Filed under: 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, America, Asia, Auckland, Authenticity, Bonnie, Cats, China, Comment, Content, Context, Craft, Creativity, Dad, Daddyhood, Death, Design, Emotion, England, Family, Freddie, Happiness, Harmony, Jill, LaLaLand, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, Music, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Names, Otis, Queen, Resonance, Respect, Rosie, Shanghai, Tattoo
I got my first tattoo when I was 42.
I was holidaying in LA, saw a tattoo shop and – after some encouragement from my friend Paul – went in and had a big one on the underside of my arm.
Hey, nothing like jumping all in eh.
But from that moment, the tattoo became something very important to me.
To be honest, I’d always wanted one but chickened out because of the fear of pain – but not only did it not hurt at all [in fact I fall asleep when I have them] I discovered it the ultimate way to express my sentimentality towards people, dates and things that held a very significant place in my life.
Since that day way back in 2012, I’ve had loads of tattoos.
Birthdays.
Postcodes.
Phone numbers.
Signatures.
Names, pictures and paws of pets.
Honoring Mum, Dad, Jill, Otis and China.
Personal philosophies and heroes.
Nottingham Forest and Queen.
Some weird shit for some friends.
And nods to LA, UK, NZ and Italy.
There’s not one that I regret because each and every one of them is there for a reason.
No ‘moments of stupidity’.
No ‘this would be good for a laugh’.
No ‘tribal or badly translated rubbish’.
Each tattoo represents something deeply important and significant to me – even if to the causal observer, it may look like I have a bunch of random and weird stuff across my arms.
I say all this because recently, Otis asked if I had any tattoos for him, to which I proudly pointed to the one of his name and his date of birth.
And while he seemed moderately pleased with this, it apparently wasn’t enough because he asked if he could design one … a tattoo that captured who he was and what he believed. And I stupidly said ‘yes’, which is why I am currently in negotiations with him to decide which of these will be inked upon my body in the next few weeks.
For the record, the reason the potential designs are all in type is because I don’t have any room on my arms for a picture and he wants to ensure it is something that can be – and will be – seen at all times, haha.
Now before you think I’m blindly pandering to my son’s whims and wants … he genuinely loves rice. In fact he has it every night for dinner which he claims is because he was born in China … so while his tastes may well change or evolve over time, ‘Rice Is Life’ does capture who he is and what he believes, which means – for me – it ticks all the criteria boxes needed to go out and make it a permanent symbol on my body.
The ad industry could learn from kids for their powers of persuasion.
Filed under: 2020, 2023, 2024, 2025, 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Advertising [Planning] School On The Web, Agency Culture, Anniversary, Aspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Australia, Authenticity, Bangkok Shakes, Bank Ads, Bassot, BBH, Billionaire, Birkenhead, Birkenstocks, Birthday, Black Lives Matter, Bonnie, Brand, Brand Suicide, Brian Clough, British, Business, Campaign Magazine, Canada, Cannes, Career, Cats, Chaos, Charinee, Childhood, Children, China, Chris Jaques, Clients, Clothes, Colenso, Collaboration, Colleagues, Comment, Community, Complicity, Confidence, Conformity, Content, Context, Contribution, Corona Virus, Corporate Gaslighting, Creativity, Culture, Curiosity, Cynic, Dad, Daddyhood, David Terry, Death, Deutsch, Din Tai Fung, Disney, Distinction, Dog, Dolly, Dream Bigger, Dream Small, Dysgraphia, Education, Egovertising, Embarrassing Moments, Emotion, Empathy, England, Entertainment, Experience, Family, Fatherhood, Fear, Football, Freddie, Freelance, Friendship, Fulfillment, Gaming, Goodbye America, Goodbye China, Goodbye England, Goose Fair, Government, Grand announcements, Happiness, Harmony, Headers, HHCL, Holiday, Home, Hong Kong, Hope, HSBC, human_2, Imagination, Immaturity, Important