Research, on the other had, is more high brow, yet much more credible. But the truth is, there isn't a publicist in town that knows how to wield it's awesome power. Or how to spell it."

Friday, December 01, 2006

Pop Culture Phrasebook offer: Mel Gibson available for racism workshops

Looking for a celeb to front anti-alcoholism, or racist campaigns? Then look no further than your friendly, neighbourhood Pop Culture Phrasebook. Thanks to an exlusive offer through our sister PR agency, the Pop Culture Reputations, Inc.*, we can exclusively offer you Mel Gibson available for any kind of brand work**.

You may have caught Mel advising Michael Richards - Kramer from Seinfeld - on how to recover from being caught making dodgy racist comments in public. Richards recently told two black hecklers in his stand-up audience that "50 years ago, we'd have you upside down with a ****ing fork in your ass," as this report attests. Racist Gibson said, "I like him," and said that "They'll probably torture him for a while and then let him go." Thankfully, this is ego-crazed celebrity racist Mel Gibson, so we know he's not being totally, utterly flip. Because he's a Hollywood star. With a major ego. That's-why.

The recovering alco-racist recently hit the headlines for his driving the "JP (Jewish Princess) Widow Maker-mobile" car around Hollywoodland whilst drunk out of his tiny, eggshell mind. He also made a series of anti-Semetic comments and was abusive to a couple of ever-saintly LAPD' cops. Luckily, the Catholic fundamentalist, Mel, apologised and has since made a full recovery: He's vowed never to apologise again for such racist remarks in public again without his fingers crossed behind his back.

So if anyone knows a thing or two about a thing or two, particularly is those things are racist, it's grandmaster (Grand Wizard? - Ed) Melly G and his furious bile. And that's why we're offering you this chance to not only get a major celebrity to endorse your campaigns, but one who knows all ab out being a dumb, drunken racist idiot. Word.***

*This is not a real agency
**Not strictly true
***Not, uh, a real article

Ordinary person visits Malawi, doesn't get any publicity

An ordinary Scottish woman who visited Malawi this month in bid to generate personal publicity, has today admitted spectacular failure.

Jean McCracken, a 50-year old widower and primary school teacher, had followed in the footsteps of celebrities who have made the PR pilgrimage to the poverty-stricken African country in a bid to start a media frenzy. However, the country, portrayed as a media hotspot, has failed to live up to the hype. As a result, Jean has spent weeks waiting for a press reporter and photograher swarm that has never appeared.

Speaking from an orphanage, where volunteer worker Jean was doing one of a clutch of daily tasks as volunteer, she said: "Malawi has been all over the media in the past month as one of the world's top destinations to go to get publicity, but so far I've had nothing. Evey day I see celebrities advertising it as easily the best place to raise their profile and gain public sympathy - people like Madonna, Brangelina, and Melinda Messenger. The attention that offers them untold fulfillment was meant to be within my reach. Well the PR around that country is nothing more than hype - I've been here a week and not done a single photocall. "

The Pop Culture Phrasebook caught up with leading publicist, Max Cliff, to offer Jean advice on how to turn this crushing negative into a positive. Max said: "How much are you paying?"

Meanwhile, non-celebrity Jean is stranded in a publicity vacuum. The non-celebrity is forced to busy herself with mundane, achingly meaningful tasks such as teaching orphans critical life skills and vital, basic educational skills. Rather than publicity, she has had to make do with little more than love, affection and appreciation and the empty feeling that comes from genuinely helping a suffering people.

Meanwhile, every day Jean remains tortured by the memory of the media frenzies in the country around celebrities like Madonna. The reptilian, ego-on-skeletal legs generated worldwide media coverage in a massive Malawian PR stunt. On her recent baby shopping trip, the singer attended a string of press-friendly photocalls in various, tribal villages. This included reading her failed children's book in English to Chichewa-speaking Aids orphans, and doing sexed-up dance routines from her latest world tour to children under the age of sexual consent, and her famous 'cruxifiction' routine, to staunchly Christian villagers.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Get 40% off good wine in time for Xmas

"You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on" - Dean Martin.

Hic. You like to drink wine, right? I like it too. Even more so when I can get top tipples for less. And that's just what you and I can do by clicking on the picture to the left, or download the better quality PDF here.

There's more to the voucher than meets the eye. Oh sure, you'll still get money off, so print away. However, there's a bit of a story behind it. Apparently, the brand's marketing men didn't intend for the 40% off voucher to speed its way around the interweb - but it has, and how. Rather than a few Thresher insiders knowing about the superb offer, now 1000s of outsiders doo, too. Like you. Like me. So it goes.

