One of the most surprising, and satisfying media events of this week was the spectacle of LBC radio's loudmouthed talk show host James O'Brien being forced to eat his words by England footballer Frank Lampard. For those not familiar with James O'Brien, imagine a lovechild of Richard Littlejohn and James Whale, with more opinions and less charm.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bob4cmNSfvE
On this occasion, O'Brien insinuated that the footballer was a bad parent and 'scum'; his sole source being a tabloid newspaper, and the criticism coming on the first anniversary of Lampard's mother's death. An emotional Lampard, alerted by his sister, phoned in to defend himself, and rebuke the host.
O'Brien did himself no favours in the ensuing interview, remaining defensive throughout, and apologising only for the timing of the criticism, further clarifying 'Its not an anniversary I have in my desk diary'.
The public reaction to the incident was almost unanimously in Lampards favour. Nearly all the hundreds of of comments on the YouTube tape of the interview either condemn O'Brien or applaud Lampard, most beginning 'I hate Chelsea, but...' or 'I've never been Lampard's biggest fan...'.
In the ever expanding world of Premiership football, reaching the pinnacle requires almost as much training off the pitch as on it. For the top players, an evening outside the home can become a minefield of temptation and bad PR, and the media anxiously await any comment that can be twisted into a scandal (see Wayne Rooney 'hating' Liverpool FC). Those held up as the exemplary professionals and role models in the game, by the the media and football insiders alike (Paul Scholes, Ryan Giggs etc), are those who avoid not only nightclubs, but any media contact whatsoever.
As a result, interviews with top flight superstars are overtly cautious, cliched and insipid affairs, lacking any insight into the humanity of these players. When Frank Lampard rang into LBC, it was a rare glimpse of vulnerability and emotion in a species so often characterised as arrogant and aloof. Even rarer was the sight of a Premiership footballer coming out of off-pitch media spectacle with an increased public appeal.
In an amusing postscript, see Sky News' mischievous Kay Burley give O'Brien an amusing slap on the wrists for his journalistic ability here...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpQX_ZWinas
Monday, 27 April 2009
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
The Colour of Money- Who stole our questions from the TV Quiz?
Watching television on Sunday afternoon I happened to catch an episode of ITV's new game-show, The Colour of Money, which follows the recent trend of making quiz shows without the questions. Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? became the most successful quiz by combining big money with massive suspense and audience tension. Channel 4's Deal or No Deal went further, completely removing the questions and relying, to great success, on even bigger doses of suspense and tension to satiate the thrill-seeking nature of today's television audience.
The trendspotters at ITV licked their lips at the sight of DOND's success and immediately tried to replicate the trick with the most ill-conceived game show since Paul Ross offered to forfeit his wages on NO WIN NO FEE (suffice to say the nation was not on the edge of their armchairs, faces screwed with anxiety, waiting to see if Ross would receive his cheque). This was Goldenballs, which resurrected the career of Jasper Carrott for long enough to remind everyone why he had disappeared. This was basically DOND with its rules scrambled and over cooked and added balls. Carrott looked as confused as the audience as he gormlessly attempted guide us through the intricate format. The whole concept should never have got much further than its inventors mouth, and it does make you wonder what happens in meetings at ITV...
'I've got this great idea, yeah, imagine Deal or No Deal yeah, but...100 multicoloured balls , 10 rounds, yeah, do different stuff with the balls, maybe put some money on them, load of rules, yeah'
'Like it, like it! But double the rounds and treble the rules. Who are you looking to front it?'
'I was thinking Jasper Carrott, he hasn't worked for a couple of decades so he'll be be fresh yeah?'
'Jasper Carrott! Just the charismatic viewer magnet we need! I haven't heard such a good idea since NO WIN NO FEE, oh, lets get Paul Ross for back up to Carrott...'
So, on to the latest arrow from ITV in the battle of the quiz-less shows, The Colour of Money, fronted by Chris Tarrant ( 'Yeah Chris we're basically making Millionaire without questions, yeah, and a bit less money on offer... yeah, we've been a bit low on cash since Goldenballs didn't work out...'). The general format is fairly simple- a target amount of money and twenty multicoloured cash machines that when picked by the contestant will slowly tick towards their maximum payout. The contestant has to reach their target by stopping the cash machines just before the reach their max, otherwise they get nothing. Herein lies the crux of the format, the buzz of tension running through the audience as the greedy contestant lets the the machine tick and tick, the bead of sweat that forms on the viewer's forehead as if it were the ticking of the clock on a Hollywood bomb. However, unlike the bare simplicity of DOND, The Colour of Money is clogged up with absurd details which undermine or break what tension there is.Perhaps the most diverting of these details is the ridiculous appearance of a Carol Vorderman type sidekick between rounds offering a statistical breakdown of the state of play, delivered with big mathematical visuals reminiscent of Peter Snow on US election night.
