tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-292417332024-03-13T18:14:17.000+00:00The Happy CommuterMusings of a rat race runnerAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.comBlogger140125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-52919564400011009782014-11-26T22:42:00.002+00:002014-12-12T16:59:41.988+00:00Why brands, and branding, have no place in politicsA correspondent took Jason Cowley, editor of The New Statesman, to task this week, for his use of the phrase "Labour's brand is still strong." He objected not to the statement's accuracy (although that is, following the past few months, highly dubious), but to the use of the term brand. "Political parties," he wrote, "used to have principles, not brands."<br />
<br />
My initial reaction was a hostile one - that the sentiment came from the outdated (and discredited) brand-as-logo school of thought. Surely the more holistic, modern definition of branding - a clear, concise and authentic distillation of the values, behaviours and experience provided by an organisation - is exactly what today's parties need, to re-engage and inspire apathetic voters who think "they're all the same." Mind you, take my own favourite definition of a brand - "a promise, kept" and it certainly doesn't seem appropriate to our politicians - eh, Mr Clegg?<br />
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Which party is currently hogging the limelight, the headlines and (in some places) the votes? It's UKIP, the only one that has succeeded in striking a simple, "authentic" tone, and possibly the only one that can be called a strong brand.<br />
<br />
Therein lies the rub. If Brand UKIP's success can be put down to the simplicity of its brand and message, is that really an example other parties should follow? Some might say yes, many brand experts among them (particularly, the cynic in me says, if there's money to be made).<br />
<br />
I say no.<br />
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Branding is about simplicity and clarity, and politics is neither simple, nor clear. Moreover, the electorate is so complex, and diverse, that trying to come up with simple, concise messaging with universal appeal is an exercise in futility. It explains why we end up with such vague and homogeneous promises from all the parties, appealing to universal desires like fairness, meritocracy and "choice" that they can neither substantiate, nor deliver. As the hierarchy of needs shows, we largely share the same basic drivers. The parties aim to appeal to those, without telling us how they might approach their fulfilment. Benefits, not features, the marketers say. But in politics, features do matter.<br />
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So, this is an appeal to brand practitioners to stay away from the politicians, and to the politicians to stop trying to be brands.<br />
<br />
To paraphrase one of the more famous examples of political marketing: branding isn't working.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-80621009508209970812014-09-08T22:46:00.000+01:002014-09-13T22:27:14.091+01:00Need to lose weight? Try commuting.Anyone who found themselves delayed, standing, or indeed both, on a busy commuter train this week may be consoled by a new study reported in the British Medical Journal, suggesting that people that use public modes of transport are thinner than those that use private means.<br />
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A study by "boffins" at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine has finally proven what I've been saying for years - commuting is good for you. The study assessed around seven and a half thousand individuals for BMI and percentage body fat. They found that both male and female "active commuters" (a definition covering walking, cycling and public transport) tended to have significantly lower BMI scores than those who drove.</div>
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With such sensationalism in reporting on the obesity issue, it's a useful reminder that exercise doesn't have to be extreme to do you good. It may not make headlines like the 5:2 diet, Zumba or streetdance, but your journey to work can have a real impact on your health, good or bad. Of course, with train fares set for another hike, joining a gym might end up looking cheap by comparison.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-17080870284285662572014-08-21T23:16:00.000+01:002014-08-22T09:41:59.398+01:00Why it's time to rethink "choice"I take a packed lunch to work most days. In part, that's because it's expensive to buy lunch in this city (and, indeed, most other places). But there is something else, too. There are so many options, before I've got as far as the end of the street, that selecting one takes more mental energy than I have spare in the tank, after a busy morning. I used to think it was just me that suffered from this choice-aversion. Now? I'm not so sure.<br />
<br />
The big news in the retail sector, where choice has always been the only option, is the rise and rise of the discounters. Aldi and Lidl now have 8% of the grocery market, and rising, while the Big 5 flounder from one ill-advised price cutting gambit to the next. They won't beat them at their own game, but what if it's the only game in town? The price is right, so come on down!<br />
<br />
When I first came into branding, the virtue of choice was received wisdom. Before "greedy" Andrew Lansley (to quote the viral song) and the great NHS privatisation push, there was Michael Howard, in opposition, banging on about giving more choice to patients - neglecting the fact that informed choice relies on knowledge, something which most patients (through no fault of their own) just don't possess.<br />
<br />
My wife and I sat down in front of the telly this evening, and I pulled up the Youview menu with its smorgasbord of televisual cheese. Neither of us could be bothered to choose, so we flicked back over to regular telly. Weren't we all supposed to be watching on-demand now? It was meant to be the death of advertising. But it's not happened. Faced with almost limitless choice, people have chosen to let the broadcasters make the appointments to view. <br />
<br />
Ironically, for a blog ostensibly about commuting, the one area of modern, mainstream, everyday life where consumers don't have a choice is on the rails, despite what the franchise model may promise. But that's okay, because it gives us no choice but to complain, and we Brits love a good moan, don't we? Which brings me back to the supermarkets.<br />
<br />
Look "below the line" at the newspaper articles reporting on the discounters' expanding market share and you'll see comments such as "Limited choice? No problem, less chance to waste money" and "few choices, honestly priced." It's counter-intuitive to marketers, but it seems that consumers actually want less choice. Why? Perhaps because they have too many other meaningful decisions to make. So, an (over)crowded shelf, stacked with brands offering essentially the same product in a slightly different pack doesn't really provide a choice at all.<br />
<br />
The rise of online shopping is well-documented, but the fact that its dominance increases when people are shopping for gifts less so. There are several considerations at play here - lower prices, lack of time, avoiding the shops at busy times - but it seems likely that the curated nature of online retail is surely a factor. Why spend ages on the High Street, agonsing over what to get a distant relative for Christmas, when Amazon, say, will make a selection for you based on a few vital statistics. It's bad news for sales of socks. <br />
<br />
It seems we may have finally reached the point where we have too much choice. There are so many big choices to be made, the people are looking to avoid the small ones.<br />
<br />
What does all this mean for businesses, and marketing in particular? Simplifying and streamlining may not be the answer. Those businesses that have been big news this year - the likes of Uber and Airnb - are offering something genuinely different. How does that work for a product sitting on a supermarket shelf? Innovation, not NPD, is the answer - innovation that starts with in-depth customer insight, and translates that into a genuine benefit, that offers the user not just more choice, but better choice.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-6376404547635865352013-11-24T21:32:00.000+00:002013-11-25T13:15:26.546+00:00For a man called Brand, Russell's Revolution shows a lack of marketing nousI remain in two minds about The New Statesman's Brand-edited edition. For a magazine that can usually be relied upon for intelligent debate and factual analysis, it felt alarmingly close to satire, and I get Private Eye for that. It did generate a lot of publicity, from both ends of the political spectrum - it can't be often that TNS attracts the attention of the Torygraph.<br />