Birthdays, India, Innocence, Innovation, Insight, Internet, Interviews, Italy, Japan, Jaques, Jill, Jillyism, Jorge, Katie, Kev, LaLaLand, Leadership, Linkedin, Logic, London, Love, Loyalty, Luck, Luxury, Management, Marcus, Marketing, Marketing Fail, Marketing Science, Martin Weigel, Maya, Mediocrity, Mental Health, Metallica, Michael Jordan, Michael Mann, Miley, Mr Ji, Mum, Mum & Dad, Music, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Netflix, New Zealand, NHS, Northern, Nottingham, Nottingham Forest, Nurses, olympics, OnStrategy, Otis, Parents, Paul, Paula, Pearl Jam, Perspective, Photography, Planes, Planners, Planning, Point Of View, Police, Popularity, Prams, Prejudice, Pretentious Rubbish, Pride, Process, Professionalism, Queen, R/GA, Relationships, Relevance, Reputation, Research, Resonance, Respect, Rick Rubin, Rockstar Games, Rodi, RoObin, Ros, Rosie, RulesOfRubin, Shanghai, Shelly, Si Vicars, Silvana, Singapore, Sport, Spotify, Starbucks, Steve Jobs, Strategy, Stubborness, Stupid, Success, Sunshine, Sydney, Taboo Categories, Talent, Tattoo, Technology, The Kennedys, The Kennedys Shanghai, Toxic Positivity, Uncorporated, Virgin Atlantic, Viz, Wedding, WeigelCampbell, Wieden+Kennedy
Yes, it’s Friday.
And yes, it’s the first of May.
But neither of those things are as incredible as this …
You see, on Sunday, it will be 20 years since I started this blog.
TWENTY BLOODY YEARS!
That’s before the iPhone.
And Android.
And Facebook.
And the Kindle.
And the financial crisis.
And before Pluto lost its planet creds.
AND BEFORE WI-FI WAS PUBLICLY AVAILABLE … so a very long time ago.
I still remember why I started it …
It wasn’t for any attempt for notoriety or popularity, it was more to do with survival.
You see I’d got a job that – frankly – I was woefully under-qualified for, and because it demanded so much of my time and energy to make sure I didn’t completely fuck it up, I needed an outlet for all the ideas and thoughts that were going around my head that I just didn’t feel were right for what I needed to do at that time.
Not because I was sure I was going to use them later … more because I needed to feel I was still connected to the stuff I loved while also believing that if I didn’t find a way to get them out of my head, they’d maybe be no more space left for anything new to enter my head.
And so this blog was born.
Reading through the first few posts not only reveals the times we were living in, but also the headspace I was in.
Trying to balance making sense of stuff happening around me while also needing an outlet for stuff I was feeling or thinking … which, in many ways, set the tone for how this blog has been for over 2 decades.
Which George recently described as, “the blog version of TK Maxx”.
He’s not wrong … and in some ways, I really like that.
Sure, among the almost 5000 posts I’ve written, there’s a lot of [to keep the TK Maxx analogy going] cheap and nasty shit in there … but there’s also a few ‘designer label’ gems hidden amongst it all.
At least for me.
Stuff that made me think, challenge or question stuff in ways that I had not imagined or considered before.
Stuff that ended up impacting how I did things and how I still do things.
Stuff that forced me to articulate what I believe, not just what I feel.
Maybe those posts meant nothing to anyone but me. Hell, maybe no one even read them. But while every post I’ve written reflects something about who I was – or am – those ‘self-defined gems’ have a special place in my heart because they represent a moment where I felt I was growing and learning.
It’s why I always enjoyed the comment section, because for all the overwhelming piss-taking I received, the vast majority always ‘encouraged’ me to look deeper, wider or longer at issues I’d written about. And I loved that. I loved how the people who commented always kept me on my toes … which is why one of the unexpected pleasures of writing this blog for so long has been seeing how my opinion on certain subjects has changed or evolved over the years. It’s served as a great reminder about the importance of always exposing yourself to others perspectives, opinions, experiences and standards, even if the goal of it is simply to be really sure about what you think or believe.