So get down to Threshers, grab a few cases, pour yourself a snifter, and check out the Gaping Void for the full story.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Bowlin', howlin'

I'm off bowlin' tonight with colleagues. I'll post my winning scores later, after wiping the lanes with my lily-wristed work pals ;)

I'm modelling my style on Teen Wolf - very wristy and howly. I'm a darn site hairier than any wolf though - and I'm not sure how my fur will interfere with the hair-odynamics. But that's for me to figure out.

You - you can check out clips from my favourite movies featuring hot bowling action:

  • The Little Lebowski - the short version of Coen Bros. classic, The Big Lebowski (sweary)
  • Bill Murray on blistering form in the final scene of Kingpin - strangley (lairy)
  • A wolf that can bowl? No, a Teen Wolf that can bowl! (hairy)
  • Animal House, Porkys & Gremlins - more confusing than the three put togther, and far lower budget/quality than any of them individually, it's the equally 80s lowbrow classic Sorority Babes in Slimball Bowl-O-Rama (scary)


Monday, November 20, 2006

Smile - you're on sex camera

In the middle of writing some PR proposals for a new biz prospect. I'm developing a fashion photoshoot idea themed around making of a celebrity sex-tape. Called "The fall of celebrity", it should generate fashion magazine coverage. Particularly if we get the right snapper - someone like Terry Richardson or Ryan McGinley.

Don't know if the prospect will be up for it or not - it's risqué but fun. Either way, I've had some fun checking out some of my fave reality and gonzo style photography sites in the name of research. I'd like you to enjoy them, too so here are some links:

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Zootube - Taxi

Double-funny video to promote Zoo magazine. Saw it on large screen at the cinema before Borat movie. Well, if you're gonna spend £10K on an ad...

We like sharing

"I tried to save the world but forgot to save myself" - David Hasselhoff (We're currently being quoted £150,000 for one day of the Hoff's time - frankly I'd rather sit on a chainsaw than hire that leathery has- been who has jumped the shark for the umpteenth time)

Jedis ask for human rights, don't think Dark Side poses threat - today's Sun Online, either I missed in the print edition or it's online only (?????)

Kevin Federline wants to get his super-talented mitts on
this lot - thanks Popjustice

sexy walls


Back in the 80s, purple pop star, Prince, was writing lyrical Viagra so filthy that I had to have a cold shower every time I listened to his songs.

Banned single, Erotic City was one such audio grot, Purple Rain track Darling Nikki was another. His output of sexy songs was so prodigious that he had too many for himself.

So he gave them to other artists, such as Sheena Easton. After, allegedly, love-grinding his Purple Highness pelt-like* pelvis, the wee Scots lassie recorded a Prince-penned number called Sugar Walls. You can probably work out what 'sugar walls' the pop star was referring to.

Equally sexy, yet infintely more sublte and stylish is
Ded Associates' new wallpaper, Paper Voyeur. My old mates' Jon and Nik have come up with easily the sexiest wall coverings of the year. And if you want to write about it, sell it or buy it, simply contact them on +44 (0)114 249 3939. They're rather shit hot graphic designers so if you need any design work done, bear them in mind.

Alternatively, you could do the low rent version which is to trace Playboy pages onto your wall and colour in with magic markers. That'd look good.

*used only for alliteration purposes.

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Tokyo tramp stampede

It's 4am, and the tramps are beginning to stampede. Along with them are the Chinese students. Caught up in the frenzy are a bunch of Tokyo gamers. 300 tense people are orbiting Bic Camera, a Tokyo store, with the same intent - to be among the world's first to buy a shiny new PS3 console.

Brad's account of buying the first PS3 console is insightful, emotional and just a little hilarious. Sharky businessmen have employed a number of poor Chinese students to snap up the consoles to sell at vastly over-inflated sums abroad. Tokyo residents have paid tramps to queue for them. Journalists, snappers and TV crews are there to capture the action.

No-one is allowed to stand still thanks to a law banning queuing in the dark. A store shutter moves here. A store clerk appears there. But a mere flinch at Bic Camera tips the mob into a frenzied
rush to the store. And then back again. It's like a panicked version of a Benny Hill chase sequence. As for Brad and his mates, they're just hardcore gamers intent on getting the console the world has been waiting for.

For PS3, this truly is PR that money can't buy. Now, I'm off to type up a plan for an MP3 player new business prospect. Recommendation #1, hire squad of tramps...Story via Jean Snow.

Spamalot review

Just back from Spamalot at the Palace Theatre. It's a cracking comedy musical with some brilliant moments. From the "We need a Jew" song to the French castle sequence right outta the Python movie that inspired the show - complete with wooden stealth rabbit. It's not a musical of the Holy Grail film, however; like the publicity says, it's inspired by the movie. So the Sir Galahad coming out of the mediaeval closet sequence, complete with an ueber camp dance routine will have those expecting a carbon copy of the movie - but with more songs- slightly shocked.

