Barometer dogs

I'm a big fan of alternative indicators.

About a decade ago, my Scottish economist friend and man of extremes, 'The Highlander', declared his favourite alternative economic indicator to be 'the number of cranes visible on the skyline of any given city'. The more cranes, the better the local economy.

This Monday, I spent the day at Pfizer's swanky Richard Rogers designed UK headquarters in Walton Oaks - which is its own village. Sod any of that being located in a village. Simply create one for yourself and use that fact, together with your sinuous, swirling, glass and steel atrium in main reception as an alternative indicator of your success.

On the way home just before 5pm I was main-lining some Radio 4 comfort listening in the car, and an article on 'dogs' cropped up, heralded by Loudon Wainwright squawking about how they're man's best friend. 

Original, Loudon, thanks for that announcement.

But, despite an unusually poor turn from the sire of such a talented musical family, I've started liking dogs more in the past few months as I've been introduced to some really rather splendid critters who've proved beyond reasonable doubt that they're not all slobber, bark and fart... 

...so I continued listening.

I was told that, since Tony Blair came to power in 1997, sales of cat food have overtaken those of dog food, with the inevitable conclusion that cats have overtaken dogs as the UK's most popular pet. 

The reporter went on to discuss the hackneyed attributes of feline vs. canine; about how one will spurn you while the other will always be waiting for your return; how with one you never know where you stand whereas the other is yours for life. 

He expanded out from there to observe (quite correctly, in my parents' view) that Labour, under Blair in particular, have been friends of the Town but not of the Country. Fans of fast and transient living rather spouses of long-baked traditions. 

Take-away vs. casserole.

And from the above points he rapidly drew the inference that the decline in popularity of dogs is a direct indication of how we, under this Labour government, have abdicated our sense of long-term responsibility to faithful friends and chosen instead the independent, sleeker and more changeling ways of pretty young felines. 

Dogs, he felt, were alternative indicators of a society that has lost its values. Slobber and all.

Polar bears and poor fundraising

This is a disturbing ad. And one that's garnering a lot of publicity today as the residents of Tunbridge Wells reach for their green ink and fashion numerous letters of complaint (365 to the ASA at last count) about animal cruelty and unnecessary violence.

Plane Stupid is a loose affiliation of climactically concerned individuals who want to stop excessive plane travel. They don't think the government is doing enough and so they're taking 'direct action' to stop it. 'Shocking' ads like these are a pretty good way of getting their point across.

You get the picture.

But what annoys me most is the utter lack of thought that's been given to the 'what happens next' bit. The fundraising bit. The pay-off. The proposition. The call to action.

Call it what you will.

So here I am, potentially sharing their concerns about plane travel, and so I find out who they are and go to their website. All very logical stuff. So TV ad has, if you like, worked. I'm happy to be one of those people for whom this works; someone who's not so turned off by the violence that I jam my fingers in my ears, cover my eyes, sing la la la and do nothing (and there'll be plenty of those).

Once I get there I naturally want to find out what they do. The 'about us' bit shows them waving a big banner of protest. Fine, I get that. They do protests. They do 'direct action' as well, which is a bit murkier and smacks of 'Fathers for Justice'.

But what should I, as a concerned individual, be expected to do - and why?

This is where the stupidity resides. Because they ask me to take a leap of faith. In their words:

'So we're asking for your money, which we'll spend on an action next spring, to remind them that we won't take their airport expansion plans lying down'

Now, hang on, you're not even going to tell me what this action is?! I've come this far and all you can be bothered to do in return for asking for my cash is promise 'an action' sometime next year?

What will it be? Another banner? A protest? More polar bear ads? How much do they cost? I've no idea.

Sorry, not good enough. Marketing - and fundraising - 'fail'.

If you're going to create a stir, at least make sure you've got a reasonable opportunity for people to side with you and do something meaningful.

