iPain iN the aRse

My iPhone iS behaviNg badly. After beiNg iN my iPocket last week iN the iPissing raiN, iT iS showiNg a contiNuiNg error message telliNg me that thiS iPhone iS not optiMized wiTh this deviCe. So the iPhone gets damp iT gets useless. iMpressiVe.

To add iNsult to iNjury, the iPhone wonk iSpoke to @ apple tells me they can fix iT yes they can but iT wiLl cost iN the regiOn of £140. Problem is concurrently Angela dropped her iPhone and iT has a cracked screen. iFeel liKe telliNg apple to go iPhuck themselves to be honest.

But whiSht. . . TheiR iS some boy iN Derry apparently wiLl do repaiRs more cheaply. iWill give hiM a shout.

iN the meantiMe here’s today’s marketiNg tiP.

iF you want somethiNg to sell, just stiCk a small iNfront of iT. No matter how crap iT iS. Used to be you stuck a sliCe of liMe anythiNg would sell. Now just the iWill do.

The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly

(I submitted this piece for a professional blog I contribute to. They said it wasn’t weighty enough, too light. So I’ll tell you what, you guys can have it instead.)

Do your marketing materials depress you? Truthfully? Do they?

When you see them do you cringe with embarrassment? Has the initial self-satisfaction and smugness gradually dissipated with the realisation it was all a horrible mistake. Are your Marcomms materials a victory of imagination over marketing purpose? Are they any use at all? Really now. Be honest.

I once worked in a marketing department and an internal client described a piece of work we had commissioned and managed as looking like an old wine catalogue. And you know what? He was right. I was too close to it. And beguiled by an enthusiastic designer I bought into her hogwash. Bigger fool me.

When you’re out and about do you covet your neighbour’s brochure more than their goods? Do you visit their website late at night, longing for the day when yours will be as achingly stylish. The brilliant copy. The superb photography. The way it all just looks and feels and sits together. Their Facebook page with all their likes. The funky wee videos that suck you in and make you laugh. Those ideas you had but never had time to follow though. Here before you in technicolour, working  in ways you could only hope for.

And what about that big typo that just appeared in your brochure as soon as you opened the box from the printer? You swear it wasn’t there when you signed off that last proof. But, when you check back… when you check back. There it is. There it is. And what’s worse, you fixed something beside it. Suddenly. Slowly. Sickeningly. You realise. You caused it.

It reminds you of heading out on a hot date when a huge carbuncle appears on your nose staring back at you from the mirror telling you “you have no chance tonight my friend”.

And just like the big spot on your nose, you have to talk about it. You’re obsessed with it. Maybe if you tell people they will tell you it’s OK. You go through every grammatical contortion you can think of. It’s maybe not a mistake if you read it this way. Maybe. Everyone tells you no-one will notice but you know in your heart of heart they will.

And when some smart busybody does notice, you smart too. The stuff you spent so long discussing with the designer. You trusted them. You believed everything they said about your brand looking good.

But. And it was a big but. Did you read through it properly? That day when the proofs came in just as you were running out the door. “They’ll be alright you thought to yourself”. You’d been through the material a dozen times. But. You forgot about the one wee thing you changed screwed things up elsewhere.

And if you have a boss. What will they say? Bad enough working for them but on this one they gave you your own head. And look what happened.  All that faith in you. You let them down. The budget gone. Would you have to pay for it yourself. Pay for it with your job maybe. Imagine telling your mum you’d been sacked because you hadn’t checked your work. It would be like homework time all over again.

That sleepless night, sick in your guts. Will I get the sack? What will happen? Should I come clean or not? And when they find out, will it be an understanding arm around the shoulder or a swift kick in the rear. . .

Next time. . . How to avoid this visit to heartache hotel. Some dos and doughnuts.

Going Down Like The Titanic

That's a big boat.

100 years ago this week, The Titanic slid down a well lubricated Harland and Wolff slipway into infamy.

You know the story. On its maiden voyage Leonardo di Caprio and Kate Winslet, fell in love, had a soft focus back seat love affair in a car stowed in the hold, where she went down before The Titanic did. They danced an Oirish jig, and felt the wind in their hair on the prow as Celine Dion sang that awful song.