<br />
Russell's essay was readable, certainly, if only because his prose flows like a babbling brook on a warm Summer's day. What he, and his various respondents, failed to do, was to suggest an alternative to the failed democratic model he decried and disavowed. Brand's position appears fatalistic - democracy is broken, the young feel disengaged, and the powers-that-be don't care. His solution . . . well, he doesn't really have one, beyond recalling Billy Connolly's joke "Don't vote, it just encourages them." <br />
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His critics' response can be summed up as "Put your money where you mouth is" - suggesting that Brand abandon his hedonistic Hollywood lifestyle, return home and run for public office. <br />
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Except that isn't where his mouth is, is it? <br />
<br />
Robert Webb's injunction to "read some fucking Orwell" certainly did read well, but again, doesn't really address the central tenet. Webb went straight out and "rejoined the Labour Party" before taking to the pages of The New Statesman to list New Labour's Progressive achievements, from the minimum wage onwards. Personally I don't disagree with him. But if the point is that young (and older) people feel disengaged, and disenfranchised, by party politics, throwing it back in their faces isn't going to change their minds. The last twenty years have seen new social, economic and media paradigms emerge, and be enthusiastically embraced by Generation Y. Should politics be any different?<br />
<br />
In this, I believe Brand's "revolution" shows the value of a good marketing strategy. <br />
<br />
I'm wary of invoking "the power of the market" to cure every ill - just look at what it's doing to healthcare. But Porter's five competitive forces of any market include "threat of substitutes" - perfectly illustrated by the old (and possibly apocryphal) Parker Pens story. The one where the Marketing guy says "We're not competing with other pen makers. We're competing with the entire executive gift category, everything from Filofaxes to the complete works of Dilbert."<br />
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If you apply Porter's model to British politics, the absence of substitutes is keenly felt. Both the suppliers and the "buyers" (voters) are locked in an uneasy circle of diminishing returns. UKIP typifies the threat of New Entrants. "Threat of substitutes" is the one big hole in the competitive picture, and I believe that this failure to offer a reasonable alternative democratic option is holding the system back. Proportional Representation, and of course the dead duck that was the AV Referendum, were the nearest we got. But it's at a local level that people "feel" politics, but at a national one that they "see" it. Infrastructure, policing, traffic, parking - these are the issues that affect voters on a day-to-day basis. I'd never pick up the phone to my local MP (Peter Lilley) because he's a toxic Tory. Likewise, I'm unlikely to join a political party of any stripe, because of the confrontational model they represent.<br />
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It's party politics that needs a proper rebrand, not the parties themselves. Until that happens, these political comics are just having a laugh.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-90349769285711390362013-09-11T10:00:00.000+01:002013-09-19T15:08:47.353+01:00My own Rickie Lambert moment<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Rickie Lambert’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Boys’
Own</i> rise to the status of England’s saviour may owe a fair bit to fortune
(or, at least, the misfortunes of others – Rooney, Welbeck, Sturridge, and one
might argue, Roy Hodgson), but there’s no doubt it’s a stirring reminder that,
even in today’s money-mad, largely predictable game, the unexpected can still
happen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To compare very (very) small
things to great, it brings to mind my own fairytale footballing moment, when,
from nowhere, I was presented with a golden opportunity to put years of
mediocrity behind me, and write my name across a tournament.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The tournament in question was the Mad.co.uk five-a-side
championships, a one-day event for the media and marketing industries. It was March,
2002. Arsenal were on their way to the Double, prompting Sir Alex to postpone
retirement. England was awash with the joy of Becks, after that late free kick
against Greece that had secured World Cup qualification. Nobody, outside of the
medical profession, had heard of the metatarsal bone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was in my first job out of University, as a glorified
telesales person, helping advertising agencies to get meetings with minimally
influential people from the marketing world. After some cajoling, and a few
midweek training sessions, we had assembled a team to compete against the best
our glamorous industry had to offer. I was captain, inspiration, and on the
bench. Our team contained a former Sunday league player, and two
ex-professionals, one of whom even featured in 1990s computer game Sensible
World of Soccer. By contrast, I had been described, by one uncharitable
observer, as the worst footballer in the world (and he was a Middleborough supporter,
lending his opinion of crap players some weight). I had arranged our
participation, hence my elevated status within the squad – but there was no way
I was going to get in the starting five. I am under five and a half feet tall,
so I couldn’t even justify picking myself in goal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of our ex-professionals had procured some bespoke kit
for us, a striking yellow jersey, combined with blue shorts. From the waist up,
it was a little bit like watching Norwich City, albeit at a particularly low
ebb in their history. From the sidelines, I could summon up the spirit of Jamie
Cureton, the striker who scored with his first touch for the Canaries after
coming on as a sub. The tournament kicked off without me, and we breezed through
our early group games, our veteran brigade defying aging legs and creaking
knees to score some tasty goals, and our hastily-recruited goalie (a ringer
from outside the company – like one of those overage players in the Olympics)
even saving a penalty. I paced on the touchline, biding my time, awaiting my
chance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That chance finally arrived in our final group game, when I
was able to get on the field, with our passage already secured. In fairness to
myself, I must point out that I had already played in our second group match,
and even claimed the assist for the opening goal, before being substituted for
kicking one too many opponents (I get a touch of small man syndrome when
playing football). Nonetheless, it was in this climactic match in the group
stage, that my chance for goalscoring glory finally arrived. Charging forward
to support a quick breakaway, I headed for the far post, as my good friend Tony
hared down the wing. As he rolled an immaculate low cross into my path, I drew
back my bright green Diadora astroturf boot, as our ex-professionals roared
their encouragement from the touchline, and took aim.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We reached the final of that tournament, though I can’t
claim much personal credit, where we came up against a client, and lost
one-nil. Probably for the best. I got a round of applause from “the lads” for
organising everything. But the team never played together again. The recession
hit, and we couldn’t get the money to enter in 2003. The company then fell
apart, as various people left. Most of them turned up for my Stag Day, a week after
the tournament, which began with a game of football that wasn’t allowed to
finish until I’d scored. These days, I’m playing a few times a month, and
rather better than I used to. Tony’s doing very well for himself, too – MD of a
flashy digital agency, and playing hockey for Staines. So maybe there’s a
lesson for Rickie Lambert – even a fairytale moment doesn’t have to be the very
pinnacle of one’s career. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And my own Cinderella moment? I swung my left foot, missed