The show goes a bit post-modern with its self referential twist a la final sequence in Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles movie: King Arthur's quest is...to reach 'Theatreland - London's West End'. Kinf of like Brooks' cowboys storming the film set of a movie being shot in Hollywood. Not exactly an original gag but effective enough. It works best when weaved into songs with the female lead. In fact, every song with the female lead was stunning. Played by Hannah Waddingham stole the show - she's worth the ticket price alone.

Verdict: a fun night out. As a footnote, I would recommend getting decent seats. I was in probably the worst seat in the house - in the circle with obscured view. Dire stuff - if the vertigo didn't get me, the neck ache did.

You can't capture the magic of a live show on video - well, none of the crappy clips on YouTube have managed to - so here's a Star Trek/Holy Grail mashup instead.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Another day, another Lucy Pinder shoot

Working in consumer PR is really hard. Take today for instance. We had to get up, and hang out all day with sexy cover babe, Lucy Pinder, again. Yes, again. Spending time with her in the cab, at photoshoots, and hanging out with her at various lads mags. It's just not fair. Why can't we do interesting things like accounting or fixing computers?

Lucy is so hot that, apparently, she nearly turned a gay colleague of mine straight. Easy tiger. She also had the guys at Loaded, Maxim, Ice and new online mag Monkey going gaga.

Not only does she help sell more lads mags than any other girl nowadays (5-9% uplift) - A-list stars included - but she's an absolute joy to work with. She was even kind enough to record a video message (see grab, left) for my sister's kid, a lads mag/ueber babe fanatic .

I'm going to turn into a kind PR stalker by factoring Miss Pinder into every single client recommendation from now on. "You're launching a new product? Use Lucy." "You need a venue? Pick anywhere - just put Lucy in it." "You need a cab across town? Why not get Lucy to keep you company? I'll chaperone." She's great. And she's doing good things for my clients, too.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Babyshambles guitarist joins dad?

Dad did the clan proud with arguably his best gig on Saturday night, his 32nd year at the Glasgow Pavillion theatre.

"Steak and Kidney" - as he's known north of the border - played to houses Thursday through Saturday packed mainly with old fans but there were some news ones too. There were swathes of the (mainly) over forties (and even a 90-year old lady!) that have grown up with my dad since he started performing at 13 years old. It may have been an older audience than a Kings of Leon gig, but age never stopped me from flirting. Of course I'm sworn to secrecy on this front.

But there was also young totty too. My nephew, Ryan, and I were chatted up in the bar before the show by a young gaggle of gallus Glasgow gals who spotted the family resemblance. Of course, I'm engaged so I couldn't participate in la chasse. However I did help my nephew out with some killer chat up lines, including this little beauty: "Would you like a stalker, gorgeous?"


My gig pics are
here at my Phanfare album, and their my finest to date. They're my only ones to date and that is one of the key reasons for their triumph over my previous efforts.

As for the gig itself, this is my first gig review so I imagine it will be excellent. At least in comparison to my previous efforts, that is. However, as I've just used the same gag twice in quick succession, I don't hold out much hope for the bugger. But here goes - I advise you to prceed at extreme caution.

I've got to start with the lighting. It was good. At this point i have to say that I'm not sure this review is going well, but I'd better press on or it'll take all day. The multi-coloured star cloth and nebulae-coloured lights and floating galaxy dust (which may have been stage smoke) reminded me of Juan Atkins' last Model 500 - Deep Space album artwork - the Detroit spacey techno crowd would have loved it.

Any review should mention the band - and I'm not one for rebellion; at this point, I need all the guidance I can get. According to showbiz jargon, Legend - as the band is called - was 'tight'. I won't bore you with individual performances but it is worth mentioning the somewhat cadaverous guitarist, Frankie. Looking like he should have been on stage with Babyshambles, it seemed the only thing keeping Frankie alive on stage were regular
shocks from a frayed amp lead.

Altogether more wholesome was the surprise addition of the 50-strong Glasgow Phoenix Choir. Arriving on stage at the end, they really beefed up the sound and ramped up the atmosphere. Their support for the rousing, if not parochial, 'Scotland Forever' finalé had the hairs standing up on my neck, and even on the chin of the old dear in front of me. I couldn't stop making Herr Lipp gags about a giant "Queer" on stage but no-one seemed to laugh.

Of course the show isn't necessarily my kind of music or my scene - far from it, in fact. But that's the thing - it's a family thing. I'd even go and watch my nephews in their various school plays - if they weren't such talentless wretches. But I joke - and the truth is that the old man certainly knows how to entertain. I was absolutely riveted by the show .and dad's voice was better than ever, fragile with emotion at times which reminded me a bit Johnny Cash on the stunning 'Hurt'. Where as my voice sounds like the wails of a dog that's just been cornered by a gang of starving north Koreans. Or even a gang of drunken Scots that can't be bothered to find the nearest dep fried Mars bar.