Whoever designed the crucial cash machines must be asked a few questions, such as why didn't you simply number them? Why colours? Why rose, olive and khaki? How can the audience get drawn into the tense atmosphere when at the crucial moments the contestant has to look Tarrant in the eye and tell him 'I select the khaki cash machine'? Incidentally, on Sunday's episode this feature did provide the shows highlights, as the contestant, a cleaner/club singer from Birmingham, gave a superstitious reason for literally every colour she selected, even though she had to select most of them anyway- 'I'm going for Olive, Chris, because when I was younger on holidays in Greece, my mum yeah, she used to eat olives you see..' 'Er Khaki Chris, because a few years back, my mum and me yeah, dressed up in army gear, right, for night on tiles'.
While the presence of Chris Tarrant may keep The Colour of Money afloat for slightly longer than Goldenballs, it will inevitably suffer the same fate, and then maybe ITV might consider bringing back the quiz. Hopefully by resurrecting No Win No Fee.
The trendspotters at ITV licked their lips at the sight of DOND's success and immediately tried to replicate the trick with the most ill-conceived game show since Paul Ross offered to forfeit his wages on NO WIN NO FEE (suffice to say the nation was not on the edge of their armchairs, faces screwed with anxiety, waiting to see if Ross would receive his cheque). This was Goldenballs, which resurrected the career of Jasper Carrott for long enough to remind everyone why he had disappeared. This was basically DOND with its rules scrambled and over cooked and added balls. Carrott looked as confused as the audience as he gormlessly attempted guide us through the intricate format. The whole concept should never have got much further than its inventors mouth, and it does make you wonder what happens in meetings at ITV...
'I've got this great idea, yeah, imagine Deal or No Deal yeah, but...100 multicoloured balls , 10 rounds, yeah, do different stuff with the balls, maybe put some money on them, load of rules, yeah'
'Like it, like it! But double the rounds and treble the rules. Who are you looking to front it?'
'I was thinking Jasper Carrott, he hasn't worked for a couple of decades so he'll be be fresh yeah?'
'Jasper Carrott! Just the charismatic viewer magnet we need! I haven't heard such a good idea since NO WIN NO FEE, oh, lets get Paul Ross for back up to Carrott...'
So, on to the latest arrow from ITV in the battle of the quiz-less shows, The Colour of Money, fronted by Chris Tarrant ( 'Yeah Chris we're basically making Millionaire without questions, yeah, and a bit less money on offer... yeah, we've been a bit low on cash since Goldenballs didn't work out...'). The general format is fairly simple- a target amount of money and twenty multicoloured cash machines that when picked by the contestant will slowly tick towards their maximum payout. The contestant has to reach their target by stopping the cash machines just before the reach their max, otherwise they get nothing. Herein lies the crux of the format, the buzz of tension running through the audience as the greedy contestant lets the the machine tick and tick, the bead of sweat that forms on the viewer's forehead as if it were the ticking of the clock on a Hollywood bomb. However, unlike the bare simplicity of DOND, The Colour of Money is clogged up with absurd details which undermine or break what tension there is.Perhaps the most diverting of these details is the ridiculous appearance of a Carol Vorderman type sidekick between rounds offering a statistical breakdown of the state of play, delivered with big mathematical visuals reminiscent of Peter Snow on US election night.
Whoever designed the crucial cash machines must be asked a few questions, such as why didn't you simply number them? Why colours? Why rose, olive and khaki? How can the audience get drawn into the tense atmosphere when at the crucial moments the contestant has to look Tarrant in the eye and tell him 'I select the khaki cash machine'? Incidentally, on Sunday's episode this feature did provide the shows highlights, as the contestant, a cleaner/club singer from Birmingham, gave a superstitious reason for literally every colour she selected, even though she had to select most of them anyway- 'I'm going for Olive, Chris, because when I was younger on holidays in Greece, my mum yeah, she used to eat olives you see..' 'Er Khaki Chris, because a few years back, my mum and me yeah, dressed up in army gear, right, for night on tiles'.
While the presence of Chris Tarrant may keep The Colour of Money afloat for slightly longer than Goldenballs, it will inevitably suffer the same fate, and then maybe ITV might consider bringing back the quiz. Hopefully by resurrecting No Win No Fee.