Then, to the relief of the audience the bloody ship sank. Winslet drowned before taking her clothes off and doing it in a few more movies, whilst Di Caprio came ashore in Boston, where he later starred in The Departed.

Meanwhile back in Belfast this week, the same slipway, now minus the 20 tonnes of tallow lubricant, was packed with the great and the good eager to celebrate ‘a major achievement for Belfast.’

The newly inaugurated Mayor of Belfast, Niall O Donnghaile, acclaimed the City’s achievement in building the ship. That in itself is an achievement. Mr O Donnghaile’s forefathers would not have had the opportunity to set foot in the shipyard let alone stand there and speak.

Anyhow, what continues to amaze me is the relish with which The Titanic is hailed as some sort of monumental triumph for Belfast.

It sank.

1,517 people perished when the liner hit an iceberg at 11.40pm on 14 April 1912 and sank less than three hours later.

Fatal flaws in its construction and a lack of lifeboats contributed to the huge loss of life. The majority of deaths were caused by hypothermia in the -2 °C water where death could occur in as little as 15 minutes.

Next year an iconic £97 million Titanic building dedicated to remembering the ill-fated ship will open, expecting to attract 400,000 visitors annually. It will feature nine galleries telling the story of the Titanic, the Belfast shipyard and early 20th Century life in the City.

Perhaps Leonardo di Caprio and Kate Winslet will attend the official opening, she might keep her clothes on and hopefully the whole thing will go down this time without any further loss of life.

Left Handed Hurleys Responsible for Decline in Hurling says Research

THERE’S NO DOUBT that hurlers can get most animated at any talk of adjusting their equipment. There’s been debate of late concerning the soon to be mandatory use of hurling helmets at all ages and levels, and sure a while back the issue of players wishing to use their own balls was much reported.

Now, research carried out by one of Ireland’s leading universities has uncovered clear evidence that the majority of hurleys manufactured in Ireland over the last twenty years have in fact been what are known as ‘left-handed hurleys’.

It is believed the error dates back to a secret directive issued by the Powers that Be in the early eighties that pointed out increased concerns over health and safety due to overhead pulling and the gradual decrease in ground hurling. Amongst other recommendations, the seventies think-tank believed that the introduction of helmets would in part alleviate the problem. But, in addition, they wished to regulate the size of the bas on the hurl.

After much research, a sample of the ideal hurley was sent to every hurley maker in Ireland with clear instructions on future stick production. In those days, unlike today when you can’t go round a corner without someone carving away on their caman, there were much fewer men (and women) crafting the ash and therefore regulation was much easier.

Unfortunately, the hurls chosen as the original of the species and therefore the protoype for future iomanadors, and from which the vast majority of hurls in Ireland have since descended, were a batch made specially for the famous ciotóg hurler Jimmy Doyle of Thurles Sarsfields and Tipp.

He specified to his hurley maker, Pat Óg Leahy that the heel of the hurl should have a slightly elevated angle on one side, all the better to cut the ball (in the manner of Joe Canning et al nowadays) and also a small indent was planed into the bas to enable easier carrying of the ball whilst soloing.

In addition the protruding bit on the handle was carved longer than normal as yer man occasionally was bothered by an itch and he found a good scratch with the butt of his stick eased the discomfort. Even nowadays an observant viewer can watch the way hurlers and Camogs alike rest on the convenient handle of the stick during breaks in coaching, teamtalks, the national anthem and the like.

Sources have revealed they will be issuing new guidelines on hurleys to ensure that in future more right-handed sticks are produced the length and breadth of the country.

It is believed this innovation will help the promotion of hurling countrywide and may indeed increase further the volume of scores from sideline balls and generally help the weaker counties develop.

Readers are therefore encouraged to check at home, in the garage, under the stairs, in the shed, and in the fertilizer bag and remove all left-handed hurls for destruction immediately.

We would caution that you burn hurleys one at a time due to the combustible nature of ash. You don’t want to be scorching the thatch now do you?