Visit speed website Earlin' PR abuse home
December 21st, 2009 by Steve

Final top five of 2009: bad agency Christmas videos

Bah humbug. Actually these are surely in the festive spirit, given the boundless hilarity they give to viewers?

message

Send a card, make a donation, but do not attempt to be funny in front of a video camera. The result of an office poll of the worst agency Christmas videos:

1. Ogilvy. It had to be. Thankfully, given ’tis the season of goodwill, words fail me.

2. The Anthill Mob. And a wierd fake horse.

3. Wolfstar had us howling last year.

4. Lewis. Alright, at least you had the guts.

5. Shout, shout, let it all out; these are the things I can do without.

December 15th, 2009 by Steve

News of 2009: what cartoons offer over words

The persistent media guff and corporate puff that has laden the pages of our (increasingly free) press this year has, at least, been pretty consistent.

Amongst the phrases likely to have featured most often in the business pages and in quotes by business spokespeople this year are:
- Challenging economic climate
- Worsening economic outlook
- Unprecedented market conditions
- Tough trading environment
- Unpredictable cash forecasts

It’s grim, it’s real, but when we look back at 2009 in years to come, what content will really enable us to look through the lens at one of the worst years in corporate history and get a true perspective on how things were?

Cartoons could well be a useful ally. If you think packing something into a press release, media statement or 140 Twitter characters is challenging, doth thy cap to cartoonists, who often have to sum up global economic mood in a single hand-drawn image. And make us all laugh to boot.

This was something that particularly sprang to mind when press cartoonist Royston Robertson took on the challenge of conveying my family life for a bespoke Christmas card, abetted only by a short email from me with what my kids and wife are like and a snap from Google StreetView.

The result is a highly accurate insight into the Earl family home ahead of Christmas, preserved forever in black and white:

Christmas card 2009

PRs still commission far too few cartoons for clients. At a time when so much news is similar, it’s a great way to make a point poignantly and rise above the clutter.

December 10th, 2009 by Steve

2009: a year in PR (set to 1980s chart smashes)

Well, someone else is bound to do a load of social media jizzlists so I thought I’d be a bit original.

A list of 10 things that mark out 2009 as a funny old year in PR, as inspired by popular hit parade ‘toppers’ of the 1980s:

10. All those calls to clients to show that you care even more than usual about them, given persistent budget jitters (I Just Called To Say I Love You, Stevie Wonder)

9. Profits are thin, roll up thy sleeves and do whatever is necessary to fight through the turds (Just Like Starting Over, John Lennon)

8. The general state of the sector (Do You Really Want To Hurt Me, Culture Club)

7. Sweat and grind of the tooth ‘n’ nail fight to keep clients satisfied no matter what (Never Gonna Give You Up, Rick Astley)

6. Those rumours of which agencies are laying off the most staff (Careless Whisper, George Michael)

5. “We love you guys, but we just had our budgets cut by 100%” (Don’t Leave Me This Way, Communards)

4. The one in, one out charting of progression against the moderate growth plan (Every Loser Wins, Nick Berry)

3. “You’ve won the business, we’re not ready to start the work yet though” (Making Your Mind Up, Bucks Fizz)

2. That board meeting to formulate a 2010 business plan (The Only Way Is Up, Yazz & The Plastic Population)

1. “That which does not kill us makes us stronger” (When The Going Gets Tough The Tough Get Going, Billy Ocean)

December 8th, 2009 by Steve

Competitiveness: it’s in our blood; deal with it

santa
One of the many interesting things about being a parent with young kids is you notice how social norms have changed since you were at school in knee shorts (well, polyester trousers).

And the one factor that has jumped out at me above all others is that competition is not encouraged as it used to be. Some sports days have no winners, but prizes for all. There may be badges or medals for good work in the classroom, but they seem to be handed out liberally. It seems no child is made to feel like they’ve achieved above and beyond their peers lest the others feel dejected.

Competitiveness is not exactly frowned upon, but it does seem to have been dampened down and neatly put to one side.

So it was a tad ironic this morning – and personally highly pleasing – to see that the parents are as competitive as ever, elbows out and all. This is absolutely not an ode to pushy parenting, but a Christmas tale of how the spirit of competition came back, with a vengeance.

I went to my daughter’s infant nativity performance. Rumours had been circling amongst frequent school-runners for days about how parents outnumbered chairs in the school hall. Like military preparation for January sales, I set out early, confident of bagging a slot at the head of the queue so I could forge my may to the best seats (any seats) once the doors were opened.

And I was not alone. In the frenzy that ensued, the competitiveness of the parents was admirable. Body language, circling the prey before pouncing, diversion tactics, all and more were employed by the surging throng as strategy, rather than a cast of elves and reindeer, took centre stage.

Of course there were winners and losers. There were no prizes merely for taking part. Equally, it was a game played fairly and sportingly, and no serious injuries were reported.

And we all lived happily ever after.

Given that today’s schoolchildren may be entering the workplace during the next decade, the competitive streaks shown by parents – not least in getting them a school place in the first place – bodes well if they’re to learn from their elders. But if the prizes-for-all mentality is carried through schooling and into job interviews, there are going to be some very disappointed people around. The jobs market is a tough one, competition in business is ever-increasing, and employers need employees who are driven to achieve. That’s life, deal with it.

Meanwhile, in other Christmas news, my daughter recently announced that she had “won at prayers” at school that day. That’s the spirit.

December 4th, 2009 by Steve

Let us stem the stinking tide of Twilliteracy

I spend much of the day correcting colleagues’ English. Spelling and grammar in documents mostly, but also the spoken word.

So given Twitter is all about conversations, shouldn’t tweets aspire to the same levels of accuracy? Sadly, for too many of us, it seems not.

All too often those 140 maximum characters pay no heed to the need for capital letters, full-stops or even questionmarks. You can call me an anally-retentive saddo who should find something better to do. You can make a feeble point that technology has changed our linguistic needs and text messaging has embraced similar slackness for years, so why should Twitter make an effort? Interesting points, yet they do not detract from the important fact – I am right, and you are wrong.

So building on the Twitter editorial baiting stereotypes of a few weeks ago, let’s call this digital disease Twilliteracy. I’m claiming this as my own term because while there are a couple of other references to it already, they’re pretty limp efforts.

The traits of Twilliteracy I’ve seen litter ‘conversations’ are things like failing to capitalise properly.

Failing to use a questionmark for a question (therefore often rendering the prose a statement).

Using yoof spellings because you think it makes you look clever (silly if you are a youth, unforgiveable if you’re older).

Not using full-stops.

Failing to appreciate the difference between quotation marks and inverted commas.

Simply shit spelling.

I’ll stop now. But let me leave you with this thought: 140 characters is a wonderful opportunity for brevity and pointedness in copywriting. It is not an excuse for turning your already-probably-pretty-slack English into something of the lowest grade.

It’s a conversation, not the mumbling of morons.