Tony

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At social gatherings it is common to find that the way your fellow guests treat you will always follow how you respond to the question: “and what do you do for a living?”    Depending on your answer you will either end up being ignored, lambasted, pitied or lionised for the rest of the evening.

If tired out from a hard day’s golf and you simply want to eat yourself under the table in silence, being ignored will be your modus operandi of choice.  I have found that offering myself as the curator of a small local history museum at least 50 miles away does the trick.  If someone else pinches my selection I gracefully move over to being a manufacturer of trouser presses.

If one fancies a fight on the other hand, then the role of either traffic warden, or being the local official responsible for setting the region’s council tax usually works, while to be pitied, perhaps with the intent of cadging a lift home with one of the more dominating members of the ensemble, one might opt for the role of dog walker or junior assistant of a children’s nursery. 

But for most of us the fun really starts when one wishes to be the centre off attention.   If you are stunningly good looking, phenomenally rich, a film star or a popular recording artiste with several number 1 hits to your name, then invention is hardly necessary – but in case not, here are a few inventions that are currently doing the rounds on my dinner party circuit.

Claiming to work for military intelligence is a good one (but avoid slang terms like MI5 or MI6 – its a dead giveaway).   For maximum effect dismiss the interest your confession creates with an indifferent wave of the hand while pointing out that the current North Korean situation is really rather dull fare, and you are sure much more exciting things happen at the Membury Axminster Heritage Centre, and anyway shouldn’t we be discussing the latest MRSA outbreak at the local general hospital?

Working on the team for the next British unmanned space probe to Titan is a possibility if you’ve read enough Arthur C Clarke, especially if you can do a good narrative about underwater creatures the size of power stations.   I heard a lady in Bournemouth add that the moon’s sea life was the least of their worries on a world where it “regularly rains lighter fuel” which I thought was a nice touch.

Closer to home, working for Prince Charles as stunt manager can put you at the head of the table all night especially when you point out that so many of the projects never get off the ground, either because of media interference, political considerations of the fact that His Royal Highness simply didn’t fancy six months in a peat bog in Guatemala.   

Tony Attwood

PS:  Working in a direct marketing company that is considered something of an expert in the world of blogs, emails and postal campaigns puts me at the boring end of the list – but still, we can’t have it all.  So any other suggestions for how I might overcome my dinner party difficulties are always welcome.  For work related issues please call 01536 399 000.

How to survive social gatherings

At social gatherings it is common to find that the way your fellow guests treat you will always follow how you respond to the question: “and what do you do for a living?”    Depending on your answer you will either end up being ignored, lambasted, pitied or lionised for the rest of the evening.

If tired out from a hard day’s golf and you simply want to eat yourself under the table in silence, being ignored will be your modus operandi of choice.  I have found that offering myself as the curator of a small local history museum at least 50 miles away does the trick.  If someone else pinches my selection I gracefully move over to being a manufacturer of trouser presses.

If one fancies a fight on the other hand, then the role of either traffic warden, or being the local official responsible for setting the region’s council tax usually works, while to be pitied, perhaps with the intent of cadging a lift home with one of the more dominating members of the ensemble, one might opt for the role of dog walker or junior assistant of a children’s nursery. 

But for most of us the fun really starts when one wishes to be the centre off attention.   If you are stunningly good looking, phenomenally rich, a film star or a popular recording artiste with several number 1 hits to your name, then invention is hardly necessary – but in case not, here are a few inventions that are currently doing the rounds on my dinner party circuit.

Claiming to work for military intelligence is a good one (but avoid slang terms like MI5 or MI6 – its a dead giveaway).   For maximum effect dismiss the interest your confession creates with an indifferent wave of the hand while pointing out that the current North Korean situation is really rather dull fare, and you are sure much more exciting things happen at the Membury Axminster Heritage Centre, and anyway shouldn’t we be discussing the latest MRSA outbreak at the local general hospital?

Working on the team for the next British unmanned space probe to Titan is a possibility if you’ve read enough Arthur C Clarke, especially if you can do a good narrative about underwater creatures the size of power stations.   I heard a lady in Bournemouth add that the moon’s sea life was the least of their worries on a world where it “regularly rains lighter fuel” which I thought was a nice touch.