In many ways, that’s the biggest surprise of 20 years writing this blog.
I never expected anyone to comment on anything I wrote, because I started it just for me.
A private place to express my thoughts and idiocy.
But then Andy discovered it and he sent an email to everyone at Cynic and some of our clients announcing it and then the mayhem started.
At that point, blogging had become a big thing. A good thing. A community of people who wanted to help and contribute to what others were doing. A lot of this was down to the great Russell Davies and his iconic blog … a place that not only brought people from all over the world together, but inspired others to start writing their own as well.
It was a place that not only exposed me to a lot of brilliant people I’d never have known about without his blog – people like Gareth Kay, Paul Colman, Northern Planner, Rob Mortimer, Marcus, John Dodds, Lauren, Age to name but a few – it also brought people to my blog who helped add to the texture, lessons and perspectives I was writing about.
I will forever be grateful to Russell for that … especially as most of the people he inadvertently introduced me to, not only still exist in my life but I have met them all IN THE FLESH.
Alas the blogging community, like most things in life, has moved on with maybe only Martin and I still churning stuff out via that platform. [Well, he curates, I churn] And while technologies advances allows strategists to be even more connected in even more ways, the energy of the community is not the same as it was back in the early days of blogging.
Now it feels more aggressive.
More sharp elbows and self publicizing.
Wanting the spotlight on them rather than the work they do.
But then, the industry seems to value those who talk about the work more than those who actually make it … which kind-of highlights why the industry is in the state it finds itself in but refuses to acknowledge.
Emperor’s New Clothes anyone?!
Screenshot
That this blog is 20 years old blows my mind. I never thought it would last that long, mainly because I never gave much thought about how long I’d be writing the thing. It’s not always been fun – when I was receiving a lot of anonymous hate that resulted in me deciding to stop allowing comments was definitely a low point – but all in all, the whole experience has been pretty glorious.
In many ways, this is one of the longest committed relationships I’ve ever had.
And one of the most successful, hahaha.
The fact there are some people who have been reading it for almost as long as I have been writing it, is madness.
Have they no taste?
Have they got nothing better to do?
Or maybe they’re stuck in prison and this is part of their ‘sentence’.
The good news for them is there’s no way this will still be a ‘going concern’ in another 20 years … at least not in terms of how regular I’ve been writing posts for the past 2 decades. Not because I am running out of things to say [albeit Andy said I have only ever written 3 posts and just keep re-writing them in different ways] but because I’ll be – hopefully – doing other things with my life.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll always be grateful to advertising … it has given me a life I never could have dared to imagine … but I am increasingly spending more and more of my time working and collaborating with artists and I feel that’s where my future may be. Not because I don’t love what I do, but because I find their definition and expression of creativity even more interesting, challenging, open, provocative and progressive than where our industry is choosing to head.
But that’s not going to happen yet. Hell, it may not happen at all – I could get fired by all the artists tomorrow for all I know – which is why for the time being, I’ll keep happily juggling my two ‘lives’ while churning out daily blog posts at the same time.
Sorry, hahaha.
That said, the point of continuing this blog is different to what you may think and why I originally started it.
Because while it has helped me grow, learn, make new friends and even help build my professional reputation [which is hilarious when you read some of the stuff I’ve churned out, like this!] … it delivers something that is even more important to me.
Connection to my family.
I know … I know … that sounds weird-as-fuck, but what I mean is this:
A few years ago, Jill said that while she rarely ever reads my blog, when she does – she can hear my voice because of the way I write.
Put simply, how I write is how I talk … so when she reads my posts, it feels like I’m with her.
And she liked that.