completely, and ended up on my arse. Not all fairy tales have a happy ending,
after all. Good luck Rickie. You deserve it. End of story.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-84097339294659638712013-08-17T22:26:00.002+01:002013-08-17T22:26:39.984+01:00Is the "Right" Fracking Up?I don't know about the rest of you, but I for one am really enjoying this fracking debate., purely because it has shattered the unity of the right wing, whose ascendancy in the past few years has seemed so unstoppable. Having largely prevailed in the economic discourse since 2008, and with UKIP's (admittedly overstated) rise seeming to show that they have gained the upper hand in that most contentious of arguments, that over EU membership, it seemed that the cosy certainties of small "c" conservatism were set to dominate the national agenda. Energy, however, remains the Achilles Heel of conservative ideology. Put simply, if you want things the way they've always been, what happens when you absolutely have to change? <br />
<br />
Previously, the only real alternative to traditional forms of power generation (discounting the Nuclear option, which would surely be even more contentious than the fracking issue) could be easily label "leftie." Suddenly, this has been shaken up (pun intended) by the emergence of (allegedly)earthquake-inducing fracking as a viable option. And suddenly you've got hordes of homeowners from the traditional Tory heartlands of the South East joining forces with environmental activists to stage direct action against Big Energy and Big Government.<br />
<br />
In the Big Issue this week (buy a copy - it's worth it) there is a feature on so-called Nimby-ism, in which one resident of Balcombe labels herself a Lamby ("Looking After My Back Yard"). This may make her seem a bit selfish (what about everyone else's back yards?), but it does underline the problem the Right is going to face as it tries to manage a stark conflict between two of its dearest causes - generating profit, and maintaining the status quo.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-8503761751211355392012-11-03T14:04:00.000+00:002012-11-03T14:04:12.454+00:00Fairground Attaction<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; tab-stops: 6.0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My wife and I took our two boys to a
funfair. We chose a roundabout for their first ride. Our youngest burst into
tears. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We introduced them to candy floss, a delicacy that failed to
impress him. I bought a toffee apple instead, and he painted his pushchair with
sticky pink goo (some of it might have gone in his mouth, too).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finally, we called at a hook-a-duck stall, and they both had
a bash, before picking a prize from an arsenal of plastic firearms. We felt
they were too young for semi-automatic weapons, so got them a gun that fired
nothing more lethal than bubbles. It later turned out not to work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was time to leave, an unpopular decision. We made our way
home half-dragging, half-carrying two screaming boys. So much for the fun of
the fair!</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-87638289855906791022012-10-05T14:22:00.003+01:002012-10-05T20:54:29.408+01:00Arrested Development - or How Local Politics Works<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">North Herts District Council’s decision to sign over the
development of Hitchin town centre to self-styled “property solutions” firm
Simons, on a 250-year, lease
may not just be against the will of local people – but also against the law! In
its Summer newsletter, local body Hitchin Forum notes that the original OJEU
tender made a clear distinction between “enhancement” and “development” – and
identified specific areas marked for each – with the intention of preserving as
much of the historic character of the town as possible. However, the Council’s
Leader, Lynda Needham, has now penned a letter to local people, rewriting history by
claiming that the plan has always been full-scale development.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Local Conservative Councillor David Leal-Bennett is talking
tough, announcing that is time for Simons “to put up or pull out” but his Tory
chums don’t seem to share his views, refusing to respond to FOI requests from
Hitchin Forum about the deal. The sorry saga has been prolonged because Simons
says it is feeling the effects of the recession – and because the key
Churchgate area (“Area 1”) remains leased to another firm, Hammersmatch
Properties. Now Hammersmatch has come up with a new proposal for Churchgate
which could derail t</span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">he Council’s schemes
and see Simons walk away completely – seven years on from signing the deal!
Such a waste of time and money would be an embarrassing irony for a Council
which boasts, in its own Summer newsletter, on resisting “the extravagance of
the previous government.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The nub of the issue is concern over the impact of development
on ten-thousand year-old St Mary’s Church, The splendid view of the church from
the main traffic route on Queen Street, and the residential properties around
it – highlighted in the Planning Brief and therefore protected by EU Law - would
be ruined by Simon’s plans to usher in another God, Mammon, by building a department
store in front of it on St Mary’s Square (“Area 4”). As Andrew Wearmouth of
Hitchin Forum wearily points out, “if the Council approves a scheme that does
not comply with the Planning Brief and the OJEU advert, it seems that it will
be breaking EU Law on two separate counts.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The efforts, of local residents and businesses, to prevent
Hitchin becoming a “clone town” continue, but received a further blow with the
arrival, in another part of town, of . . . Tesco. Treble Clubcard points all
round!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-91979991601212111562012-08-07T21:47:00.000+01:002012-08-09T14:24:32.401+01:00Reflections on my GrandpaLast Monday would have been my beloved grandfather's 100th birthday. Gramp, as he will forever be known to his four doting grandchildren, died at the age of 89, a few months before my wedding. His children, my Mum and her sister, organised a small family gathering to mark the occasion. I took my two little boys across to Windsor Great Park, a place that meant a lot to him in later life, to meet up with my sister and her baby, our eldest cousin with her twin teenagers, and our parents. <br />
<br />
The twins were 3 when Gramp died, so barely knew him, whilst for my own children he exists only in photgraphs. With this in mind, it was never likely to be a day of reminiscing. In fact, kept busy by my boys, I barely mentioned him, although I was aware of ebbs and flows in conversation around me. In one way it felt like a dereliction, but in another sense it was reminder that we must always move forward even as we look back. Fittingly, my new nephew shares his middle name with Gramp, just as my own eldest son's middle name is taken from my Dad's father, whom I never met.<br />
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Victor Angel Jones was born in 1912, as Europe neared war. His uncle died at The Somme, and one of the few childhood memories he shared with me was of his father returning from the trenches - and playing Meccano with his oblivious six year old. Leaving school at 13, he had a flair for science and engineering. Of Jewish descent, his parents had changed the family name from Jacobs to Jones. As the Second World War approached, he was involved in a mission to smuggle Jewish scientists out of Nazi Germany, culminating in a terrifying train journey across Europe, bearing two evacuees with false papers, while Stormtroopers patrolled the train. Half a century later, with his car wheel-clamped outside Hyde Park, he conducted another exciting escape, having cut across the park to find it locked, scaling the fence - this was a man in his late seventies - to bring us a takeaway curry.<br />
<br />
During the war, Gramp served as an engineer, developing new technologies such as radar, submarines, planes. In later life, his reminiscences became a source of amusement, particularly the famous tale of how on returning from test flights, he would have the pilot "waggle his wings" to let my Grandmother know he was coming home for tea. Thus he made light of the horrors of war. He loved Dad's Army.<br />