Closer to home, working for Prince Charles as stunt manager can put you at the head of the table all night especially when you point out that so many of the projects never get off the ground, either because of media interference, political considerations of the fact that His Royal Highness simply didn’t fancy six months in a peat bog in Guatemala.   

Tony Attwood

PS:  Working in a direct marketing company that is considered something of an expert in the world of blogs, emails and postal campaigns puts me at the boring end of the list – but still, we can’t have it all.  So any other suggestions for how I might overcome my dinner party difficulties are always welcome.  For work related issues please call 01536 399 000.

This day is a unique festival, and although not recgnised by many in our land, it is still a time for thinking of those minor items that we have in and around what is often one of the smaller rooms of the house. 

This year I was particularly reminded of the Day of Celebration by a crossword clue which asked for the name of a kitchen item, eight letters long, and containing a Z as the antepenultimate consonant, and two “Ys” near the start.

Sadly after several months of pondering I am no closer to a resolution, and fear that I may have made an error elsewhere.  But be that as it may, this is a time for contemplation.  Contemplation of what is, what might be and indeed what might have been.

It is a moment when one turns away from a game of darts down at the local and instead decides to spend the evening in front of the kitchen stove, reading it TS Eliot or Ezra Pound before moving on to a recital of Dylan Thomas in the cupboard under the stairs.   We’ve all been there, I am sure.

But in these modern times it is not unknown for the slow cooker recently purchased from Asda or indeed the vacuum cleaner from John Lewis to answer back, such is the way of modern technology.  And thus there has been a return to the streets, with many a person forced from his or her own home due to the advances of modern technology wherein one finds that the newly purchased phone is demanding that one apologises either for not using it enough, or for requiring it to be active in the middle of the night.

Yet my thinking here is along the lines of PG Wodehouse.  One should not apologise.  The right sort of household appliance does not want an apology, and the wrong sort only takes advantage. 

However I notice that many people have not taken my guidance, and younger folk have often turned from such reflective ventures, preferring to meander the streets on the look out for other youngsters who are being attacked by passing ipads that have escaped from TV series, running up to the beasts brandishing a wooden stake and clove of garlic which is thoughtfully held under one’s mackintosh.

But as I say, I prefer the old ways, and thus it is that I am pleased to raise my glass to you on this Day of Celebration of Small Kitchen Utensils, and say, thank you for subscribing to the Direct Mail Secrets newsletter. 

Please do call             01536 399 000       if you would like to have some fine chit chat about direct marketing, or swap kitchen stories.  No cheese graters will call and your secret will be safe with me.

Tony Attwood

Sometimes, as the Toppled Bollard stories continued, we wandered away from the Bollard itself and just wrote silly stories.  This is one that got a lot of interest, and produced a lot of work for us, perhaps because it rang all the right bells.

If you would like to know more about this series do call 01536 399 000

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How to write a direct ad that people read, photocopy and then pass around the office

Last week I went to see my printer.  He wanted to do some direct marketing in order to tell the world about his Heidelberg SM52 Perfector.

I asked him why he wanted to do this, and he said, “It’s got dot for dot registration of the highest order, automatic wash-up, auto plate clamping plus upper height resolution, and decolorisation at definitive frequency.”

“The car park has been resurfaced too; perhaps we could mention that,” I said, but he wasn’t sure.   I pressed on: “Why should I, a person of moderate intellect and a reasonable business acumen, care that you have got a SM52?” I asked.

“It’s the highest quality,” he said, “and we can turn your work round more quickly.”

“But speed and quality are what everyone offers,” I told him.  “It’s like telling me that a holiday hotel is well-appointed.  It is this sort of advert that gives direct marketing a bad name.   You need to be utterly different if you want anyone to read this stuff.  Why don’t you tell them you have just cloned a photocopier repairman and are renting him out?”

“But it wouldn’t be true.”

“No, but they would read it.”

He looked unimpressed so I tried something else.   “How about the fact that the car park is unavailable because it has been taken over by a group of itinerant Morris dancers?”

“That wouldn’t make sense – if they were itinerant, they wouldn’t stay.  Why have you got a fetish about car parks?”

I ignored his jibe.   “You could write a piece about how you once printed a book called, “Genghis Khan meets the Royal Mail” and you were ordered to pulp the lot, or that for the past two years you have been printing my sales letters all of which have a PS which says, ‘no horseman will call,’ without ever asking me what it means.”

