Friday, November 27, 2009

My special friend

As the regular readers of this blog will know (or would-be regular readers if I still regularly wrote), I have a special friend.

We began blogging around the same time and have developed a ‘special relationship’. A relationship built on mutual respect and admiration that has at times bordered on the homoerotic.

His name is Adland Suit.


Now everyone knows that account men spend all their time gadding about in tight trousers and pointy shoes talking loudly about how marvellous they are.

So it comes as a massive shock to see one doing something worthwhile.

He’s decided to give up his anonymity. And, worried that unveiling his true identity will be a crushing disappointment (and rightly so, I know who he is and he really is eye-wateringly dull) he’s decided to at least make some money for a good cause from it.

So here’s the plan. We all donate a couple of quid to Marie Curie and in exchange he’ll reveal himself. And buy us a beer. Plus, the biggest donator gets taken out for lunch (charged to one of his clients).

So come on people of adland, don’t delay, donate today!!!!!!

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Chowder sales are up

Now this is clever.

Ivar’s Seafood Restaurant in Seattle released a story about how its founder anchored billboards in the Sound back in the 1950s, in anticipation of people one day travelling by submarine and seeing their ads.

They then announced they were going to haul up the billboards (cue PR madness).


I guess the moral is, it’s okay to play a hoax on folks. Just make sue it's as clever as this. Apparently, chowder sales have quadrupled.

(I actually had this same idea, but with ads being written on balloons and released into the sky because people would one day travel by plane. I can see how maybe billboards underwater does work a bit better though.)

Found this story on The Denver Egotist.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Creative cleansing



Is it just me or is anyone else finding it increasingly difficult to get work through?

Presumably this is a result of the recession and clients being more cautious with their budget. Whatever it is, I’m finding I have to do increasingly demeaning and sordid things to sell stuff in.

It’s got so bad now that Mrs RMWLC always knows when I’m presenting work because I’ll leave the house in tight shorts and a low-cut top.

Which is fine except I’m beginning to wonder how much further I can go. Even as I type this I’m sat at my desk in nothing but a negligee and it’s well draughty I can tell you.

But those I present to are constantly baying for more, licking their lips then dropping pens on the floor and demanding I slowly pick them up going “oooh ahhh”.

So what’s the answer?

The more I think about it, the more I believe that this is a time when our industry needs a new breed of creative. One that is less focussed on the work and more focussed on pointing at it seductively and pouting.

You can see things are already going that way. Junior creatives today are at least 10% better looking than their counterparts from a couple of years ago. And students now are generally expected to include a few glamour shots in their books. Otherwise, how does the CD know what you’re capable of?

But is there an ugly side to the beautiful creative department?

Of course we're told there’s still a place for the old-fashioned ugly, talented creative in the modern agency. What they don't mention is that that place is generally dark and windowless.

Here at Partners, we use the bike storage facility. Briefs are simply slipped under the door and scamps are passed back a few hours later. Then, the more aesthetically-pleasing creatives can present the work and our creative Quasimodos can do their job without scaring clients or small children.

But I can't help worrying there's a price to all this. Once I lose my youthful good looks and my firm thighs have begun to sag, will I also be cast into the darkness? Anyone?

Thursday, November 12, 2009

If you like laughing at humour, you'll love this

I like having fun and laughing at humorous things. Maybe you do too?



I found this on Think Chimp which is also humorous.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Don’t flatter yourselves, Mortimer Street girls


Actually I was just looking out of the window because I was thinking and you happened to be in front of my eyes when I was staring.

Anyway I can still see you. Especially you on the right. I call you Phoebe because you're the fun, kooky one (like in Friends, gettit?)

Friday, November 6, 2009

How to get your brother in trouble

I came up with this little trick after one too many dead arms.

Whenever my brother did something to upset me, I figured out a way to make sure any punishment meted out by mum could be magnified tenfold.

Instead of running to mummy, I would actually HIDE my pain from her. (I know, it’s a little counter-intuitive but stay with me.)

I would go to the end of the garden and weep at the grave of Betty the hamster. (Betty my soul mate. Betty, the only one who ever really understood me. Betty who was snatched from me so young WHY?????)

I lurked at her graveside, knowing only too well that mum would see her little Davi-dums in distress and come to find out who had upset her special boy.

A little “Oh it’s nothing really” or “I’m sure he didn’t mean it” was all it took for mum to not only open an enormous can of whoopass, but shake the can violently beforehand.

Now I’m not saying I owe my brother anything.

But I would like to point you to these rather nice pictures he’s done on his iPhone.

Here are a couple of my favourites. See his new blog here. (I'll take 15% on any commissions, thank you.)









Thursday, November 5, 2009

Where this industry went wrong

Yesterday, because I had an awful lot of words to write, I decided to leave my glasses at home. As a result, I spent the day squinting at my computer screen as if it were the actual sun.

Oh how I yearned for yesteryear. You see there was a time, a happier time, when hacks like myself would simply handwrite their chosen clich├ęs for that day and give their scribblings to a secretary who would then type it up.

Which made me wonder, whatever happened to these typing angels? Were they all made redundant with the advent of the personal computer?

Well, a little research was very revealing. What in fact happened was, once their typing skills were no longer needed, these secretaries were increasingly asked to draw up the writer’s ideas.

Over the years, this role slowly evolved into what’s known today as Art Director.

‘So how did we end up with the shower of prima donnas and halfwits we have today?’ I hear you cry.

Well, as the first generation of secretaries retired, new art directors were recruited from art school under the misguided assumption they’d be better at drawing.

This had many drawbacks. Not only did this new crop bring with them massive egos and mediocre drawing skills, they also lacked the basic skills required to do their job – namely, making tea and answering the phone.

Which goes a long way to explaining the current malaise in the London ad industry. Whereas in other countries, industry institutions have addressed the issue and retrained art directors to make decent tea, D&AD has persisted with these ridiculous ‘art director workshops’ on typography or whatever.

As if that matters! Art direction really isn’t that complicated. Just get the photographer to take a nice picture then stick the headline in massive in a nice readable font like Times New Roman or Arial. Done.

Now go and make the tea and get it RIGHT this time.

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