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He hated Superman IV - The Quest for Peace, to which I dragged him when it came out in the mid-80s, abhorring the way it made light of violence. At the time I thought he was being silly - even if I was too young to appreciate the symbolism of Nuclear Man's demise providing enough power to light up Metropolis. I often wish I could have explained it to him, but it probably wouldn't have changed his mind. And it was a crap film anyway.<br />
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Like many young boys, I had countless adventures with my grandfather. The fact that we shared a certain tendency to absent-mindedness lent a frisson of excitement to our excursions - my mother never quite knew which possessions we might mislay next. Memorable examples included Gramp's car, which we manage to lose for the best part of afternoon in a Staines car park, whilst we explored the car park next door, and his address book, which we posted one year along with his Christmas cards.<br />
<br />
When I got my first job in London after University, I was still based in Leicester, commuting most days, but every other week I went to stay with him in Golders Green. So I was able to see him regularly through the last six months of his life, a piece of serendipity for which I will always be grateful. <br />
<br />
I have been wanting to write about him ever since, about how the same ingenuity and spirit that enabled him to rescue condemned men from the Nazis, or drive across London in the Blitz, was in later life put to use protecting pilau rice, or devising a pulley system to retrieve a toy from behind the radiator. <br />
<br />
Where did a decade go?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-87347746204130448302012-06-26T22:19:00.001+01:002012-06-26T22:19:17.057+01:00My (pre-Euro tournament) letter to the FAStrangely prescient, as it turned out. Maybe now we've been knocked out he'll get round to replying.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear Mr Bevington</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">May I begin by congratulating you
on the appointment of the new England Manager, Mr Hodgson – a fine man with a
proven track record of leading average international teams to the second round
of major tournaments.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Following Chelsea’s historic
Champion’s League victory in Munich, and the sudden appearance of a spectator,
in full match kit, at the trophy presentation to lift the famous cup, I am
writing to ask if there is any chance I might be allowed to lift the Henri
Delaunay Cup next month, should England be victorious? </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Like John Terry, I have always
wanted to lift a prestigious international sporting trophy, ever since I was a
small boy accustomed to the bitter taste of defeat in egg-and-spoon races at
Sports Day.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Should this prove impossible to
arrange (I realise that, as a Scouser, Steven Gerrard may be sensitive to the
notion of letting anyone else near his silverware), are you able to wield any
influence over the presentation of the Olympic football medals, or do I need to
write to LOCOG?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many thanks in advance for your
assistance in this matter. I look forward to hearing from you.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">God (or the alternative religious
or civil authority appropriate to your culture and belief system) for Roy,
England, and St George!</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yours sincerely.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jeremy Davies <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-86853778571888809182012-06-08T17:28:00.000+01:002012-06-11T11:56:16.981+01:00Here's my Sitting and Thinking PlaceThat was the title of a song from a Beatrix Potter tape I used to listen to when I was a kid. It came back to me on a recent train journey from Cambridge to Ipswich for a meeting. Chugging past fields and rolling pastures, with no reception on mobile communication devices, it struck me how liberating it can be to be incommunicado for a little while. Alone with my thoughts, I had a chance to get them in order, as well as just having the chance to take in my surroundings and observe my fellow passengers.<br />
<br />
News that London's Underground network is to be connected to the WWW via Virgin Media's wifi wizardry will no doubt be hailed as a great breakthrough for business in the capital, where the famously "Always on" economy will no longer have to include the disclaimer "Always on except while you're on the Tube" - with associated boosts to productivity, working hours, GDP and the rest. But is this really a good thing?<br />
<br />
Quite apart from the mental strain of living such relentless lives (26.4 million working days lost to stress-related illnesses last year), there is the simple fact that everybody, at whatever level of an organisation or walk of life, simply needs time to think. As the string of high-profile business collapses shows, we work in such a knife-edge economy that the slightest mis-step or bad executive decision can have calamitous commercial effects, and considerable knock-on effects for businesses elsewhere in the supply chain (think of the collapse of Zavvi, or Clinton Cards).<br />
<br />
At a time when companies are pumping money into creating sleep pods, breakout rooms and thought spaces, in an effort to provide some thinking time, it seems crackers to take away one free outlet already available.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-75220941173994666712012-04-16T22:23:00.002+01:002012-04-16T22:30:40.650+01:00Who (Mother)cares how the story ends?"Apart from the obvious, how important are fathers to you?"<br />
<br />
Five years ago, I was an expectant father, a face in the crowd at the Marketing Society Retail Forum, listening to recently-departed Mothercare CEO Ben Gordon, holding forth on the secret of Mothercare's success. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but even at the time, there were one or two comments that should have set alarm bells ringing. First was his apparently relaxed attitude towards their customers - "75% of expectant mothers come to us" - the unspoken assumption being that they would continue to do so, indefinitely.<br />
<br />
During the Q&A that followed, I raised my hand, and asked him about fathers. I admit that the phrasing of the question got a few laughs, although that really wasn't the point of it. As a nervous dad-to-be looking to define my role in future family life, I was genuinely interested in how the country's best-known parenting retailer viewed me. His response was distinctly unsatisfactory - guys sometimes played around the pushchairs and other gadgets, apparently. There was nothing about emotional need states, long-term customer loyalty, or any of the customer insight that other big retailers, from supermarkets to DIY chains, displayed.<br />
<br />
The recent announcement of the closure of 111 stores is the latest sign of a business that has lost touch with its community. 75 Early Learning Centres are to go, which, considering that education is in crisis, seems both apt and sad. They only bought ELC about seven years ago, of course. As a member of the ELC Big Baby Club, I've been getting regular emails about toy sales and massive reductions for the past two years. Was that based on prior purchase behaviour, customer insight or just because they had my email address?<br />
<br />
I've been to see Mothercare several times over the past few years. The tone of each conversation has gradually shifted from breeezy confidence to nail-biting uncertainty, as an organisation that fixed its gaze on distant horizons suddenly woke up and smelled the rot at home. Daft stories like the global pig removal from the Happyland farm set, because it was inappropriate for the growth markets in the Middle East, illustrated the problems of trying to micro-manage a global brand from Watford. Meanwhile, on the home front, the brand continued to talk at everyone, even as the opportunities to engage in conversation multiplied.<br />
<br />
Most of the parents I talk to agree that the biggest problem with Mothercare stores is lack of stock. Slimming down the estate may help the company to get the right numbers to the right stores. But the challenge is to make people fall in love with the brand. It shouldn't be difficult, but when did they last do any advertising? Engaging on Gurgle, or even with Mumsnetters, isn't going to drive traffic. All the supermarkets advertise, and it's not as if they struggle for footfall.<br />