Add to this that I’ve shared deeply personal and important moments in my life – from getting engaged to getting married, to Mum dying, to becoming a Dad, to getting Rosie – and Bonnie – to saying a tearful goodbye to Rosie, to moving from Singapore to HK to China to America to London to New Zealand [so far] … which means moving from cynic/WPP to Sunshine to Wieden+Kennedy to Deutsch to R/GA to Colenso [not to mention all the other highs and lows that have impacted or been introduced to my life over this period, be it death, covid, friends, family, health, books, chaos, and/or multitudes of weird, wild, crazy shit] … and this blog is no longer just a place where I rant rubbish, it’s a place my family can have me close even when I’m no longer here.
That means a lot to me.
Not because I want them to need me, but because I like knowing they can access me should they ever need me.
Or if Otis ever wants to introduce me to whoever becomes important in his life.
It’s why I’m going to keep writing it and why I’m going to move it to a free domain again, to make sure it always stay up … because what originally was a place just for me, has become a place that offers connection to the most important people to me.
And with that, I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has ever visited or commented.
Whether you meant it or not, you’ve given me far more than I ever imagined or hoped for.
Thank you. Love you. Grateful for you.
Filed under: 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Children, Complicity, Culture, Daddyhood, Dance, Emotion, Empathy, Experience, Family, Fatherhood, Generosity, Happiness, Love, Loyalty, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents, Respect
A few years ago, I wrote about how some people think they have the right to judge your kid.
And your parenting.
I also noted how I’d been suckered into validating their commentary.
Until I came to my senses.
The story is Otis was – and still is – an energetic kid.
When we lived in Shanghai, LA and London, we would go out a lot and he would be a whirlwind of excited, happy energy.
It was – admitedly – relentless.
Whether 3pm or 3am, he seemed to always want to play, smile, laugh, do things with his adoring parents.
Often, when we were out, we would see people looking at him running around the park, shouting to himself … and then saying to me, “he’s got a lot of energy hasn’t he?”
And while they weren’t saying it as a diss, they weren’t saying it as a compliment either.
What makes it worse is I would reply with a weary, “you better believe it”.
Then one day I realised what I was doing.
My son … my wonderful, brilliant, joyous son was being judged by his Dad.
Worse, he did it to let perfect strangers feel justified in their fucked-up judgement.
What the hell?!
Otis wasn’t doing anything wrong … plus he was 2 or 3 years old for fucks sake.
More than that, he has always had a very strong sense of justice and fairness and so the last thing he would ever want to do is cause others discomfort.
And he wasn’t, he was just running around … exploering and experiencing the World.
I felt an immense amount of anger – more at myself, but definitely at the ‘critics’ as well – and vowed that would never happen again.
And it didn’t and it doesn’t.
Because when anyone said/say’s that to me about Otis, I now reply … “I know, isn’t it great”, and they always look at me before slowly nodding, either because they feel they have to or because they realise the problem isn’t my kid, but their increasingly small mindedness and old-person energy.
I say this because I recently watched this …
I am sure there will be people out there who will say it’s unprofessional.
That her actions are encouraging her child to be more ‘needy and demanding’.
That she just made a huge career limiting move, undermining all the hard work she has put in.
And they’re entitled to their opinion except it doesn’t matter.
Not in the slightest, however much you think it does or tell yourself it does.
Hell, even if you were one of the judges critiquing her dance, it doesn’t … because while you may have a certain amount of power in your hands in terms of what the implications of her actions will be, the reality is they won’t care.
Because whatever you think is more important than their child, you’re wrong.
They may do things you wouldn’t.
They may value things that you think they shouldn’t.
Their child may need things you would never consider.
But it’s NOT YOUR CHILD so it literally doesn’t matter.
In fact, unless you think the child is in real danger – or a cause of real danger to others – you should be minding your own business. And even if they are in – or causing – danger, your actions should be pointed to people who can legally or professionally help, rather than think you have unconditional rights.
I love what this gymnast did.
For me, it was beautiful both in terms of her talent and her love.
Even more so, at a time where Linkedin is overflowing with people acting like ‘winning justifies any sacrifice’.
With AI impacting our lives in increasingly dramatic ways, ‘family’ is the one thing AI can never replace.
