The Golden Age of Bullshit

11 04 2014

Everybody in our industry should watch this. You don’t have to agree with it all, but most of it is hard to argue with.





Google Search: The Reunion

13 11 2013

This Indian ad from Google is REALLY good. Parts of it are in Hindi but you won’t have any trouble understanding what’s going on provided you’re familiar with India’s partition.

This is a fantastically emotive subject, but I think Google treat it with respect here. And as a brand integration case study it’s fabulous. Google has a good track record for making emotionally resonant ads, Dear Hollie perhaps being the best known example. But for me, they’ve often tried to cram too much in, tried too hard to say WE’RE GOOGLE AND WE DO EVERYTING – gmail, Youtube, Chrome, search etc. This makes the ads feel crowded and you’re not really sure what they’re for or what they’re trying to say about why each tool is important to your life. In focussing on search here there is much greater clarity around the brand’s involvement in the story and, perhaps paradoxically, by talking about one thing rather than everything that idea of Google penetrating all aspects of our lives comes through much more cleanly.

Google search is absolutely integral to the story here. In my day job, we have always said that if you can describe what happens in the ad in a sentence without mentioning the brand then it is probably not well branded. I think you’d struggle to do that here.

Of course, it’s 3 and a half minutes long so there’s plenty of space for the story here and perhaps it seems odd to be congratulating such a long ad on its focus. But it also had a big subject to deal with in a respectful way. It achieves that rare thing of being a powerful film in its own right, but still having the brand at its heart in a way that does nothing to cheapen the subject matter.

I’m also certain shorter versions are possible and that this story can be developed across a longer campaign – perhaps bringing in other elements of Google’s portfolio as they go.

I believe Ogilvy India are the people to whom the credit belongs.





David Bailey on Advertising

11 09 2013

Over on my new blog, Life Lessons from Desert Island Discs, I have just written my second proper entry on the photographer David Bailey. Bailey has also successfully directed a number of ads, including the classic one for Greenpeace shown above. In his Desert Island Discs, he also reflects a little on advertising. So to cross promote two of my blogs and also because what he says is interesting but not really an important lesson on life, I thought I’d share what he says about ads (specifically, how directing them is different from shooting stills) with you all here.

In a way it’s a luxury. Most of my life has been spent trying to tell a story in a 125th of a second so 30 seconds is quite a luxury and 60 seconds feels like War and Peace to me. Being a still photographer is a bit like being a sniper up a tree, all alone, very lonely. Being a director is a bit like being a General – with all the people around you as catalysts trying to bring things together.

So, next time you think you’re having a hard time squeezing it all into 30 seconds, think of that lonely sniper in a tree, trying to squeeze the trigger on the right 125th of a second.





Big Mac – Think with your mouth

6 06 2013

I’m a Burger King man myself, I hate Big Macs, disgusting sauce. I was quite partial to a Chicken Maharajah Mac during my spell in the colonies, but I didn’t have Burger King to fall back on there. I was recently rather critical of one of their recent UK efforts so by way of redressing the balance I’d like to say that I really like these new Big Mac ads from over in that America.

An iconic product given the treatment it deserves – space to speak for itself and be the hero. You don’t need to make claims about something like the Big Mac (if you do about very much at all.) You just need to celebrate it in an interesting way. Also, 15 seconds each. Brilliant. You don’t need 90 seconds to make interesting ads. Don’t let anyone tell you that you do. Not to say, of course, that you can’t also make blinding long ads. Horses for courses (beef/horse substitution pun entirely intended.)

They put me in mind of MTV idents from back in the days when the ‘M’ in MTV actually meant something. A cynic might add that ‘Think with your mouth’ is a sensible way for McDonald’s to go given that thinking with anything else would lead you to avoid Big Macs altogether, but obviously I would never say such a thing.