Otherwise you might as well be a bunch of con artists, trying to extort cash from us on the flimsiest of premises. (Now there's an idea.)

Or is the mere fact that it's been 'on telly' enough to legitimise you? Hmm. Maybe that's what you're relying on.

I wish I could have written this in green ink...

Lipstick on pigs

I like this ad, but then it's hard not to: friendly music, beautiful people, dramatic landscape, emotive subject, touch of humour yada yada yada. Oh, and it's made in Argentina, so there's that Latin sense of flair we can allude to should we want to wallow in the backstory.

I found out about it from this site. They send me an email each week and occasionally I deign to take a peek at their proffering. And the reason I don't usually bother is the reason for this blog entry.

See, I reckon it's piss easy to make ads about chewing gum. You've got thousands of metaphors in the bank to draw on; you've got the obvious 'mouth' imagery to resort to; buying a stick of it isn't going to bankrupt you, and to the best of my knowledge, there are very few chewie manufacturers involved in sub-Saharan oil deals, military coups, drug denial, or who test their products on fluffy white bunnies.

Oh, hang on, maybe I'm being a bit unfair. Because someone in the last couple of years did make a chewing gum ad that courted controversy - remember the one about the Afro chap with a loud-haler? Apparently there were complaints to the ASA because he was being a bit racially stereotypical or somesuch nonsense. (I would link to the ad here but I can't remember the brand name, and YouTube don't seem to think that the search terms 'chewing gum ad afro loud-haler' are specific enough to conjure it up.)

Anyway, back to the point in question. The job of advertising can be described in as many ways as there are marketers alive, but the definition I'm going to use today is along the lines of: dramatising a brand's particular feature in a way that increases its audience's propensity to, at some stage, buy it.

So, well done, Topline, you've suggested that if you chew this gum it will make you so kissable that heaven and earth won't be able to pry you from your lover. And we've kind of enjoyed seeing this happen because it appeals to lots of emotions and senses - and that's why you've been awarded an average of 4.73 out of 5 by the voting public.

That, by the way, is a very high score.

Try achieving that with an ad about flu. Or cheap insurance (with the notable Meerkat exception). Or, in my case, ads about weird and wonderful diseases and drugs (usually ridden with side-effects, and costing a billion times more than a stick of chewing gum).

My point is that when you ask the public whether they like an ad, or reckon it's any 'good', they'll almost always go with the ads that involve humour, sex, big images, romance, aspirational and beautiful couple and so on. So if the product feature that you're dramatising is a 'nice taste' or 'fresher breath' then you've got a lot of potential stories and metaphors at your creative fingertips.

I doubt very much whether Top 5 Ad Forum will ever include a press ad about cures for pig diahorrea, growth hormone injections or replacement hips.

All subject matters are not created equal.

A challenge for us in the pharma marketing industry, maybe, but also an indictment on the easy job that 'Top 5' has.

And that's why I don't bother visiting the site that much: it's all pretty predictable.

The pursuit of happyness

I originally thought I’d use the above image only really for the film's name, and the fact that it suits this post’s thought, namely defining happiness.

But the more I remembered about the film, the more I felt it was appropriate. See if you agree...

I was listening to Evan Davis interview Warren Buffett on the Today programme a few days ago, and peppered within the discussion of his immense wealth were several aphorisms regarding happiness. Not a massively new tack to take, that of money vs. happiness, but never mind just this once.

The quotation I remembered was from Buffett, citing Bertrand Russell: ‘Success is getting what you want; happiness is wanting what you get’.

Not a new thought either, but, I felt, succinctly captured.

So much of what we (or, at least I) do is for the thrill of the chase. The end in itself may be totally benign or understandable, but do we really want what lies post-challenge?

This could apply to the chasing of ladies (a splendidly noble pastime) or, equally, the chasing and nailing of a business deal (less noble, but kind of necessary from time to time).