It will try.
But it will fail.
Because while family is universal, it’s deeply personal and individual … which is why the best advice for anyone thinking of discussing/judging/commenting on the innocent actions or behaviour of a child that isn’t yours, is this.
“Are you the parents of the child?”
If not, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
You’re welcome.
Good news: I am away until Friday so you can enjoy a few days peace after that rant-fest.
You’re welcome. Again.
Filed under: 2025, 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, Age, Attitude & Aptitude, Colenso, Colleagues, Doctor, Eye, Generosity, Happiness, Health, Hope, Metallica, NHS, Nurses, Process
It’s Monday. In the first few weeks of going back to work after a longish break. And all we are hearing is shit, depressing news from all over the World … so you would imagine today’s post would continue that theme of darkness, and yet it isn’t.
No seriously. It’s bordering on embarrassingly cheery and happy. Admittedly, cheery and happy for me – but given so many people have contributed to the reason for this, I’m hoping it has some positive effect on you too.
So as the title of this post states – a lot can happen in 12 months.
I appreciate you’re saying “no shit”, but as I pointed out, I’m not talking about global events, tech companies or the economy … I’m talking about this from a very, very personal point of view.
Truth be told, when you get to my age, a lot of life has found its natural rhythm so while there will be ups and downs, overall you tend to know how to surf life’s waves.
But the last year for me was pretty extreme.
Don’t get me wrong, the overall view of the year was good – as I wrote about here – but apart from the tragedy of losing many friends and a fucked-up situation with someone I thought was a better human than they proved themselves to be, the biggest challenge I faced was my sight.
I’ve had eye problems since I was 21 but in January 2025, my ‘good’ eye got an infection in Penang, Malaysia that commenced one of the worst medical rollercoasters I’ve had in my life.
And I’ve had a few.
What was initially considered to be a few weeks of discomfort turned into weekly – often daily – hospital visits, endless tests, a range of medical experts being called in, over 50 meds-a-day, a diagnosis so rare it become a medical ‘white paper’ and … worst of all … blindness.
Proper blindness.
The impact of all this on my mental health was pretty severe. To be honest, I hadn’t really realised how much until the festive holiday where my body had the time to finally start to loosen the tension it had been holding – and this was despite visiting a psychologist both after a particularly bad test result and when I was weighing up whether to do the operation as the risks were pretty high.
I say all this because last week I went in for another check-up. My first of the new year … and while the operation had been a success – thanks to my doctor, my surgeons and the intervention of the wonderful PM and his high profile ‘clients’, who organised the specialist who actually invented the operation I was going to have, to come to NZ and consult on my procedure – we didn’t know if it would turnaround my situation.
The good news was after the op, I had some vision – which was a massive news, however I couldn’t see much other than certain blurs of beige.
But over the weeks, with the post-op meds, rest and time – I did sense things were improving, but given one of the issues I had was pressure build up [which you don’t feel] I was pretty apprehensive.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, my check-up revealed the pressure was very good – as in, ‘fully under control’, which meant the main part of the operation had not just worked, but was holding. But then the shockingly good news.
My eyesight was better than my other eye.
That’s right, my operated eye was – under certain conditions – performing better than the eye I’d been relying on for the past 12 months. The irony being that eye was previously shit given my detached retina when I was 21 … but such is the magic of the brain, it has somehow improved to compensate for for my blindness, but now – as the other eye was getting better – it decided not to try so hard.
I cannot tell you what it felt like to hear that.
To be fair, even the specialist and surgeon were shocked at the level and speed of improvement … but they have not just given me the ability to see again, they’ve almost returned my eyesight to pre-illness levels.
No more bumping into people.
No more having my phone screen on max zoom.
No more going to hospital every day and week.
And maybe, no more dressing like a ‘festival chick’ for the Colenso Christmas party.
[Which happened post-op so I literally have zero excuse, haha]
I know, your eyes are now fucked after that image aren’t they. Sorry. At least I can recommend some excellent medical experts. You’re welcome – hahaha.