Anyway, this whole review seems to have gone right off the rails, so perhaps I'll just rush straight on to the plugs. What kind of PR would I be if I didn't slap some plugs onto this little post? So, 1-2 loyal readers, if you're looking for a gift for that special someone this Xmas, forget about whizzy gadgets, forget about Tiffany jewellry, forget about cool clothes; instead, why not plum for some of the following great gifts - a percentage of every one sold goes into my old man's pocket, whencefrom I can attempt to pinch it, and in return buy you a free drink. And - hence - the karmic circle is complete. Anyway, you can choose from an autobiography, or one of two new albums, and a DVD (I think). Each CD sale will help add to his 15 million album sales. What do you mean 'iTunes'? What is an 'iTunes'?

If however, you agree with this venomous bunch's view that big Syd is actually Scotland's
worst singer, you many want to buy one of his products anyway - for your enemy. Ah, ever the salesmen, eh? Perhaps it's better if I simply give this whole freakish jig up and get the hell away from this whole way-led, cock-eyed post fast, like some crazed, febrile, naked, dribbling yahoo. Either that, or just take Snagglepuss' advice and exit, stage left.

SANTA CLAWS

Ayr, west coast of Scotland, Saturday night. A giant claw knocks on the front door. It belongs to a fresh lobster that my dad's mate, Dredger, caught that day. Dredger's an ordinary fisherman but catches some of the world's best shellfish you can find - so good it finds its way into restaurants in London, Paris and Barcelona - and even Manhattan. And he's brought round a freshly snared lobster. He's the Santa of the sea.

But what to do? I've never cooked one of these monsters before. I've got recipe books - like one of Gordon Ramsay 's - but they all seem to be super-fancy recipes. Whereas I want it as simple as possible - why spoil something so fresh and tasty with other flavours?

So I just do the simple thing: boil it in court buillon and serve it with a simple garlic mayo dip and home made oven chips made from Ayrshire potatoes. Wash it down with a
local ale. Simple. Superb. And totally local. Everything consumed came from within 10 miles. No-one else in the family wanted to share the spoils, though - my poor sister even screamed when she saw the lobster in the kitchen sink. I don't blame them for not wanting to eat such amazing food but sadly this is the attitude of many Scots. And thats why, even with one of the world's best natural larders - the finest shell fish, salmon, osyters, mussels, venison, beef, lamb, gorgeous vegetables, beautiful fruit - the country has one of the worst diets in the 'first' world. A diet which has helped earn the west coast of Scotland the unenviable reputation as the world's heart attack capital. The country fails to embrace its best assets.


Worse, despite many Scots failing to really embrace their country's amazing edible assets, many natural food resources are on the brink of disaster. Dredger told me the
Ayrshire's fishing fleet stands at a mere 19 boats, almost all sailing from Troon. The Ayr port has long since shut down and nearby Girvan is waning. The fish stocks in the area are all but gone - fished out. Indeed, the prawn industry is keeping what's left of the local fishing industry afloat. But with a decimated eco-system, how long before these prized catches go the way of North Atlantic and North Sea cod stocks?

My strategic solution is this, for what it's worth:
  • A national campaign spear-headed by HEBS (Health Education Board Scotland) to change the country's eating culture - link with key media partners - promote Scottish food, local, natural food - campaign for healthy eating in the school, the workplace and the home
  • Curb fishing in areas where stocks are at perilously low levels - create and manage protected marine and animal parks that have proived so successful around the world, such as Australia, Sardinia or closer to home in Northern Ireland
  • Promote leisure and tourism in marine and animal parks - e.g. seal and whale watching trips and sports activities like Sailing and diving - the climate may seem at certain times of the year an anoyance, but not totally prohbitive
Basically, uh, whatever it takes to help ensure a steady stream of fresh lobster to my plate for years to come.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

I'm not your friend

Homeless people put up with a lot of shit. They cope with pretty extraordinary circumstances. Yet, just like you never see baby pigeons, you never see homeless people cry. So when I passed one today, bawling his eyes out, I felt compelled to find out why.

Me: “Hey-hey-hey there, big guy, are you ok?”
Homeless guy (crying, a lot): “No, I’m not facking ok, ok?”
Me: “Not sure what I can do, slick, but can I help at all?”
Homeless guy (crying, a lot): “Nathing, you facking cant, unless you can get the facking best facking music vide award off of those facking cants, Justice and Simian, and give it to the facking artist that truly facking deserves it – Kanye.”
Me: “Why should I, pal?”
Homeless guy (crying, a little less): “Because Pamela fackin Anderson was in that video, it cost a facking million, and facking Kanye jumped across a facking canyon.”
Me: “Like Evil Kneivel?”
Homeless guy (snivelling): “Not facking really. Cant.”
Me: “But – dude – have you seen the Justice and Simian video? It like, totally, facking rocks, dude.”