This is probably a more personal reflection on the way I’ve lived my life to date, but it’s been occupying my mind a little too much for comfort this week.

Discussing the concept with local sage-esse Alison, she said that Buddhists would make the distinction between pleasure and happiness. Sometimes the latter doesn’t always involve the former as regularly as we’d perhaps like, but there’s something intrinsically more worthwhile in pursuing it anyway.

We wondered whether these could be plausibly split short-term / long term; tactical / strategic.

Maybe.

So all of this led me to the conclusion that I’m a bit too motivated by success and pleasure right now. Do I really know what I want that will ultimately make be happy? Does it exist, or should we just try to achieve as un-broken a series of pleasures as possible?

Does it always resolve itself in having kids and a settled life? To what extent should one compromise on the partner one chooses / chooses you? Dammit, should one even compromise, or is it necessary to achieve the kids / settled-ness bit?

Metaphorically buggered if I know, but the fact that the thought won’t leave is probably a hint in itself.

The art of travel

I was reminded of the tagline of this Eurostar ad while journeying arounf Switzerland over the last couple of days: You carry your journey with you.

The campaign ran about three years ago, from memory, and although TBWA's execution of the ad is up for debate (as, frankly, are all ads; sod it, as is anything), the tagline stayed in my mind.

At the time I thought it sounded a terribly whimsical idea; I mean, you don't do that literally, and, although I'd travelled quite a bit, I'd never really thought about how the 'moving' bit affected the rest of my day.

And maybe it's a sign of getting older, or having to get on a plane every other week, but the insight behind it has finally struck me as totally accurate. Journeys are tiring - not the moving, but certainly the queueing - and it does affect your frame of mind for the meeting you're about to have or the extent to which you can be scintillating company over dinner.

But I think that I finally cracked it on this trip: I managed not to let the travelling encumber me too much. And here's why:

1. Leave a few minutes earlier for each connection or meeting; for someone who considers himself relatively skilled in the Art of Brinkmanship, this was a real change of strategy, but it made me a lot less sweaty on arrival.

2. Collect pretty notes: I now have a collection of about 5 different currencies in my wallet, so don't have to worry about finding a cash point or someone not accepting cards.

3. Go native - even if only for a sentence: I've mastered a few throwaway lines in French and German (and they didn't have these in Baudelaire crit essays at university) so I can actually make a cabbie or hotel porter crack a smile in some local argot.

4. I keep laptop, novel and Economist with me at all times - so can flick between them according to mood. It's important to indulge yourself a bit, and just because it's work time doesn't mean you're always in the right mood for worky-work. You did get up extra early, after all...

5. Spotify: I salute you: new tunes, on the iPhone, no download needed, reflecting mood changes instantly.

6. Wheeled cases: zero backache, but make sure you're listening to music to avoid hearing the swearing as people trip over your extended rear footprint.

7. Near universal WiFi at airports. Perfect for updating blogs, as I'm doing in Geneva International right now, and slightly less Byzantine in the log-on process than was the case in days of yore.

8. Perfecting the belt / liquid / laptop / shoe / coin removal at security. It's about as enjoyable as a jab in your inner ear, but try to take some Schadenfreude in watching those who get all flustered / a good groping from the men in gloves. Whatever it takes to find some inner Zen.

9. Don't get up from your plane seat until most people have left the craft: you'll be standing with your neck crooked longer than you think as some inept staff member tries to line up the step mechanism with the door. This does not, however, apply to JFK airport where you need to forget all politeness and dash out as fast as possible to avoid losing vital years of your life at immigration.

10. Play Matt Hindley's Escalator Game: you've got until you reach the top of your escalator to decide which girl you'd most like to sleep with on the escalator going down. Leave it too late and you'll be saddled with the last one you see. Serious game, that.

Right, am off to the boarding gate...