“And this gets people’s attention?”

“Slows down the horsemen.”

Tony Attwood

PS:   For a free report on what makes people read what you send them, see the enclosed.  No horseman… oh well, if you insist.   5pm Tuesday.   OK?

Gibberish in the Community

Are all my friends

two potatoes short of a hot pot?

There is a rule in direct mail that says response rates go up if one encloses a letter with the brochure.

Last week I took a copy of my new booklet on selling into schools into the Toppled Bollard – Corby’s premier meeting point for those of a marketing persuasion – and asked the assembled glitterati what sort of letter I ought to send out with such a work.

Billy “The Dog” McGraw, a regular at the Bollard and acknowledged in these parts as something of a marketing guru, was in no doubt.

“No one reads educational direct mail any more,” he said.  “Go into parents’ homes, go into schools and watch what happens.  Rubbish bins are full of it.  In schools pigeon holes are replete with ancient mail.  Believe me, no one reads your stuff any more.”

I was shocked.  This was not the response I had expected.   “Then why do you think people keep sending direct mail out?” I asked.  “I have customers who are mailing 30 times a year.  Do you think they don’t notice that they aren’t getting any sales?”

The Dog ignored my question and stuck to his theme: there was now so much direct mail about that response rates were in terminal collapse.

Of course I respect The Dog’s view but I knew this time he was wrong.  I write direct mail and I get sales.  And most of my clients get improved results when I write for them.  (Notice I say “most of”, because I don’t give guarantees.  But “most of” is about right – there are ways of getting response rates up, and they certainly do work most of the time.)

I looked at The Dog.  In the past he has always been quite reasonable – although I did get a bit worried recently when during the pub quiz he suggested that the correct answer to the question, “What was the name of Noah’s wife?” was “Joan of”.   Something seemed to have changed in him of late, and I seriously doubted if he was in the right frame of mind to help me write my letter to go with the new booklet.

“Billy,” I said, “I’ve never seen you so negative before.  You’ve become a fatalist.”

“I’ve never collected stamps in my life,” he replied.

Tony Attwood

PS: There’s a copy of my booklet on response rates enclosed for you.  Hope you like it.   If you want to talk about raising response rates when selling to schools and parents, give me a call.  My direct line is 01536 399 013.  Billy’s popped to Benidorm for a brief rest.

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Juventus played like boiled fish

(headline in Italian newspaper as translated by James Richardson)

On reading this headline I wondered – why “boiled” fish?  I don’t know why but it reminds me of a piece by Woody Allen, “On Tripping Through a Copse and Picking Violets” in which he wrote: “This is no fun at all, and I would recommend almost any other activity.  Try visiting a sick friend.”

His point was that the best way to get flowers was to call the florist and order by phone.   “That way,” he concluded, “if an electrical storm comes up or a bee-hive is chanced upon, it will be the florist who is rushed to Mount Sinai.   I have come to the conclusion that for sheer fun it is hard to beat forty-eight hours at Foam Rubber City during the high holidays.”

My own advice, when I am called upon to give it in the Toppled Bollard, is – be revolutionary when writing direct mail.   By and large being a revolutionary is simple – all you need is something to rebel against and then you just find someone who will do the revolting for you.

One of the great things about this is that dress tends to be casual, and time and place are flexible – although of course if you don’t get both sides to agree on time and place then the whole revolution can be something of a walkover.    If neither side turns up, as in the Toppled Bollard Massacre of 2002, then a draw results and the status-quo is deemed the winner.   You also forfeit your deposit.

When running the revolution remember that the status quo is always dull and boring and mostly involves watching paint dry.  For my crusade against sales letters that start “I would like to introduce myself as your new sales representative for this area” I had Billy “The Dog” McGraw leading the revolting, something at which he was a natural.  The campaign, rather like dropped jelly, was completely mould breaking.

Of course it is hard for direct mail copywriters to get much sympathy in the media as “the oppressed”, although most of us do go around grumbling a lot and complaining of headaches, which suggests to me that by and large we are on the right lines.

Recently we put all our reports on how you can get better response rates in direct mail by making a few very simple changes to your promotions on the www.hamilton-house.com web site.  You can also do counts and buy lists on line.   The site doesn’t harm your civil liberties although I would advise against calling the owner of the Bollard “Fats”.