At this point, a thump from nowhere bashed me hard, and I toppled over onto the pavement. I awoke some minutes later, with cartoon birds tweeting around my head. Someone had knocked me out and stuffed something in my mouth: a magazine page of pneumatic pin-up, Pamela Anderson.

Maybe the homeless guy was right. Maybe Kanye was too. Maybe putting Pamela Anderson in his video should have scooped him this year’s best video award at the MTVE VMAs, and not Justice/Simian's "We are your friends".

Maybe that’s why the homeless guy lashed out at me. And maybe that’s why Kanye stormed the stage. Maybe I should stop writing “maybe” over and over again. It’s making me feel suicidal. Why don’t you make up your own mind. Read this crazy mofo - it'll help you figure out this whole badass situation.

Monday, November 06, 2006

Lucy Pinder - News of the World GadgiTs Shoot

For work, I set up this photoshoot with Lucy Pinder. I wonder what people think of it?

My colleague Jon managed the shoot. I think it was the best day in Jon's life. Certainly his working life. My colleague Jodie placed the pictures of Lucy in the News of the World - and the Gadgits blog.

Lucy is an absolute phenomenon. When publishers put her on a cover, sales shoot up. One of her videos on YouTube has over 180,000 views. Quite a girl. I don't think that a video of my posing in a bustiere would quite get the same attention. But then again, my man boobs have a way to go until they swell to Lucy's size.

Anyway, working with Lucy's agent was a joy. Next time, I might even get to meet the girl herself.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Leave the kids alone

Jim used to say "leave the kid alone". Jim used to take me to go-karts. Showed me how to roller skate. We used to make slides out of piles of matresses spewing out of the back of the truck he drove. Out of all of my sister's boyfriends, I liked Jim the most.

Not only was he generous with his time - he was generous with his spirit. Most of all, he respected me. And he urged others to. I was only 8.

Jim didn't have a degree, but he was smart enough and street-clever. He grasped what most adults failed to then and still fail to now: kids of any age crave and deserve respect.

And this was the very point that the lovely Michelle James, director of marketing for music charity, Music Youth, made at the Marketing Youth conference on Tuesday. Like most of the presentations I caught that day, Michelle's was full of utterly interesting information if not a thoroughly captivating delivery. That is, until she went off script - to express a very personal view of how Britain is treating it's children. Suddenly, she became far more engaging than any other speaker that day.

Michelle argued that, as a nation, we're starting to completely stop respecting our youth, with disastrous consequences. She should know.
Broadly, Michelle's charity works with extremely disadvantaged youth. Kids from broken homes, patchy educations, even ex-criminals. The one thing that each kid has in common, says Michelle, is that have all suffered from respect neglect. This is no tinpot issue. Forensic psychology long ago discovered the link between respect and crime.

Michelle argued that the media's awful, dramatic portrayal of all UK kids as "hoodie thugs" bent on wrecking Britain is become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Hell yeah, Michelle, finally someone said it. And at a marketing conference of all places. High five, girl.

Pick up any British newspaper, quality or tabliod, any day of the week, and you'll find them
screaming about some kind of impending social apocalypse - with teenage Brits cast as the four horsemen.

Take today's Daily Mail,for instance. "ASBO DEFAULTERS GET OFF SCOT-FREE", shrieked one headline. This scary-haired harridan of a newspaper neatly twisted statistics to make teens the focus of the story - ASBOs (Anti Social Behaviour Disorders) are neither exclusively handed out to teens, nor do they necessarily carry a jail sentence. Indeed, they're as likely to be issued to a Daily Mail reader letting their trees grow into a neighbouring garden as a teenager on a street corner. It wasn't the only Mail story ntoday to show such downright disrespect to nation's youth - as well as its own readers by manipulating the facts to such an extent.

According to the mid-market tabloid, a "68 YR OLD WOMAN KICKED OUT (of a restaurant) FOR WEARING A HOOD." It interviewed the woman, who claimed that she would “in no way call (her top) a hoodie”. The implication was that she was treated like a common thugish teenager - a second class citizen. Another Mail headline, still in today's paper shouted "BLAIR: CHILDREN NEED DISCIPLINE", while another lamented that it's now "OK 2 USE YXT ANSRS N XAMS". The latter article implies that teenagers themselves have relentlessly driven down the country's once-proud education standards.

More disturbingly, the Daily Mail wholelsale labels teenagers as "teenage tearaways", "yobs" and "teen thugs." It relentlessly implies that British youth is contaminating the country. Doesn't that sound a little like a syphilitic chap called Adolph a few years back? And this is the paper that informs, educates and entertains about 6 million Britons every day. Forget what we are teaching or kids for a moment, and consider this: what the hell are we teaching our adults?