Temporary utility

Above you'll see two iPhone apps:

- one from Carling, the famous 'iPint' that used the motion sensor and hi-res graphics of the iPhone to make a simple game that most people seemed to download as a way of showcasing the phone's capabilities

- and one from Spotify, the internet music service that allows you to listen to whatever you want for free (with ads) or for a tenner month with no ads at all. Now available as an iPhone app, it recognises your username and picks up where you left off listening to music on any other computer you were signed into.

Both very clever, both capturing the 'technische Zeitgeist', and both offering a degree of 'utility', as economists might say.

It's this U-word that I'd like to think about, albeit briefly. Thing is, Spotify is changing the way I listen to music. I don't have to clog up my laptop memory with songs any more, I don't have to pay a penny more than £9.99 a month for all the music I could ever want to listen to.

And the fact that it's an app on my iPhone means I'll probably use it way into the future. It's got massive utility - in every sense.

I also had the iPint as an app for a while. I don't any longer. it wasn't bad - in fact, I got a lot of laughs out of it and felt slightly more impressed with Carling as a result (although I didn't rush out and buy their lager, weak piss that it is). It's just had its day, that's all.

Its utility was short lived, and as brands experimenting with apps, maybe that's all we should aim for right now.

Do it well, but accept that very few brands have a right - or even the ability - to achieve long term utility as an application.

OR ... do we do as the Nikes of this world have done and invest in a long term utility platform?

Whatever the weather, to approach branded apps either takes commitment or the acceptance that, at best, your app will probably generate a short-term buzz and then be forgotten about as the choice widens and deepens.

The rougher the better

Unless you've been living in a cave without wifi for the last few months, you've probably seen and maybe even smirked at the proliferation of rough sketches, mostly rude, that succinctly send up aspects of our increasingly technological and politically correct society.

I suspect that these will, in the style of Family Guy, become more risque as time goes by and the appetites of their fans become whetted for ever more dangerous or obscure humour.

But it does strike me that this cartoon strip sketch genre, having featured in daily newspapers for so many years, has upped its game with the likes of Modern Toss and Cyanide and Happiness. They're, to my mind, a whole load funnier and more pointed than some of the strips you see in Metro or The Mirror, which seem drab even without comparison.

And the joy of the obscure, chillingly and scratchily explored by David Shrigley, is the perfect antidote to the annoyingly perfect corporate images we're used to seeing.

And websites such as www.b3ta.com continue to be brilliant in sending them all up.

And maybe that's just it: we like these quick, rough, insightful images precisely because it's not what we're used to seeing.

They hit on a truth, and with the minimum of effort succeed in conveying a thought.

In which case, we're really missing a trick in advertising. If the fundamental tactic we use is disruption, then we're not half as good as disrupting as we might like to think. We spend more time perfecting things so that they blend in with every other perfect image and feel far removed from stuff that really matters.

Why not be a bit rough? Why do they want to look all mendaciously sleek? Let's face it, most of them don't answer the phone or give good customer service, so in truth they're pretty damn flawed in any case.

When Joel Veitch was commissioned by Mastercard to produce the Switch/Maestro ads a few years back, I really hoped that they would usher in an era of less perfect ads. They were memorable precisely because they were a bit weird and unexpected.

Oh well.

The consumer is STILL not a moron

Brand Republic today features an article on David Ogilvy by the ever-articulate George Parker. The former's famous saying is 'The consumer is not a moron, she's your wife', and never has this been more pertinent.

Three things made me realise this in a moment of happy coincidence yesterday...

First, the ever-sharing Craig O'Brien forwarded me a link to this presentation - a whopping 237-slider on something called Post Digital Marketing - and, whilst I've only made it through the first 100 or so slides, there's a wealth of quotability going on there.

Most notable was this one: 

'As the air around our citizens thickens with unwanted messages and interruptions, the goal should not be to add to this unwantedness, but to create deliberate and appreciated value'.

