Tuesday, 9 March 2010

I speak the language of success!


I have returned.

Back from an international marketing conference, am I basking in the glory of business success?

You bet your shitting boots I am.

Though it was only five (or was it four?) days long, too much happened at the conference to fit into one post. From intense pressing of flesh to prolonged bouts of high-level golf to sharply focused international discussions on just which half-pissed marketing trollop had the best Euro-bristolas, it was a heady, almost overwhelming, professional experience.

Here, then, are some of the highlights, hastily recalled as I sift through the many, many fond memories, recollections and assumptions based on the confusing evidence left in my hotel room.

My speech
It may have taken place at 3am in a part of the hotel usually used for storing soiled linen and corpses, but a hand-picked audience were truly stirred by my dispensation on 'Female Stereotypes in Advertising'. Several of the women present (both of them, actually) were visibly moved by it - to the point where they visibly moved, through the door. (Sometimes, marketing insight can be a truly powerful thing. On this occasion, it was too powerful.) It was widely agreed that my ideas on women and the vote (they'd actually be relieved to have it taken away - they don't have the fucking time for politics when there are houses to clean and children to feed), female nudity in advertising (has anyone actually proven that it's anything other than fucking marvelous?) and women's responses to advertising (tits, teeth, headline, price - in that order) were groundbreaking.

Nobody, the organisers told me afterwards, had expected anything like that!

Claka Slinkistrisdom is a very special lady from Iceland who, I can reveal, can chew her own ankles and likes being peed on. But I'll say no more than that to preserve her dignity.

The Europeans have taken what I thought was a British field of expertise - the banger - and made us look like a bunch of fat toddlers fucking about with some offal. On the second night the organisers held a Sausage Festival Meet & Greet which featured meaty delights from across the continent. And let me tell you, fellow marketing professionals, the Cumberland on Stand 12 was made to look a very sorry specimen indeed.

Mikkel Cockhammer
A marketing professional at one of Europe's best kept secrets in the electricals aftermarket, Mikkel and I discovered a mutual love of long-term strategies to engender consumer delight. And of golf. And beerz. And beerz during golf. And bristolas. And bristolas during golf. And golf during beerz / bristolas.

I will always remember Mikkel's cry, oft repeated, of 'Stop! Cockhammer time!'

He is a true gentleman. Here's to you, Mikkel, wherever you are. (I think it was Norway, but I can't really be sure.)

There's so much more to say, so I'll reveal more of my exploits as time goes on. In short, though, I think it's fair to say I came back a better man than when I left.

Actually, that's not true. I came back as fucking fantastic as when I left.

Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!


  1. Euro bristolas. Golf. Consumer durables relating to, or directly involving cleaning clothes...

    Dave, this can only be YOUR work of genius:


  2. That is sheer beauty.

    I'd be proud to see that with my logo on the end.

    I'm fucking welling up...