<br />
Family services are being cut, kids are getting fatter, and our High Streets are in danger of extinction. If ever there was an opportunity for a well-known retailer to start giving its community what they need, not what it wants, it is surely now. If the story of the next decade is to be gradual recovery of the country's towns, then Mothercare seems an ideal protagonist.<br />
<br />
Mothercare should know better than most businesses the power of a good storty, yet is reluctant to tell its own. If there is to be a happy ending, it needs to get narrating. Othwerse the tale could turn out very Grimm indeed. The Big Bad Wolf is puffing.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-72071467969779556542012-03-19T20:29:00.003+00:002012-03-19T20:48:50.004+00:00Syndic-ationLike many guys my age, I spent some time in my mid- to late-teens absorbed in a computer game called Syndicate. Set in the future, the premise behind it was that, with nation states no longer in existence, faceless corporations had achieved world domination, and controlled vast swathes of the globe using mind control and, where necessary, heavily-armed cyborgs in trenchcoats.<br />
<br />
It was announced recently that Syndicate is being remade and updated for the twenty-first century gamer. This coincides with the news that Peter Molyneaux, former top geek at Bullfrog, the company behind the original, is leaving Microsoft to pursue his latest venture. Giddy with nostalgic glee at the memories these blasts from the past stirred within me, I found myself pondering whether we are closer, twenty years on, to the reality depicted in Syndicate, in this technologically-augmented age.<br />
<br />
The nation state remains very much with us of course. But faceless, manipulative corporations? One notable trend that runs counter to this fear is the rise to prominence of the corporate brand. Unilever is one that is particularly notable, always aligning the corporate entity with the brand or product, from Lynx to Hellmans. I noticed on the latest Dulux TV ad that Akzo Nobel has followed suit.<br />
<br />
It is an interesting move, reflecting a general shift towards accountability in the post-Enron era. Does it make a difference to consumer purchase decisions? Is the Lynx effect stronger for the association with Unilever? Possibly, but also it reflects the importance of reputation to the investors and shareholders to whom those at the top of these businesses ultimately report. To echo recent comments by Paul Polman, Unilever's top man, about how fragile brand constructs look in the wake of the Arab Spring (and, by the by, isn't Vodeafone's "Power To You" slogan just a tad ironic given what happened to them in Egypt?) a bad rep can wipe out a company's share price (look what happened to BP). This can very quickly send the Masters of the Universe to the dole queue (again, look what happened to BP).<br />
<br />
There are still plenty of shady corporate entities about of course - but this growing trend towards bringing them into the glare of public scrutiny augurs well for a future where they are at least less obscure. And hopefully less likely to send trenchcoated cyborgs to enforce their KPIs.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-60700065692516145552012-02-15T20:51:00.000+00:002012-02-15T20:51:07.824+00:00Happy Commuter hits the roadWell, that was a bit of a shock to the system. After ten years commuting by train, and four months on foot (downstairs to my office), I've got me an exciting new client, to whom I need to drive. For the next few months I will be up early once a week to motor down the A1 to North London. Vroom vroom!<br />
<br />
Still, I'm lucky enough to have a fairly new Skoda Yeti to get me there - complete with fully-functioning (i.e. as yet untouched by four-year-old) car radio. The legendary "Today" programme on Radio 4 kept me company on the way there. Liza Tarbuck on Radio 2 entertained me on my journey home. I really am bang on my demographic aren't I?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-41895569838822561332012-01-04T21:59:00.002+00:002012-01-04T22:12:25.174+00:00The Power of WordsIt is a wry coincidence that the eventual conviction of two men in the Stephen Lawrence murder case rightly dominates the front pages whilst the Luis Suarez saga is splashed all over the back pages. Obviously the two incidents are nothing like comparable, but what their confluence does demonstrate is that, whatever the truth behind Suarez's motivation, his words are the thin end of a very nasty wedge.<br />
<br />
Considering that footballers can get banned for three games for pretty much breaking an opponent's bones, an eight match suspension for alleged comments to a member of the other team might at first glance seem excessive. When the furore over the sexist comments of ex-Sky Sports duo Richard Keys and Andy Gray kicked off (pardon the pun) last year, the consensus amongst the people at Appetite, where I then worked, was "it's political correctness gone mad." Much of the office banter was essentially offensive, but was all light-heartedly meant, so no harm done eh? I did argue the thin-end-of-the-wedge case at the time, but it's hard to connect "locker room bravado" with domestic violence, prostitution or any of the darker shades of chauvinism from the comfort of a West End office.<br />
<br />
More surprisingly, it was a similar story, at a different company, when the treatment of Shilpa Shetty on Celebrity Big Brother was in the news five years ago. Now apart from suggesting that the design industry isn't a particularly diverse one, what this does demonstrate is that many people are blissfully unaware of the tremendous power of words. Today's throwaway insult is tomorrow's newspaper headline. It's insidious. It isn't far from there to the playground, the workplace. And if a word is repeated often enough it acquires emotional resonance, and what began as a throwaway remark becomes something much more harmful.<br />
<br />
The design business is understandably obsessed with the power of the image, but it's hardly unique, so whatever you do and wherever you work, it is worth being aware of the potency of language. As the race for the White House gets underway once more, who can forget the most powerful tools in the kit that swept Obama to power unforgettably in 2008? Those three little words - Yes. We. Can.<br />
<br />
Words beget attitudes, and attitudes beget behaviour. That is why it is right to condemn and even punish those who use words to abuse.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-44110996130449693402011-11-11T16:42:00.002+00:002011-11-12T13:41:29.522+00:00Remembrance at the checkoutGiven the date, I thought I'd share with you all a tale of Remembrance Day past that, in my opinion, encapsulates the significance of the occasion (and is also, I think, in it's own way, darkly amusing).<br />
<br />
Four or five years back, The Wife and I were doing our weekly supermarket shop on a Sunday which happened to be Remembrance Day. Come 11am, the announcement came over the PA that the store would fall silent for a couple of minutes as we paid our collective respects.<br />
<br />
A hush descended, broken only by the odd cough and a few whimpering infants. <br />
<br />
How did the retailer choose to mark the end of this period of reflection? The Last Post? The National Anthem? A round of applause? No, the most solemn two minutes of the year was instead brought to a close with a cheery "Thank you for shopping at Tesco."<br />
<br />
The odd thing was, they had probably agonised over this, and somebody somwhere had concluded that it was the right thing to say.<br />
<br />
On further reflection it seemed almost apt - a reminder of exactly what was won all those many years ago, in Flanders Fields and on the beaches of Normandy, and what Our Boys, as The Sun refers to them, are dying for today. The freedom to shop.<br />
<br />
Makes you think, doesn't it?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-42536521218920923482011-11-04T20:36:00.000+00:002011-11-04T20:36:14.405+00:00Premier Foods and the Premier LeagueSince the phrase "credit crunch~" burst into our collective consciousness in 2008, high profile business stories have tended to be those in which the public has a genuine stake, such as state-owned banks, or outsourcing firms that are perceived to be making money off the taxpayer. Of course, an industry that has both suffered from, and seemed somehow immune to, the effectsd of the financial crisis has been football, especially in the surreal world of the Premier League. <br />
<br />