Tony Attwood

PS:  We are currently considering putting all the past stories from the Toppled Bollard on www.hamilton-house.com – so that you can get the full flavour of the boiled fish.

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Billy “The Dog” McGraw fails  to speak out on direct mail

My good colleague Billy “The Dog” McGraw is something of an expert on the topic of  direct mail, and many is the time I have turned to him, and his close associate Felix “Jawbreaker” O’Frayne, for help on this topic.

Indeed the regular marketing meetings at the Toppled Bollard, in Corby’s famous “West End”, would not be complete without the input of these two industry connoisseurs.

Unfortunately, “The Dog” and his regular companion recently had something of a scare when the Dog’s car was attacked on the A43 just outside Corby and was subsequently boarded by a horde of rioting film directors on their way home from their regular Movie Quiz Night at the Pig and Wishbone.

This excitable group of men and women (who were shouting phraseology from 1930s Ealing Comedies while pretending to be Alec Guinness) then ordered the Dog and Jawbreaker from their car and insisted that they scuttle in a non-threatening manner to the side of the road.

I cannot recall anyone previously insisting that Jawbreaker scuttle anywhere, let alone in a non-threateningly manner, but this is what they did. However the Jawbreaker showed the great restraint that many of Corby’s citizens are justly famous for, and he smiled paternally. Or, rather, he had a muscular spasm about the mouth, which some of those present took to be acquiescence before citing (in summary) George W. Bush’s famous point that he was “all in favour of a stronger death penalty”.

Just at that moment, several men dressed in tights and pirate costumes chanced upon the scene.  These, it appears, were evolving an arousing recreation of the famed 1938 Gainsborough Pictures version of Peter Pan – quite a commonplace occurrence in downtown Corby.

Regrettably there is a history of rivalry between the Gainsborough gang and the Ealing mob, which apparently dates back to the filming of several scenes of The Great Train Robbery on the Corby to Kettering line, and a dispute over territorial rights.

It was at this point in the proceedings that I received a text from my pals concerning their situation and I rushed to be of assistance, taking with me Reggie Fitzgibbon, the famous character actor.

“I got your text,” I said and I trotted up to The Dog and the Jawbreaker.

One of the acting mob recognised Reggie and hailed him in a hearty manner.  He kindly introduced me.

“This is my pal Tony Attwood,” he said.  “Writes direct mail adverts and what not, don’t you know.”

We all shook hands, and several policeman, having clicked off the safety catches of their AK47s began to take up positions in the shrubbery.

“This is a rotten business, with armed police everywhere,” I said, trying to make light of the situation.

“Oh, I don’t know, you know, don’t you know?” said Reggie, actor to the last.   “We do our best.”

“I write adverts,” I explained, trying to cover for the fact that I was now lying face down in the gutter, hoping to avoid any sniping that might break out.

But there’s always a silver lining and the heavy acting that broke out in the surrounding streets did allow The Dog, Jawbreaker, Reggie and myself to make our escape, round up the troops and launch an offensive from just off the A43.

Matters blew over around 3am and two parrots were arrested.

Billy and Felix were unharmed but were sadly in no fit state to engage in a discourse on the uses of covering letters as opposed to brochures and leaflets in direct mail.   However they have passed on to me a range of information on the relative response rates that are currently being gained through each type of mailing, and the ways in which literature can be modified in order to gain higher response rates.

Please call my colleagues on 01536 399 000 to discuss mailings, or telephone me on 01536 399 013 to discuss response rates.

Tony Attwood

PS: I regret that at this time I have no further news as to the well being of the parrots.

This series of articles is reprinting some of the Tales from the Toppled Bollard that were published by Hamilton House over a four year period as an experiment in surreal advertising.  It turned out to be just about the most successful campaign we have ever done.  If you would like to know more, do give me a call – or read some of the other stories on this site.

Billy has indeed asked me to reassure his friends that the environment in which he spends his days is indeed more “open” and relaxed than many of the streets locally.   “You certainly couldn’t call this place a prison,” he told me.

When visiting Billy last week we got onto the subject of direct mail headlines (as one does).  As I have reported before, Billy is very much of the school that believes that the headline to the sales letter determines how many sales you get.   “If you don’t grab the reader by the throat with the letter headline, there is little chance of them reading anything else – including the brochure,” says Billy.

