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.

Picking magic mushrooms, seeing giant pandas


I was sure that I had been chomping wild chanterelles until I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a giant panda. At that point, I began to wonder instead if I was gobbling down magic mushrooms and had already started tripping mildly.

Inspired by this month’s Men’s Health feature on free foods and armed with my SAS survival book, the missus and I were foraging to collect naturally growing food.

Having collected nettles, elderflower and rosehips to make soups and teas, we headed to where it's warm and moist for a bit of 'shrooming. And on one hillside alone, we were spoiled by an absolute embarrassment of wild, edible mushrooms to turn into double tasty soups, pasta sauces, and risotto dishes. Mushrooms taste magic, particularly when they're freshly picked and local.

With the food miles debate raging, the organic movement in full swing, and the environment reaching the top of the agenda there's never been a better time to raid nature's larder. This is nothing new, apparently. Fergus Drennan, for instance, has been foraging for years. Indeed - he's a professional who offers courses in how to find food even in city centre parkland (e.g. London's Wandsworth Common). He also supplies some of London's top restaurants, including the Ivy and Jamie Oliver's Fifteen. You can also take tips from the master himself, Richard Mabey, whose "Food for Free" book is a foraging bible.

Thinking from a professional perspective, my favourite organic food shop, Fresh and Wild could tap into the foraging buzz by starting up local foraging clubs. The Battersea branch, for instance, is ideally placed for both Clapham and Wandsworth commons. Herbal remedy brand Neal's Yard could do the same. Or local papers around the UK could start a 'free food' campaign, with seasonal guides and maps on where locals can literally 'pick their own'.

As for the panda, turns out it wasn't a hallucination, after all. It was a 'manda' - a man panda, i.e. a man in a panda suit. The fella was guiding a group of kids around the Malvern hills. I don't know why he was doing this in a panda suit, as pandas aren't native to the area. Perhaps he had gobbled his own funky funghi and thus the Malverns became a forest in Southwest China. And why not? I guess a panda suit and a pretend forest is as good it gets when the mushrooms are free, fresh and magic.


There goes the rut


I missed the rut, dagnammit, but did manage to snatch some shots of stags trying to knock down tasty chestnuts with their antlers.

Friday, October 06, 2006

It's time to rut


I've given my all to PR this week. And thanks to my efforts, the world definitely has more PR in it. Actually - it could have less, but: a) it's not for my trying, and; b) I have no wish to measure it.

Either way, I need to recede. Not follicly, of course. My mane will remain the usual kinky folly perched on top of my dumb dome. No I'm receding from the front lines of consultancy to melt into the background of countryside.

It's time for the rut. Male deer are getting frisky and it's time for the ultimate stag party. And I intend to see this full-on nature porn at its rawest. Never seen it before so off to Rockingham Forest with my favourite girl (my trusty Canon EOS 350D) and my fiancé. Well, I need someone to help change my lenses. Ta-boom. Having captured racing camels in Northampton (not a student smoking competition), I'm looking for a more, uh, natural nature photo opp.

So whilst the youth - and possibly even the randy age-d - of London gears up for the usual weekend orgy of sex and violence, I'm off the watch violent animal sex in the country.

"You'll eat food made from sawdust!"


What better way to kick off my new blog about pop culture* that affects my world than with a story about travlling to work on rocket ships and eating Michelin-star meals made from sawdust? This article via the awesome MAKE magazine blog takes a retro look at how fifties visionaires saw the future in 2000 A.D. Anyway, enough babbling: it's lunchtime, so it's on with the x-ray specs and onto the hoverboard and down to Pret-a-Danger for some vaccuum-packed moon food.

*Since my Travelogue blog has fallen asleep (I stopped travelling and started saving for a flat) and my straightforward PR blog has gotten gristly (there are too many PR blogs saying the same thing).