One of the most interesting stories of the past five years, has actually been that of another Premier, Premier Foods. Up until the mid-noughties, the company was interesting enough, home to such brands as Ambrosia, Branston and Lloyd Grossman. They made headlines with bold moves such as launching Branston Beans, reckoned briefly by some commentators to pose a serious threat to Heinz in that category. They were interesting, sure, even exciting at times, but no cause to hold the front page.<br />
<br />
But then a guy called Robert Schofield took over and went on an acquisition spree that would make even the big spenders of the Premier League dizzy.<br />
<br />
Rival RHM was first - bringing well-known brands such as Bisto, Sharwoods, Robertsons and Hovis into the fold. It was a seismic step, operationally and brand-wise. It was a genuine case of eating the Big Fish. And no sooner had we rubbed our eyes and absorbed that, then Mr Schofield went out and bought another Big Fish in Campbell's, adding the likes of OXO, Fray Bentos and Batchelors to a bloated portfolio. One wondered how on Earth they were going to make a success of brands that seemed for the most part to be competing with each other. And where was the money coming from?<br />
<br />
Well, now we know. The company is in trouble, its famous names not enough to protect it from its massive debts, and Robert Schofield is off, leaving an unwieldy mess behind him, having reached for the stars and come crashing back to Earth. Sound familiar? Well, it bears a striking resemblance to the fate of many of of our famous football clubs - Leeds United and Portsmouth spring to mind. But there are still plenty of others riding the crest of a debt-fuelled wave.<br />
<br />
Obviously it's strange comparing Baked Beans and Bisto to Balotelli and Tevez - but perhaps this tale from a more prosaic world should give the Billionnaires of Man City pause for thought.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-15238429524029054882011-10-05T22:02:00.004+01:002011-10-06T09:45:26.855+01:00It's not what you say, it's the way that you tell 'emOn Monday night I went to a stand-up comedy gig at The Hope & Anchor in Islington (Plug Alert - I'm due to perform there in two weeks). The line up contained no household names (outside of their own households, that is) but the gags were good, the crowd was lively if small, and nobody said anything too offensive. One act, though, made a profound impression on me - a stand-up comedian who told no jokes, yet got the biggest laughs of the night. <br />
<br />
At the start of the second half, the compere, Rich (we're that close), called forth one Dr Brown. Suddenly, a hirsute apparition in bermuda shorts and chest wig bounded up on to the stage. "Yeah!" he cried, "is everyone having a good time?" We all hollered our assent, as one does, and when he repeated the question the response was the same, only perhaps a little louder. Again he inquired as to whether we were enjoying our evening, and again we replied, as one, with a loud chorus of whoops and hollers. And so it went on. And on. And on. And on.<br />
<br />
"You want some more?" he eventually asked. Hell yeah. The cheering continued, and Dr Brown started singling out individual members of the congregation (and I use that term deliberately) to share in the approbation. "What about this guy?" he would say, and we would cheer even more. He then implored us to take our clothes off.<br />
<br />
The guys he had picked out felt compelled to play along, but audience participation appeared to reach its limit when Dr Brown removed his shorts, serving chiefly to remind us that Autumn had arrived.<br />
<br />
Then Dr he began chasing the two semi-naked guys around the room, trying to remove their undergarments. By this time, we were rolling in the aisles.<br />
<br />
Eventually, he thanked us all, put his shorts on, and left. Apparently, he is a Children's TV presenter. <br />
<br />
The next act came on, told some jokes. But the energy had gone from the room. We just couldn't get going again. What does this tell us about comedy? Nothing.<br />
<br />
What does it tell us about communication? It's a two-way thing. Put your message out there in an engaging way, and let your audience join in.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-73886534907209428662011-08-04T22:40:00.003+01:002011-08-05T09:55:09.993+01:00The Tooth, The Whole ToothIt may just be that I have been watching more telly of late (The Wife has been feeding her Soap Opera habit) but I do seem to have come across more than the usual number of toothpaste commercials. One effort in particular caught my eye, with the remarkable claim that since, like an iceberg, only one third of a tooth is visible, twice-daily brushing only does a third of the job. <br />
<br />
Even those of you who have not seen the advertisement in question will know exactly what is coming next. Use this toothpaste, it suggests, and by some magical power it will clean the root below the gum - that is, the tooth, the whole tooth and nothing but the tooth. Now I'm sure there is science to support this (I'd never dream of accusing advertisers of being economical with the too-, sorry, truth). But it does strike me as odd that every time there's a new toothpaste ad the makers feel the need to create some sort of value added concept to augment the basic benefit that it will taste nice, leave your breath smelling okay, and stop your teeth from rotting from all that chocolate you eat.<br />
<br />
A couple of years back there was a rash of ads promoting a toothbrush featuring a textured "tongue brush" on the reverse which could be used to clean the bacteria from one's tongue (where 75% of the wee bugs in your mouth can be found). Presumably this was based on the "insight" that many of us had been doing this for years anyway (I started after watching an episode of Muppet Babies in which Kermit brushes his), and as such there was an untapped need from which they could make some extra money. It may also have been related to the rise of the electric toothbrush, which of course does not offer the same facility, as if you try to brush your tongue with an electric toothbrush your taste buds will be shredded.<br />
<br />
It's a stark contrast to the marketing of other "grooming" products such as deoderant, razors and shampoo, all of which focus on crafting a story around the brand rather than blinding the consumer with science. One thinks of the Lynx Effect or Dove's "Real Women."<br />
<br />
My main problem with the toothpaste approach is not that it doesn't work (I'm sure it does), but that it seems to me a ridiculous stance. Because surely if we've all been doing it so wrong all these years, and cleaning only a small part of dental kit, why have they not all fallen out? Why am I not surrounded by people with mouths full of fillings and false teeth?<br />
<br />
It can't all be down to the fact that my dentist takes NHS patients.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-85274614590700203532011-06-21T14:48:00.002+01:002011-06-21T14:48:19.438+01:00My letter to First Capital Connect Customer ServicesTo whom it may concern<br />
<br />
I have just submitted a Delay Repay compensation claim following the disruption to the 18:10 London Kings Cross - Peterborough service yesterday.<br />
<br />
Details of the refund amount were not featured on the web site, but I received an email confirming that my "rail replacement vouchers" would shortly be dispatched - no mention of the amount. After a quick call to customer service, I have managed to establish that for delays under one hour (mine was approximately 45 minutes) I will receive a refund for half of the cost of that leg of the journey.<br />
<br />
Given that an single Anytime fare for that journey is £13.50, I take it that I will be receiving a voucher worth the princely sum of £6.75.<br />
<br />
Since I pay monthly (as of this year more than £300 per month) for the privilege of not getting a seat on your peak time services, this will be of little practical use to me, unless I start a collection of such vouchers and save up until such time as I have been accumulated enough hours' delay to fund a full return tip to work.<br />
<br />
I am almost afraid to ask, but is there a deadline on the use of the voucher? Like, for example, the end of the week that it is issued? If you give me advance notice I shall be able to plan a trip to Letchworth, or perhaps Stevenage, in order to ensure that I extract full benefit from your generosity.<br />
<br />
Please give my regards to the shareholders.<br />
<br />
Yours faithfully.<br />
<br />
JeremyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-82541530130018851562011-05-27T13:45:00.006+01:002011-05-30T22:28:20.901+01:00Why this ice cream story's got me hot under the collarSometimes, the day job throws up stories that are just too compelling to ignore. The coming together of Beechdean Farmhouse Dairy Ice Cream with that "iconic" (a phrase often ascribed to famous brands that no one buys anymore) Loseley is one such story, the more for me because it is tinged with a very personal poignancy.<br /><br />My previous company had worked on a comprehensive redesign of the Loseley brand at the time it was purchased by Hill Station, one of the several proprietors to have tried, and failed, to restore the brand to its former glory. On joining, one of my first actions was to contact Beechdean, whose packaging - a mish-mash of badly-executed ideas - I had come across in the supermarket.<br /><br />I went to meet Andrew, the owner, at a major industry event at London's Excel. One thing led to another and before long we were working on packaging design for the brand's newest product. We produced some good concepts, built up some momentum, and it looked like the start of a beautfful relationship, with much grand talk of turning Beechdean into a real challenger brand. The newly-designed product launched to great feedback from the trade and consumers. <br /><br />And then everything just ground to a halt. <br /><br />Beechdean's focus shifted to its motor racing business, culminating in a doomed joint venture with Nigel Mansell. The Beechdean ice cream brand remained exactly as it had been - fragmented, old-fashioned and lacking innovation. Several distribution partners - notably the Albert Hall - switched to other brands. Meanwhile the likes of Hagen-Dasz and Kelly's of Cornwall went on exploring new ground<br /><br />Notwithstanding the myth that ice cream sales depend on hot weather, this acquisition could herald stormclouds over the company’s North Dean HQ. Owner Andrew Howard’s pledge to make new purchase Loseley “an uncompromising super-premium product” depends on sustained investment and a clear strategy. Otherwise, regardless of the weather, the deal could bring both brands to melting point.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-9423715503521351362011-04-11T13:41:00.011+01:002011-04-11T22:38:41.058+01:00What's that at the end of the garden?Every year, at about this time, The Wife looks to the skies in that endearingly decisive way of hers and declares "Isn't it lovely outside!" (note absence of question mark) "Let's have a barbecue!" To which my instinctive response is always "Don't be ridiculous! What do you think it is, Summer? We haven't even had Easter yet and you're suggesting we all get our shorts on and make like it's July! Come to your senses woman! What is it about people round here that at the first glimpse of Sunshine they feel compelled to throw off their garments and charge outside to cavort on still-dewy grass? Why don't we just go the whole hog and head down to the beach with a bucket and spade?"<br /><br />I have never been barbecue's biggest fan. I admit that in certain social settings, large gatherings where good cheer and conversation flow like (and possibly because of) red wine, a barbecue can be a great addition to proceedings. But on a smaller, family scale, it seems to almost more effort than it is worth. I am, if not a lazy sod, certainly a person for whom convenience has considerable appeal. I realise that this is not very alpha-male of me, and that as a bloke I am meant to see the barbecue as some kind of primal link to our hunter-gatherer heritage and a chance to cast off the shackles of conventional domesticity and once again cook the spoils of bloody sport (or in this case, a trip to Sainsbury's which can be equally scary especially if The Wife is involved). Although (as those that know me will be aware) I make no claim to alpha-masculinity, this is a source of regret. I would love to be an outdoors person, I really would - indeed, I am a big fan of getting outside if I have somewhere to get to. But al fresco dining has never grabbed me. The food gets cold and there are wasps.<br /><br />Now you don't get through nearly a decade of marital bliss without having some degree of control over your baser instincts, so obviously this is not the response I come out with. With feigned enthusiasm I nod my head and make my weary way to the garden shed, there to rummage and dig amongst a Winter's worth of bric-a-brac until I locate the barbecue gas cylinder and assorted bits and bobs we need for a really splendid feast.<br /><br />Yes, you read that correctly - gas cylinder. I am ashamed to admit that we decided to purchase a gas barbecue after several years of frustration as the gale that habitually blew through the garden of our old house extinguished a succession of matches before eventually the charcoal furnace of our former barbie would catch alight. So instead of rushing down the the local petrol station to get a bag of charcoal, we have an alarming-looking green cannister of propane gas which has to be connected with a bit of rubber tubing that was surely stolen from a secondary school science lab. It does detract somewhat from the old-school elemental appeal. <br /><br />Of course, I can never remember how it works. After poking and prodding various switches and knobs for a short while, I am forced to go in supplication to The Wife, who with much tutting and grumbling about my lack of technical know-how, gets it going with insulting ease. Various meaty foodstuffs are duly produced and cooked, and consumed, while the pieces de resistance, barbecued bananas, are slowly baked within their skins. Then, as the wasps descend, it is time to retreat, laden with dirty plates, to the kitchen, to try to hack bits of burnt-on food from the griddle, or lose finernails in the attempt.<br /><br />It is a meal that takes twice as long to prepare as to eat, and three times as long to clear up. Can someone please explain to me why this is held to be a relaxing way to spend a Sunday?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-60077784143024120542011-03-05T22:52:00.004+00:002011-03-07T13:38:32.486+00:00A brief tale about customer serviceLast week I happened to pick up a Network Rail Customer Satisfaction survey that was being distributed, very unobtrusively, at Kings Cross, to Rush Hour commuters who had just got off their trains and were mostly in too much of a hurry to notice, let alone stop to fill in a form. Call me a cynic, but it was almost as if they didn't really want you to notice. As with any dealings I have had with NR, or indeed "my" train company First Capital Connect, it felt frustratingly remote. It is almost as if the guardians of the nation's vital arteries (if you'll pardon the analogy) will do everything in their power to avoid coming into real contact with the actual users of their services.<br /><br />The trains have been pretty unreliable recently, and the experience awaiting the commuting hordes at Kings Cross even worse. The Powers That Be are continuing their campaign to prevent people from actually catching their trains, putting up barriers between platforms, and installing useless ticket barriers, only two of which are ever working, at the point of densest over-crowding. Meanwhile, the trains have been delayed, usually falling moments within the ten-minutes-late mark (which is the point at which you can ask for a refund - not that anyone would ever bother because the process of claiming one is so anachronistic and slow).<br /><br />Trying to get any money out of the train companies (and I include Network Rail in this bracket), is like going back in time. No online facilities here - just loads of forms to fill in, forms which (wouldn't you just know it) can only be handed in at the station you travel from, necessitating a lengthy wait in a bad-tempered queue because the station is so short-staffed that only one window is open. <br /><br />Should your train actually exceed that ten-minute lateness boundary, there is another obstacle course to negotiate. Obviously there is another form to fill in, but on top of that you have to write down exactly what time the train was scheduled, and exactly what time it actually arrived. Now, how likely is it that a commuter who is late already will have the time to stop, consult the timetable, compare it with the clock and then write the information down? Not very.