Too right! Why on earth should anyone give a shit about more 'me too' nonsense? And yet, that's what the vast majority of clutz-headed advertisers do, mistakenly opting to keep their heads below the parapet, tick some corporate boxes (of which 'innovation' rarely seems to be one) and rattle the bucket of swill just a little more loudly.

Second thing: a conversation with the ever-ranting Brian Dargan, whose view of the parapet is of sub-molecular proportions as he spits in the eye of convention at every turn. At a recent interview he had with a leading London ad agency, the Strategy Head there bemoaned a lack of real ideas - instead just a flow of identikit pedestrian ideas that fail to ignite even the most cursory of conversations.

Have we run out of ideas? Have they all been had? Or have all the ones in the 'traditional canon of shouty shouty advertising' been had and we're a bit nervous of omitting the big logos and headlines at every turn in favour of subtlety, warmth, art and value?

Why, oh why, do people think that 'doing more of what we've pretty much always done' is good advertising?

And the third was a David Ogilvy example pictured above: A Guinness ad that explains the difference between types of oyster. 

Does it patronise me? No, it's actually rather interesting. Does it beat me about the head, shouting at me to buy Guinness? No, instead it walks the walk of a brand I'd like to identify with because it is genuinely edifying; an intelligent brand.

Above all, I actually get something out of it. Oh, and I happen to associate Guinness with this value - and therefore like it all the more (especially with oysters).

And that was over 40 years ago - before the advent of interactive media that should, godammit, make it that much easier for brands to be useful. 

And yet all I hear in evidence of brands being useful now is Nike-fucking-Plus.

Come on. To those of who work in this fated / feted industry, I implore you: try to create one piece of advertising in your life that advances something of human value. 

It might just save the industry. And I may even be prepared to go client-side some day if that's what it takes.

Decisions based on favours

'Sure I'll sponsor you.'

'Yeah, your party sounds as though it could be a laugh. I'll swing by.'

'Reckon I should buy that one, really? The green velour one? Oh well, if you say so.'

It's just occurred to me, as my slothful mind ambles into action, that so many of the decisions we make are based on a cypher of the facts: people we know. We defer responsibility and take things as read.

We simply don't have the time to assess every situation according to what is, isn't, and could possibly be. So we make a decision based on someone else. 

Sometimes it's their advice. Sometimes it's just because it's them. We assume they've done the legwork already, or that they're worthy of our time and attention.

This occurred to me as I listen to an album by If Wen, who's a mate of mine. It's come onto my office speakers and I've actually managed to divorce the singer from the song. A few weekends ago I agreed to post the video on my blog and seed it in a few music forums. I did this as a friend, somewhat unquestioningly, as it seemed the 'right' thing to do.

But now, as I have a bit of time and space to exercise my critical faculties, I find myself wanting to evangelise a bit. 

I enjoyed having the time to make a decision myself that wasn't coloured by favour.

It's HR, stupid, not just IT

One day computers will rule the world and, should we want to, we'll all be allowed to go to that lovely looking island off Australia and put our feet up for 6 months - not just that lucky charity worker - safe in the knowledge that business is ticking along nicely at home.

Indeed, even our Facebook profiles will be run by robots - the future is already written here.

But until such a day, my digital friends, if you want your digital marketing to be any good then please, for the love of whichever flavour of god you care for, don't think that it will run itself.

If you really want your social media programme - that comprises the very best of blog-commenting, forum-influencing, content-distributing, tweet-chirping, video-mashing and app-seeding - to work, then it will take real people to roll up their sleeves and get busy with their ears and their keyboards.

Because computers really can't tell which places in the digisphere are truly worthy of our attention, and certainly can't respond suitably, and with tonal subtleties, to the conversations that are influencing opinions.

It's great that you've realised that banners and a monolithic website maketh not a digital marketing campaign (although they may tick the digital box in the eyes of your line manager if (s)he's really that stupid) ... 

...so for the time being, given we're all human, please try to invest in HR when you invest in IT.