The murder of a 16 year old girl

8 03 2013

The murder of a 16 year old girl, apparently unprovoked, should be equally affecting regardless of the circumstance. The truth is, that’s not the case. Today was a stark reminder to me of how locally our lives are lived. Regardless of how worldly you believe your outlook to be, how well travelled you believe you are – events near home, in places you have lived your own life, shake you in a way that any number of horrors elsewhere in the world do not. This isn’t to say horrors further afield are not upsetting, tragic or infuriating, they very often are, but they are necessarily more abstract than events occuring in your immediate frame of experience. Emotionally distant as much as geographically.

Today, Christina Edkins was stabbed to death on a number 9 bus on the Hagley Road near the centre of Birmingham. I did not know her, but I feel strangely like I did.

I grew up in Halesowen. The number 9 was my bus route. Into Halesowen from our house on the Abbeyfields or up Manor Lane to friends houses at first. As I got older into and out of Birmingham for work and for play. I must have ridden this bus route hundreds of times and I would have ridden it most frequently when I was Christine’s age. We all know there are bus routes best avoided (if you are fortunate enough to have the choice), whilst it has its share of unusual characters as all routes do, the 9 is not one of them. Sadness for those close to Christina was mixed with no little shock.

Later the news emerged that Christina was on her way to school at Leasowes High School. Leasowes was my school. I am now too far removed  from the school and the community around it to know her, her friends or her family. But 15 years ago I would have done. 15 years ago she would have been my classmate. We may not have been friends, but we would have been classmates. I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to see a young life of your acquaintance snatched away so viciously when you too are so very young. I think back to my classmates, I imagine how each would have reacted to a death of one of us, how each would have coped. Some would pretend they weren’t but I can’t think of anyone who would not have been affected. Many would have been affected so deeply that their whole life’s course may change.

The school made statements of condolence to the family and talked of support offered to the pupils. Eloquently leading the school response was the Head Teacher, Neil Shaw. Mr Shaw was my English teacher. If you are a regular reader of this blog you presumably believe there is at least some small merit in my writing. That is due, in no small measure, to Mr Shaw’s teaching. He was my favourite and best teacher. No Head Teacher should have to deal with this but few could be better equipped to do so. It is a strange and moving thing to see a man who so inspired you in the words of Heaney and Shakespeare delivering, with calm solemnity, such simple but difficult words of condolence.

I don’t visit Halesowen much these days. My parents have moved away. But by coincidence I was going there today to visit a friend, a former classmate, who was recently run off his bike not all that far from the school. I drove there in the pounding rain listening to the latest news. The suspected killer had been arrested. To get to my friends house I had to drive up Kent Road past the school. The rain still poured as I drove past the huddle of young figures  stood in the dark outside the firmly-closed school gates, hoods up to protect from the rain and shield from the world’s harshness. Leaving flowers,  messages, reading what others had written, comforting each other. 15 years ago, we could have been stood there.

I’m not sure why I’m writing this really. I’m certainly not trying to make this about me. I think what I’m trying to say is that every young person who is stabbed, assaulted, shot, glassed, bottled, raped – whatever, is on somebody’s childhood bus route. Somebody’s English teacher is now the Head and has to try and comfort the family and the kids. And of course, most important of all, they are somebody’s daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter. They will never have the chance to be someone’s mother or grandmother.

Whilst it might not be possible to feel as deeply about deaths such as this when they are further from home, we should at the very least try and remember that every single one is close to home for somebody. Indeed, for many.

My thoughts tonight are with all those who knew Christine and will miss her.





The Andrex Puppy wants to know how you wipe your arse

7 02 2013

So, there’s this. An ad about how people wipe their arses in which you are asked to submit a vote to a cuddly advertising icon stating how you, the viewer, prefer to wipe your own arse. My initial reaction to this was the same combination of shock and despair that you are probably feeling now if it’s the first time you have seen it - this excellent take down in The Vice about sums most of that up. But, for me, this ad was also revelatory. I hadn’t the slightest conception that anyone would ever do anything other than fold. If an Englishman’s home is his castle, his toilet is the Keep, where none shall surely pass except in the very gravest of circumstances. Our reservedness ensures that we keep life’s great pleasures such as having a lovely poo tightly locked away from any conversation. For the most part, that’s probably for the best but it has meant that I have spent my 31 years and some months entirely in the dark about “scrunching”. Scrunchies are 90s female hair accessories, not bum-wiping material.