<br /><br />Paradoxically, when money is flowing in the opposite direction, they could not make it any easier, taking full advantage of every new technological development to make it easier for you to hand over your readies. Tickets can be purchased on your PC, your phone, possibly even by thought itself. <br /><br />So, having picked up a questionnaire, I was looking forward to noting down a few choice observations about the service. Sadly, however, the document itself did not (and you may notice a theme emerging here) make it easy for me to do so. There were three sections. The first asked me about the specifics of my journey - was I arriving at Kings Cross, or departing; was I a regular commuter (to which one might respond - "Have you seen the state of the on-board toilets?" - but that's for another comedy routine); my age and gender. The next section asked me whether, if NR came up in conversation, would I commented very positively, slightly positively, etc. The third section allocated a very small space for "any other comments", and given that my handwriting is slightly bigger than Times New Roman font size 10, there wasn't room for many.<br /><br />In my very first blog post - five years ago - I suggested that Kings Cross was turning into the Big Brother house, progressively harder to escape from. Now I'm beginning to think that it bears more resemblance to Catch 22.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-91340543640728697642011-02-24T17:35:00.001+00:002011-02-24T17:35:54.031+00:00Child's play?There is always hand-wringing and teeth-gnashing in equal measure whenever the government makes a pronouncement on some aspect of the private sector, especially when it raises the spectre of regulation, and such has been the case with the Bailey review into the sexualisation of childhood. Now I thought it was commercialisation of childhood that was keeping Cameron awake, but this is less headline-worthy and doesn’t feature the word “sex” so the tabloids won’t be interested in it. So we are introduced to the concept of sexualisation, which I initially took to mean something quite different, but in fact refers to the likes of the “paedo bikini” from Primark, or some generic pop star writhing and gesticulating on X-Factor before an audience of impressionable Tweens, who presumably went straight out into the street and started to mimic the movements.<br /><br />I confess to being in a quandary. On the one hand, I do genuinely disapprove of rubbing inappropriate content in the faces of children, the more so since becoming a parent, and I do think childhood is far too precious a thing to be sacrificed on the altar of consumerisim. I also get wound up by admen (and women) who protest “Not our fault, gov, society’s to blame, we just reflect the culture of the time” pointing to Page 3 as evidence. This also happens when anyone suggests that drinks marketers are somehow partly responsible for alcohol abuse (as binge-drinking is now termed). “Alcohol abuse has nothing to do with low prices – its causes are cultural.” All well and good – I have read a theory that we in the UK have a “Northern European” approach to drinking which has more in common with the Scandinavians (from whom, of course, many of us are descended) than with the peoples of the Med. I don’t know if Norway and Sweden are full of pissheads, but as a theory it is intellectually appealing. But, surely, if booze were more expensive, people would drink less of it, because they would have less? We had the same arguments at the time of the tobacco ban. And they didn’t wash then.<br /><br />But there’s a bigger question here – should we in the creative industries have a sense of moral responsibility? Can we change society for the better? I don’t think anyone actually disagrees with the assertion that kids and sex don’t mix, so how have we come to this repair? Well, it ain’t the advertising, because I’ve not seen any ads promoting inappropriate content or behaviour to kids. But there is a wider marketing malaise. It’s the ease with which they can access content aimed at other people. It’s generic pop stars writhing on X-Factor, it’s naked cover stars on lads’ mags on the bottom shelves in newsagents. It’s pop songs with suggestive (or just plain lewd) lyrics. And of course it’s the papers with their kiss ‘n’ tell cover stories and reality TV bollocks. <br />So what action could we take to address this? It’s not content that’s the problem, but accessibility. So how do you stop people from accessing content they shouldn’t? Not, I would assert, by removing it from them. People respond to incentives - carrot and stick, and all that. You need to change behaviour over time. Don’t knock kidulthood – promote childhood. And who is best-placed to achieve real behavioural change? That’s right – the marketing industry.<br /><br />The way the debate is going, or rather being conducted by the government, it looks like further regulation might be on the cards. Even stricter guidelines on marketing to kids, perhaps a blanket ban on advertising on kids’s TV? Gesture politics. The Kid’s TV sector is in enough trouble already, after the junk food ad ban. Like it or not, TV production companies depend on advertisers for funding. We are not going to stop kids watching TV – and why should we? It’s educational, a source of entertainment and one of the few things that commands their attention for more than ten minutes (sometimes even as much as twelve). As a parent of two little boys, I will defend kids’ TV, particularly the BBC output (much of which comes from independent ProdCos), to the hilt. Given that we are in danger, as the Evening Standard put it, of becoming entirely reliant on “guns, booze and betting” for our economic prosperity, it would be sad indeed if such a vibrant sector was sacrificed on the alter of cheap political point-scoring.<br /><br />So, pre-emptive action, anyone - not just another code of conduct, but real engagement with the issue and the audience? A May Day Alliance for childhood?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29241733.post-71815921248827982182011-01-18T23:00:00.001+00:002011-01-19T18:17:25.405+00:00Confessions of a Marketing manI watched Sliding Doors over Christmas. I saw it when it first came out at the cinema back in, ooh, 1998 or whatever it was, wowed by the kooky alternative-history concept and expecting an equally kooky film. At the time I recall emerging disappointed that the film had turned out to be quite heavy viewing, leaden in some parts as it strove for profundity, and certainly not the comic caper I had been expecting. On second viewing, with the benefit of more than a decade’s hindsight and experience, not to mention commuting experience, I was able to relate to the characters much more. But the thing that most struck me, the result of spending much of that decade working in marketing, was the absence of mobile phones.<br /><br />Any self-respecting PR (if that is not an oxymoron) would these days be gadgeted up to the eyeballs. The sight of Gwyneth Paltrow’s character setting up her new firm from a boring old office with an old fashioned landline seemed far more of an anachronism for being set in the recent past than the secretaries tapping away at their keyboards in Mad Men. Not only would she be co-ordinating her friend’s restaurant launch from her Blackberry – she would doubtless be Tweeting about her cheating louse of a boyfriend, sharing her sadness at her redundancy on Facebook, and possibly moaning about missing that Tube on a blog. And as for the louse himself, conducting his affair via a payphone – it all just seemed hopelessly dated. <br /><br />But that’s the thing about doing what I do. It is all pervasive. Not that other jobs aren’t, of course – people of all professions take their work home with them. But because consumer culture touches on every aspect of modern lifestyles – from the food we eat to the cars we drive and the way we acquire information – almost any situation can be analysed in marketing terms, and the individuals or groups concerned categorised into some segment or other.<br /><br />I find myself trying to categorise and define myself as a consumer, to work out how I could be most effectively marketed to. I’m certainly not an “early adopter”, to use textbook terminology. I was disdainful of mobiles for years, only joined Facebook when I began to feel left out of office banter, and have only recently sent my first Tweet. Needless to say, I do not own an IPhone or anything similar.<br /><br />Even during my brief dalliance with the glamorous world of TV, I found myself far more interested in the marketing of programmes than their production – partly because it is so much more innovative a process. Marketing tells us about people, their lifestyles and their habits – and that is the stuff of which stories are made.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14348730105069474869noreply@blogger.com0