Perhaps we should force all mail readers through a re-endoctrination scheme, developed by none other than Save The Hoodie campaigner, Lady Sovereign. At least until they agree to start respecting the massive chunk of the country's population that they continually diss. Peace, out!


Thursday, October 26, 2006

The PR Kingdom

Two thirds into Ballard's latest offering, Kingdom Come, and it's tripping all kinds of ideas. But it's a genuinely sinister one that's got me quite excited.

The idea is about a contract killing agency and set up specifically for corporate killings. It examines the increasingly competitive nature of the workplace, and was part inspired by an agency I used to work.

This previous agency introduced and fostered a "cock fight" culture; colleagues were pushed and pressured to compete with each other. And this resulted in many quality staff leaving.

Though in-house competitiveness is rife anyway, I like the idea of stretching this to an extreme. Whereas Bret Easton Ellis' Patrick Bateman kills Paul Owen in American Psycho in a bid to win a major banking account, my idea sees this kind of behaviour becoming common place.

Indeed, turning a colleague into hamburger to gain their job, or slicing and dicing a competitor to help win a bit of business becomes the equilibrium, rather like the bizarre trend of teenage suicide in Micronesia.

Driving this will be a shady security agency that emerged in the wake of security paranoia following early 21st century terrorist attacks. I have worked with such a security agency, although in no way would they condone this kind of killing, corporate or otherwise. I fancy this as a book, play, movie, or - hey, why not? - all three. Will I actually get around to writing it? Will even get around to finishing the Ballard book? Probably no to the former, but yes to the latter at least. I can barely get round to buying medicine to ease the suffering of this damned, shit cold.


Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Celebrity dada report

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Thursday, October 19, 2006

Big Bird and the monsters

Shit happens. You go to the four corners of the world searching for him and you get like you don't believe he exists.

Then as a last resort you go to Venice when you're herded onto a floating graveyard, shambling its way to a festering Rialto bridge, grim with clouds of tourist-flies.

You're covering your eyes with your hands and thinking of ending it all right there when - flash - you take your hands away and you see him like a vision.

Wearing nothing but a God-beard, Big Bird t-shirt and the fattest braces in the whole of the land, it's all he needs to wear. It doesn't matter becuase he's here and he's found you and the bridge is like Lego gone good and the monsters of destiny are quiet again.

School grinners

He MAY talk like his tongue is swollen with the sting of a thousand bees, but Jamie Oliver is the inspiration for my latest Dead Ringers sketch.

SLAMS BREAKS. Whoa. Wait. I'm getting a little ahead of myself there. To rewind a little, I'm trying to get into writing comedy. I'm targeting my first batch at Dead Ringers.

However, I've never submitted any comedy sketches to any show before so I might be being naíve. So what's wrong with that? At least I'm competing work: I've drafted about 8 sketches now and none of them make me want to kill myself. They just make me want to strangle the idiot that wrote them. Oh.

Ok, I know, I have a non-existent portfolio. I have no 'whites', or screen credits. And Dead Ringers may be aiming high. But why aim low?

Sometimes I get that manic depression symptom* where I read the material and think "Holy shit! You've cracked it man! You can outwrite them all! This isn't comedy - it's genius. Terrific, terifying genius!", and love the material so much I want to rip the words off the laptop screen and kiss each and every one of them. Then, other times I read them and sink into a deep melancholy, where I want the words to jump out of the screen and beat me to a pulp for me putting them together in such a lame, insulting way.

When I'm crisp and even, though, I look at the sketches, or skits as my American buddies call 'em , reckon they have potential. Need some work, but have potential. And at that moment, I desperately want to see them make it onto the screen one day soon. Why wouldn't I? There the funniest things I've seen in a long time.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Honey, I shrunk the Didds!

Finally we have evidence that Hollywood shrink fiend, Rick Moranis, has started shrinking hip hop's A-list. As you can see in the picture, left, twisted Moranis has shrunk the Godfather of bling himself, P Diddy, to under 2 feet tall.

Rick you bastard! Where will your crazy shrinking binge end? Can you please not shrink hip hop's blingest?

What's the problem here, Rik? Wasn't waiting for Dozer the Traveler enough for you? Singing country music doesn't upset enough people you gotta upset some more? You gotta bring a rap giant down to knee height?

Well listen buddy, no thanks to you we're gonna solve this diddy Diddy problem. Yeah. We've called in wonder woman herself to the rescue: selfish careerist Madonna. If anyone can build that Diddy up into a mountain of a man who no-one in the world wil fail to notice, it's her.