Anyway, while I’ll need medication for the rest of my life, have regular check-ups and be mindful of lifting heavy items … it really feels like I’ve been given my whole life back.
I know that sounds dramatic. I know there are many others worse off than I ever was or would have been. And I appreciate I was very lucky that I saw a GP quickly … they recognised the severity of the problem straight away … and I had the insurance – and unexpected contacts – who got me the best specialists and surgeons in the country (and worldwide) but there were moments where I felt, with good reason, that the life I had may be taken away from me.
I know I’d have survived.
I know I’d have got through it.
But the problem is at the time, you focus on what’s going to change rather than what you’re going to do … which is why I’m so grateful to everyone who helped, supported and encouraged me over the past 12 months.
From family and friends to nurses and doctors to colleagues and clients to acquaintances and strangers. All of you helped make sure that however dark some moments were, the light was never completely out. Even it is was in my eye. Ha.
So thank you. Thank you so, so much.
And god bless medicine and all you work with it and practice it. At a time where we have global leaders trying to diminish and undermine medical science and medical care, it’s the doctors and nurses we should be listening to, celebrating and compensating – they’re the hero’s, not the entitled egotists who claim to represent the people but only care for themselves.
And if I thought I could see through their bullshit before, I can see it even more clearly now.
Literally and metaphorically.
So with that, happy Monday … but probably not as happy as I will be.
Filed under: 2026, A Bit Of Inspiration, Comment, Effectiveness, Food, Happiness, Health
Once upon a time, I was very athletic.
I played rugby for the school.
I was one of the fastest 100m runners in the county.
I played football with my mates every single night of the week.
I loved everything, and then – aged 21 – I got a detached retina and everything changed.
The seriousness and fragility of my eye meant anything that could cause trauma was off limits – so apart from not being allowed to do any sport, I wasn’t even allowed to lift anything heavy … and so very quickly, I went from active life, to sedentary life.
Unsurprisingly – yet ironically – the impact of this shift meant that while my eye was OK, the rest of me wasn’t.
And this was my normal for over 30 years.
That doesn’t mean I was happy with what was happening, I wasn’t. In fact, in my darkest days, I really hated it. I hated me.
Who I was. How I looked. How I felt.
And what made things worse was I didn’t know how I could change it.
My eye was still fragile. My work was full-on. And food was one of the only things that gave me momentary joy.
But – as I have documented in the past – things changed 2 years ago when I was convinced to eat well for 3 months.
What’s hilarious is this was not because of my weight, but something else entirely … but something inside of me clicked, and I mentally chose to do it, rather than argue against it.
One of the biggest surprises was how much I relied on food to manage stress. You’d think that would have been obvious but it wasn’t. I remember how one of the things I did was go for a walk every time I found myself going to the fridge outside of breakfast, lunch or dinner.
So I walked a lot.
A hell of a lot.
So much so that it not only was the biggest contributor to me getting healthy again – arguably, healthier than I ever have been – but it got me falling in love with walking and now, running.
That image at the top of the page is a perfect example of that. It is my December result.
That’s right, I walked over 750,000 steps. Over 550 kms.
For someone who used to complain about walking the bin up his drive, that’s pretty amazing.
But then, it was December as I’ve detailed many a time … NZ festive season holidays are brilliantly long.
However, just to prove that was not a fluke, here’s the results of last week.
Yep, proportionally, I walked more than when I was on holiday!
How?
Well, let’s just say I have a lot of walking meetings …
Plus, the more I walk, the more I can eat the bad stuff I bloody love, haha.
But this is just to say, if exercise freaks you out, start with walking … doesn’t matter how far you go … because as long as you do a little bit each day, you’ll not just seamlessly improve on what you can do, but also who you are and who you can become.
Not because weight defines that, but feeling a bit healthier does.
Happy to chat to anyone who wants help with it.
Probably while I’m out walking.