Many of us agree – for although in the case of Billy the use of the phrase, “grab the reader by the throat” might be thought a little ill-considered – the fact remains that getting people to read the letter is the most important element in any direct mail campaign.

Billy’s view is that one way to enhance readership is to crack a joke.  It seems that Billy once sent out a mailshot with the headline:

“A man walked into a pub with a roll of tarmac under his arm and said…”

The reader then had to work through the full page in order to get to the punch line, which was, “A pint of bitter for me and one for the road.”

Personally, I think this type of Tommy Cooper humour is hilarious – and come to that so does my mum – but of course it is not for everyone.  Yet jokes like this can have a huge impact.  I once sent this particular joke by text message to a lady I was trying to impress with my post-divorce dating skills.   Unfortunately she read it while skiing off-piste and utterly refused to speak to me when she emerged from hospital.

As for the daffodils.  Well, who knows.

Tony Attwood

PS:  Just in case you did find that funny, here is another one from Mr Cooper, which The Dog also found worked quite well in a campaign.   “Two jump leads walk into a bar.  The barman says, ‘OK I’ll serve you, but don’t start anything’.”

If you are interested in advertising which is a little out of the norm, please do call 01536 399 000.   Or if you want to read a different approach try http://www.badad.co.uk/?p=88

By which I mean, I got a really charming note back from one chap in an ad agency, admitting he worked in what was a competitor business, but just saying that he really liked the piece.  “I didn’t want to keep reading,” he said, “but I had to.”   A very nice comment.

We picked up several clients, which is of course what it was about, but we also got an email from a firm that said that because the text was so wrong, and because the way we handled the campaign was so bad, no more than four people would actually see the email.

I must say I was concerned, and immediately called for the hit list (which shows open rates and click through rates) and those were as expected.  It’s a strange way to advertise – by frightening and worrying people, and pointing out their incompetence – but each to his own.

His another Bollard tale from the early years.  Hope you enjoy it.  Do call if you want to talk about Selling Through Stories.

Tony Attwood

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“It is very important for folks to understand that where there is more trade there is more commerce”

George W Bush.  January 2002.

One of the interesting aspects of my job is that I am often called on to give advice to advertisers on the subject of creating leaflets that will get wonderful responses.  Often my advice is given over the excellent cuisine of our local hostelry – the Toppled Bollard.

Recently I took a member of the Association of Regional Statisticians of England to lunch.  He explained that perhaps the most comprehensive vision of what statisticians do comes from the Bureau of Incomplete Research whose president recently said.   “One in every three advertisers.”   By and large I had to agree.

The Toppled Bollard is a restaurant that itself needs no explanation. For a start it is consistent – the steak, coffee and ice cream all come at the same temperature.   Jenny McGraw, wife of my old pal Billy The Dog, has proclaimed herself proprietress.  Jenny would not mind me saying that she dresses to kill and by and large cooks the same way.

As we sit I always try and talk my guest through the local dishes.  The cuisine, I announce, is Corbyesque – which means that if you complain you are likely to be headbutted.    I never recommend the soupe du jour since you never quite know what it will be from one day to the next.   Gazpacho is also out – each time I have ordered it at the Bollard it has been cold.

On this occasion we ordered duck.  However my guest chanced his arm somewhat by asking what sort of duck we were being offered, and how was it to be cooked.  I instinctively lowered myself under the table, but Jenny was in a serene, almost non-violent mood.   “If it looks like a duck, talks like a duck and walks like a duck it probably needs more time in the microwave,” she told him.

And so finally we got to the pudding.  According to my guest, 14 out of every 10 people like chocolate.   He also informed me that research shows that foods used for medicinal purposes such as chocolate, brandy, toast and cheesecake have no calories.  I found myself looking forward to a hearty conclusion to our feast, but sadly he chose this moment to utter two of the most awful words in the English language.  “Just coffee”.

Tony Attwood

PS:   If you would like me to do a review of your promotional leaflets on the phone – without cost and without a visit to the Bollard – just fax me or mail me a copy of the promotion you would like to discuss.  I will call you back and tell you what I think.  No cost, no obligation, and some of my customers have even suggested that they find this rather  helpful.