Indeed, by putting mini-Diddy into care with the Juicy Couture-clad living cadaver, we can practically guarantee that he'll never want for attention again. Of course, it won't be the normal, loving, attentive care that any normal kid'll receive. No way, Slick - it's far better than that. It's a paparrazzi-scrum-every-day, 24-7-media-coverage, looked-after-by-a-team-of-yes-men kind of attention.

So shrink away, Moranis, we got the solution locked down.


Thanks to Perez Hilton for the image.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Reuters in Wonderland

Hey yo, I'm virtual Pather Man, and I just bought my digitised Adidas at the pixelated sneaker store. Who, you ask? Where, you enquire? Second Life, yo, that's where.

News agency,
Reuters, is opening a virtual bureau there, according to rival, BBC online. Is the world going a bit too Alice in Wonderland? Second Life's virtual inhabitants are represented by avatars - they may be digitised likenesses of users, or total chimeras.

Check it: I could create a virtual Scot with a polar bear's head, Elle MacPherson's boobies, Robocop's arms, an eagle's legs and, like, dress in virtual, see-through tutu. Or something like that. Question is, would I want to?

As my vast* network of friends and contacts will attest, I'm bad enough at maintaining my own real world community let alone a new, virtual one. As much as I love new technology, gadgets and even - zoiks - blogs, I'm just not a fan of simulations like Second Life.

The artist in me needs something tangible, touchable and authentic. I'd rather see a zebra on the savannah than transform myself into Zebra Boy on the grid. Different strokes for different folks.

Opening a virtual office in Second Life seems to be exciting certain businesses, however. Sports wear brands and car brands alike are setting out their digital stalls there. And communications businesses - like Text 100 - perhaps see opening a virtual Second Life office as vital brand behaviour: despite all other evidence to the contrary, it is meant to say that they have their finger on the pulse.

If you, like me, are not ready to enter this version of a brave new world, amuse yourself with this link to the MTV Music Video Awards spoof Matrix parody.

*this is a euphemism for "small and laughably shrivelled"

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Wall Street goes pop: "Impossible is nothing"

It's the kind of video that makes you snort whatever it is you're drinking out of nostrils. And even better that it's city banker CV-gone-pop culture.

It was taken off of YouTube pending legal action but now it's back up
here. It's the unintentionally hilarious CV video of a wannabee Wall Street slicker and full time alpha male, Aleksey Vayner.

And what a specimen he is. Marvel as he lifts a whopping 495-pound weight. Thrill as he serves a tennis ball at a super-fast 140mph. Amaze as he performs a rather impressive rotating jump while skiing (
this may be a fake clip). And - deep breath - swoon as he ballroom dances with a half-naked babe whilst dressed in skin tight black all-in-one suit (not strictly all-in-one, but makes better copy). The video finishes with Aleksey smashing a pile of bricks with one hand. It's cringe-poetry in motion.

I imagine that, just like Rex in Napoleon Dynamite, he can defend himself with the strength of a grizzly, has the reflexes of a puma, and the wisdom of a man, too. Well, maybe not the wisdom.

Potential Wall Street employers allegedly put the video online, and - boom - started a blog storm that doesn't look like it's going away any time soon. It's schadenfreude on a massive level - and I just love schadenfreude, baby.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Pop post of the day: Bow wow chow

A mole has leaked Iggy Pop's rider to The Smoking Gun. It's not the bizarre requests that get the laughs here - it's the gags written into the rider by its author, not to mention Iggy's bizarre reality TV show pitch.

Iggy reckons any TV execs reading the rider online might start a bidding war for his show that sees dog lovers cook and eat dead pooches. Reminds me a little of the grim opening chapter in JG Ballard's stunning
High Rise, in which the lead character is...well I'll let you read it yourself.

If the currently gigging Iggy has his wicked way - bow wow chow might be the next big thing in TV dinners.


And it brings a whole new light to the ageing hipster's song, "I wanna be your dog". Woof.

Dark Side press conference


Just back from Venice and catching up but just enough time to squeeze in a nice pop-meets-PR post. This Star Wars spoof clip kicks off with an Imperial press conference. I have to commend the press officer's dark side spin; however double props to the actor who plays the recruitment agent. Check it out.


My Venice report will follow tomorrow - sit tight.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

The artist and sleep


An artist friend from New York is in town, and is working at the awesome Scope art fair which opens today.

We hung out last night and I'm suffering for it today. Talking about old times, partying times, the rock and roll times. I discovered that it's hard to talk about pre-career, non-stop partying and then slink off to bed at 9pm with a cup of cocoa and a sudoku puzzle - whatever that is. No ways - you gotta re-live it - rock and roll. So check it out, yo - I crashed into my crib this morning at 4am.