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Monster Gets Wings
During a road trip across the United States my friend Noodle and I undertook last year, I became fascinated by the hold exerted by the world's most powerful brands over the landscape and imagery of the world's most powerful country. As you drive across the freeways of the sandy Southern States the placards of the most iconic brands merge into one with the equally iconic desert backdrops of the classic American western. It was in the more humid metroplotitan surrounding of South Beach, Miami that I witnessed the impressive spectacle of bikini clad girls perched in the back of huge monster trucks, handing out massive amounts of ice cold Californian energy drink Monster to the crowds surrounding the trucks.
My mind flashed back to this classically American incident this week upon reading that over the past few months Monster has overtaken Red Bull in the American energy drinks market (in terms of quantity sold), and the same looks to set to happen this side of the Atlantic. The rise of Monster has to be rated as one of the most astonishing accomplishments in branding over the past few years, not least because the speedy rise of the Red Bull brand was astounding in its own right. Red Bull gained its strength through massive extreme sports sponsorships, excellent advertisement campaigns, not to mention buying whole mainstream sports franchises throughout the world. Red Bull's marketing efforts extent to owning top flight European and American football/soccer teams, an ice hockey team and, perhaps most impressively, a Formula 1 racing team.
In some respects Monster has competed through imitation, successfully replicating Red Bull's extreme sports sponorship. However, it is through the age old combination of bigger sizes and better value pricing that Monster has forced itself on top. The pint sized can appears to be the decision maker in almost all marketplaces for the energy drink. Across university libraries and amateur sports teams the bigger drink is winning all the hearts and minds. Stop at a garage and it will be Monster be peddled at the counter to the weary driver.
So what is the future for Red Bull? Inspite of Monster rise, Red Bull remains a growing brand, and has introduced larger cans to continue this. Perhaps the one place Red Bull can expect remain on top is as an alcoholic drink mixer. Vodka Redbull and Jagerbombs have almost become brands in their own right (the Vod:Bull event promoter is becoming increasingly successful across the university campuses of Britain), and having cans any larger is completely unpractical for most bars, pubs and clubs. But while Red Bull continues to dominate this sector, it is nice to reflect that even in the most competitively branded market place, those offering sheer good value and more for your money can still win out.
My mind flashed back to this classically American incident this week upon reading that over the past few months Monster has overtaken Red Bull in the American energy drinks market (in terms of quantity sold), and the same looks to set to happen this side of the Atlantic. The rise of Monster has to be rated as one of the most astonishing accomplishments in branding over the past few years, not least because the speedy rise of the Red Bull brand was astounding in its own right. Red Bull gained its strength through massive extreme sports sponsorships, excellent advertisement campaigns, not to mention buying whole mainstream sports franchises throughout the world. Red Bull's marketing efforts extent to owning top flight European and American football/soccer teams, an ice hockey team and, perhaps most impressively, a Formula 1 racing team.
In some respects Monster has competed through imitation, successfully replicating Red Bull's extreme sports sponorship. However, it is through the age old combination of bigger sizes and better value pricing that Monster has forced itself on top. The pint sized can appears to be the decision maker in almost all marketplaces for the energy drink. Across university libraries and amateur sports teams the bigger drink is winning all the hearts and minds. Stop at a garage and it will be Monster be peddled at the counter to the weary driver.
So what is the future for Red Bull? Inspite of Monster rise, Red Bull remains a growing brand, and has introduced larger cans to continue this. Perhaps the one place Red Bull can expect remain on top is as an alcoholic drink mixer. Vodka Redbull and Jagerbombs have almost become brands in their own right (the Vod:Bull event promoter is becoming increasingly successful across the university campuses of Britain), and having cans any larger is completely unpractical for most bars, pubs and clubs. But while Red Bull continues to dominate this sector, it is nice to reflect that even in the most competitively branded market place, those offering sheer good value and more for your money can still win out.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Talking of Paul Ross
Whilst researching Paul Ross (one of my favourite pastimes), I came across this on amazon. It is a portrait of Ross on the set of No Win No Fee printed on artist-use canvas. Please have a look and read the feedback and comments.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B001N6W8U0/
Read all the comments, this is essential viewing for both the novice and ardent Paul Ross afficianado.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B001N6W8U0/
Read all the comments, this is essential viewing for both the novice and ardent Paul Ross afficianado.
Fat Cats, Golliwogs, and One Eyed Scotsmen
The biggest stories of the week were once again to be found the BBC, which appears to be making astounding efforts to shake off its perhaps undeserved tag as a far-left soapbox, by filling its offices with the nations favourite racists, xenophobes and a back to work Jonathan Ross.