I am a scruffy man. I do not iron my clothes, my house is fairly untidy – but I cannot imagine for a moment wiping my arse with a randomly scrunched up ball of toilet paper. The uneven surface, the variable thickness and the lack of a uniform size and shape seem to carry with them all kinds of risks that I prefer not to even countenance, let alone bring into play.

In the uncomfortable afterglow of this revelatory experience I thought I would open The Keep to my colleagues and explore further (I don’t mean I actually invited them into my bog, I just decided to discuss it with them.) The findings were really quite interesting (and of course entirely unscientific.) There does not seem to be a gender bias – at first it seemed girls were (unexpectedly? I don’t know) more likely to scrunch, but the more we asked it seemed to be about 50/50. More of my male colleagues were folders, but not to a degree sufficient to deduce a genuine skew given the sample size involved. Personality and outward physical appearance also seemed to be poor indicators. You might expect the scruffy buggers such as I (there are plenty of us in the Global team, we don’t get let out in public much so we can let ourselves go) to over-index on scrunching but they were as likely to be neat, tidy folders in the privacy of the smallest room in the house as anyone. Those with pristine, matching houses who iron their bed linen could very well be untidy (disgusting and risky in my view) scrunchers. There were some mad bastards who would do either, apparently willy-nilly with no clear criteria as to when they would change tack.

I was greatly relieved to discover that my wonderful girlfriend is also a folder, hopefully guaranteeing that our future children will also fold. But is there any guarantee? There seems to be no gender or personality pattern to all this. Who’s to say whether there’s anything genetic? But I can only hope that the combination of nature and nurture will see my unborn children right.

So, on reflection, maybe Kimberley Clark are on to something here. Maybe they will breakthrough our reticence to talk about wiping turd from our anuses and get us all debating the relative merits of the two leading approaches. Maybe people will vote in their droves. Maybe folders will ally with folders and seek to bring down the despicable practice of scrunching? Maybe all these years of toilet roll being a dull, low-interest category are over. I think there is more to talk about – optimum number of sheets, softness, quilted versus smooth, that tracing paper stuff from primary school. LET’S ALL ENGAGE AT INTERACT ON THE SUBJECT OF BOG ROLL.

Or, you know, maybe not.





“Nah, yer alright”, McDonald’s

6 02 2013

I don’t have a TV in my house, or at least not one connected to any TV service, so it’s usually via twitter or some other means that I come across new ads. That does tend to mean that I only see ads that are either brilliant or terrible as these tend to be the ones people tweet about online. Last night, however, I tuned in to some live TV on TVCatchup, the UK’s live streaming service for all free-to-air channels. Between the endless re-runs of Big Bang Theory I came across this ad for McDonald’s which doesn’t really fall into either of those categories. It certainly isn’t terrible, but it did annoy me (in fairness to McDonald’s, this isn’t hard to achieve.)

Having never seen it before I didn’t know what brand it was for to begin with. I think the narrative is good, the family dynamic portrayed is familiar to many and the rainy northern setting is well observed. The family members are all portrayed well. You get a good feel for the friction. From the perspective of advertising craft  it is all very nicely put together.

Then we come to McDonald’s role in all of this. This is the point at which I get annoyed. The idea of McDonald’s bringing people together is a perfectly reasonable one, not an especially original platform for a brand, but reasonable nonetheless. But what this ad boils down to to me is, if you’re having family problems, buy your kids a Big Mac and everything will be ok. That is, of course, an over simplification but it’s certainly what’s at the nub. You don’t need to actually tackle difficult family tensions, you can just bribe your kids’ (or step-kids’) into your affections by taking them to McDonald’s. Really, McDonald’s? REALLY? That’s the best way you could come up with of demonstrating that McDonald’s is a universal bringer of happiness that we all have in common?

Am I being too harsh? It just feels wrong to me to use this kind of family tension in this way.








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