Fortunately, my company's founders inadvertently saved my bacon today by kicking the morning off with one of their excellent , regular breakfast sessions. As I tore into an absolute feast of a breakfast - a traditional "full English" - at the plush Goring hotel, a small group of us discussed new ideas to further improve our growing agency. This got the day off to a cracking start - a bellyful of hearty food and a head fizzing with new ideas. It's raining buckets outside, and I'm a missing a few hours of REM, but things are fine and good enough. And that's about all anyone can ask for.


Tuesday, October 10, 2006

What would you do to avoid listening to the Darkness?


Phew, I've just finished Popjustice's annual poll, in a bid to win a stack of CDs the same height as me.

Questions included: "Do you buy pop star's mp3 or CD simply because you 'want to kiss them'?" and "Would you rather bum Justin Hawkins than listen to the Darkness' second album?" Uh, yes to the former, no to the latter. Honest. Tough decision, really. But I admit it, I do buy Sugababes' CDs because I want to kiss them - and my restraining order attests to that.

The Popjustice poll is much better than DJ magazine's annual top 100 DJ poll. A fact underlined by techno whizz Dave Clarke who says that the DJ poll issue is his least favourite. Or perhaps more poignantly still by Future Publishing who have just put the magazine up for sale - as reported in this week's Skruff emailer.

Either way, answering questions on how badly I want to see Abba reform (really quite badly) and whether Robbie is a bigger penis than Johnny Borrell (you'd think it's be easy to answer, but it isn't) brought much-needed relief to writing an utterly sober client media training brief ahead of a national TV breakfast interview. So long live pop. Long live justice. Long live Popjustice.

The mission: emission omission

Tree Flights is a new service that will plant trees in Wales to offset your carbon emissions, and I read about it here, at Ask Pablo's latest Triple Pundit post about the impact of various forms personal transit on the enviromnent. Thanks to global warming, the enviromnent (debate) is certainly heating up.


I frigging love you(tube)

And so does the rest of the world. And that includes Google, who of course bought the scarily fast-growing interweb video sharing site today for a hefty $1.65bn.

I love YouTube for work as
this video shows, and I love it for play. I'm a slobbering you-tube-aniac. I want a channel on it. I want my company to have a channel on it. I want clients to have a channel on it. And I want it mobile. I want to be able to see it on mobile browsers like Opera.

Maybe Google can help make the mobile bit happen. I hope so. And I also hope I can stop being so sycophantic about You Tube. That kind of techno-worship is almost embarrasing. But not as embarrassing as walking around in a t-shirt with streaks of today's lunch on it but that's another story and one I won't be sharing. Oops.

Monday, October 09, 2006

Science of slapstick

I've found out how to make people laugh. Thanks to experts at the University of Sydney, I can now reveal the 'science' of slapstick comedy:
  • Juxtaposition of compatible to incompatible concepts is key
  • It's not the falling off a tightrope – it’s the trying to stay on
  • It's not the falling down – but the process of trying to stay upright
  • Same concept applies to jokes:
    • E.g. the prisoner who plays cards with warden, cheats and gets kicked out of prison for winning by foul play
Fortunately I haven't submitted my new sketch ideas to Dead Ringers yet. Now I can apply the above rules to make my sleep-inducing skits more engaging. And who knows - maybe even funny.

Collaborate on collaboration culture book


According to Open, Mekon-looking management thinker Charles Leadbetter has published his entire new book, called We-Think, about collaboration culture, on a website and is inviting comments to help mould the final version. Viva collaboration, I guess.



Brush up on your Kylie


Trendy London karaoke bar Lucky Voice has just launched a voice coaching service. So if you fancy being trained by Will Young’s vocal coach, Lucky Voice makes it easier than ever.


C'est chic, boutique (hotel)


Urban Planning links to a new hotel with 30 individually-designed rooms.

The Propeller Island City lodge in super-hip Berlin is a "work of art" featuring rooms and objects individually designed by German artist, Lars Stroschen.

Unlike my apartment, which looks like it was designed by Stig of the Dump

Bonkers conkers competition


This is what British sport is really about: eccentric, traditional and often downright brutal sports like 'conkers'. The World Conker Championships took place in Ashton, Northamptonshire, this weekend. I'm thoroughly gutted that I missed the chance to take part in it and snap away at it. I raced back to the area yesterday from Malvern but - alas - too late.

The sport may be totally bonkers but I say preserve it. Alongside other British classics such as
cheese rolling and bog snorkelling.

I'm always on the lookout for opps to team my PR clients up with these eccentric 'sports'.
Ben & Jerrys sponsor the Conler champs, though I don't know if they do anything interesting with the property. So I'm issuing an appeal here and now to JCB & Trek bikes. JCB could massively scale up the conker champs: how about a demolition ball conkers tournament for Top Gear or Saturday Night Takeaway. Or how about 'man versus cheese' for Trek: the cycle brand could pit its latest downhill mountain bike against Britain's 'fastest cheese' for a feature in Loaded magazine - or simply to create a funny viral video.