Carol Thatcher called a black tennis player a Golliwog, Clarkson called World Saver Gordon Brown a 'one eyed Scottish idiot', and Ross continued mixing up dirty jokes with the elderly. Carol Thatcher was promptly sacked, whilst Clarkson and Ross continue their mission to entertain unmolested. The usual suspects came out in support of Thatcher and to condemn the other two jokers. London Jester Boris Johnson must have forgotten that a massive proportion of his constituents have every right to be aggrieved at the Golliwog remark (or maybe Johnson is still fearful of the accused's mother), and waded in to defend Thatcher and refute her dismissal on one of his regular publicity jaunts on BBC London. The term Golliwog is a dehumanising throwback to imperialist days when black people were considered 'servants, slaves and figures of fun'. That Johnson doesn't recognise how offensive the word is (just 'a bit offensive' in his words) is on a par with when he imagined 'tribal warriors' greeting Tony Blair's trip to Africa with 'Watermelon smiles'. How he became the top boy in one of the most ethnically mixed cities in the world defies all logic.
An even more archaic politician defended Thatcher on Question Time. I don't remember his name, but this UKIP member made remarks to the effect that Thatcher's sacking was over the top in the face of Ross and Clarkson going virtually unpunished. This has become the standard argument coming from the Daily Mail toting, Littlejohn quoting pro Thatcher camp. Ross and Clarkson both have a specific brand of humour that has given them huge followings, and both overstepped the mark slightly. Clarkson has made his xenophobic bigot act an artform and is loved for it; Ross' lovable lech act has served him similarly well. Very few of either man's regular audience would have been offended by their respective comments. I imagine fewer people tune into the One Show to get their fix of casual racism. Furthermore, both men apologised, seemingly genuinely, for causing offense,whilst Thatcher refused.
The BBC rightly decided that only Carol Thatcher needed serious punishment and she now faces a either a return to relative obscurity, or perhaps a Ron Atkinson style televised meeting with non white people to show that an out of touch leopard can change its spots.
ps: saw Paul Ross, Jonathan's brother, on Come Dine with Me, and he is a fascinating character. An excellent chef and dinner guest, he lives in a quaint hobbit style home, and spents most of his time, I imagine, wondering why his quiz style series, 'No Win No Fee' based purely on the excellent concept that if the contestant wins Paul Ross doesn't get paid, didn't get the second series.
IN OTHER NEWS...
The animal specialist/agony aunt in The Sunday Times revealed that a reader's cat may be torturing the birds and rodents it catches before killing them due to being overfed. Apparently a study showed that hungry cats kill their prey quickly, whilst full up cats torment they prey for amusement. SO...WHO CONDUCTED THIS STUDY AND HOW????
Recordings of the infamously unhinged Method Actor Christian Bale unleashing upon the unfortunate man who wandered into his shot during filming of the new Terminator film. Visit youtube to hear batman tell his director of photography
...'
Am I going to walk around and rip your ------- lights down, in the middle of a scene? Then why the ---- are you walking right through? Ah-da-da-dah, like this in the background. What the ---- is it with you? What don't you ------- understand? You got any ------- idea about, hey, it's ------- distracting having somebody walking up behind Bryce in the middle of the ------- scene? Give me a ------- answer! What don't you get about it?'
I feel sorry for this mentioned Bryce person most of all. Poor Bryce trying to out act American Pyscho Bale, with people walking up behind him all the time, and screaming matches flying around him.
Carol Thatcher called a black tennis player a Golliwog, Clarkson called World Saver Gordon Brown a 'one eyed Scottish idiot', and Ross continued mixing up dirty jokes with the elderly. Carol Thatcher was promptly sacked, whilst Clarkson and Ross continue their mission to entertain unmolested. The usual suspects came out in support of Thatcher and to condemn the other two jokers. London Jester Boris Johnson must have forgotten that a massive proportion of his constituents have every right to be aggrieved at the Golliwog remark (or maybe Johnson is still fearful of the accused's mother), and waded in to defend Thatcher and refute her dismissal on one of his regular publicity jaunts on BBC London. The term Golliwog is a dehumanising throwback to imperialist days when black people were considered 'servants, slaves and figures of fun'. That Johnson doesn't recognise how offensive the word is (just 'a bit offensive' in his words) is on a par with when he imagined 'tribal warriors' greeting Tony Blair's trip to Africa with 'Watermelon smiles'. How he became the top boy in one of the most ethnically mixed cities in the world defies all logic.
An even more archaic politician defended Thatcher on Question Time. I don't remember his name, but this UKIP member made remarks to the effect that Thatcher's sacking was over the top in the face of Ross and Clarkson going virtually unpunished. This has become the standard argument coming from the Daily Mail toting, Littlejohn quoting pro Thatcher camp. Ross and Clarkson both have a specific brand of humour that has given them huge followings, and both overstepped the mark slightly. Clarkson has made his xenophobic bigot act an artform and is loved for it; Ross' lovable lech act has served him similarly well. Very few of either man's regular audience would have been offended by their respective comments. I imagine fewer people tune into the One Show to get their fix of casual racism. Furthermore, both men apologised, seemingly genuinely, for causing offense,whilst Thatcher refused.
The BBC rightly decided that only Carol Thatcher needed serious punishment and she now faces a either a return to relative obscurity, or perhaps a Ron Atkinson style televised meeting with non white people to show that an out of touch leopard can change its spots.
ps: saw Paul Ross, Jonathan's brother, on Come Dine with Me, and he is a fascinating character. An excellent chef and dinner guest, he lives in a quaint hobbit style home, and spents most of his time, I imagine, wondering why his quiz style series, 'No Win No Fee' based purely on the excellent concept that if the contestant wins Paul Ross doesn't get paid, didn't get the second series.
IN OTHER NEWS...
The animal specialist/agony aunt in The Sunday Times revealed that a reader's cat may be torturing the birds and rodents it catches before killing them due to being overfed. Apparently a study showed that hungry cats kill their prey quickly, whilst full up cats torment they prey for amusement. SO...WHO CONDUCTED THIS STUDY AND HOW????
Recordings of the infamously unhinged Method Actor Christian Bale unleashing upon the unfortunate man who wandered into his shot during filming of the new Terminator film. Visit youtube to hear batman tell his director of photography
...'
Am I going to walk around and rip your ------- lights down, in the middle of a scene? Then why the ---- are you walking right through? Ah-da-da-dah, like this in the background. What the ---- is it with you? What don't you ------- understand? You got any ------- idea about, hey, it's ------- distracting having somebody walking up behind Bryce in the middle of the ------- scene? Give me a ------- answer! What don't you get about it?'
I feel sorry for this mentioned Bryce person most of all. Poor Bryce trying to out act American Pyscho Bale, with people walking up behind him all the time, and screaming matches flying around him.
Saturday, 7 February 2009
A Welcome, and an Explanation
At the moment, I have a little more time on my hands than I would like, so I thought I would postpone my online poker career and take up the more productive hobby of blogging. If you are wondering about the title, Chirpsing seems to be the buzzword at the moment, and I want to stay current. However, whilst the most of the topics posted will not be concerned with the chirpse, it will remain in the undercurrent of my blog, and so doe merit some explanation.
The origins of the word lie in the raves of East London, where the local boys would chirpse the local girls... 'I be chirpsing dat sweet ting over there blad', ...'allow chirpsing dat brere, I already slew dat'. In this original definition, and maybe even the current one, the most well known chirpser would have to be the horrific Leslie Grantham (the finger sucking Dirty Den from Eastenders).
Thankfully the definition developed into a more all embracing term of endearment ('Alright, Chirpser' was the greeting on an earlier phone call), general verb ('What u chirpsing about tonight?' was a text recieved earlier today).
However there remain a much more complex feel to the term. If someone is felt to be exagerating an anecdote, over persuading, or simply spouting crap facts and ideas, they will be labelled a chirpser. Which leads the blog, which may be regarded as a complete chirpse by some. But I will be posting both serious and more irrelevant articles on here about current affairs, brands and the media, and I would appreciate any feedback, or entry into the debate.
The origins of the word lie in the raves of East London, where the local boys would chirpse the local girls... 'I be chirpsing dat sweet ting over there blad', ...'allow chirpsing dat brere, I already slew dat'. In this original definition, and maybe even the current one, the most well known chirpser would have to be the horrific Leslie Grantham (the finger sucking Dirty Den from Eastenders).
Thankfully the definition developed into a more all embracing term of endearment ('Alright, Chirpser' was the greeting on an earlier phone call), general verb ('What u chirpsing about tonight?' was a text recieved earlier today).
However there remain a much more complex feel to the term. If someone is felt to be exagerating an anecdote, over persuading, or simply spouting crap facts and ideas, they will be labelled a chirpser. Which leads the blog, which may be regarded as a complete chirpse by some. But I will be posting both serious and more irrelevant articles on here about current affairs, brands and the media, and I would appreciate any feedback, or entry into the debate.
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