The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]


In Blog Years, We Are Officially 10487492367 Years Old On Sunday.
May 1, 2026, 5:15 am
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.

Comments Off on In Blog Years, We Are Officially 10487492367 Years Old On Sunday.


Forget Dorothy The Dinosaur, Say Hello To Robert …
June 3, 2025, 7:15 am
Filed under: 2025, Birthday, Childhood, Dad, Death, Immaturity, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Childhood, My Fatherhood, Old, Parents

So it’s June.

That means we’re 6 months into the year already – WHATTHEACTUAL?!

It’s going to be a big month for me …

I’ve got a bunch of big meetings, a bunch of big travel, the small matter of giving a talk – with Paula – at Cannes and turning FIFTYFUCKINGFIVE.

Jesus Christ … I am now, proper old.

I appreciate the difference between 54 and 55 doesn’t seem massive, but let me tell you it is.

You see over the past few weeks, I’ve been receiving letters from the UK about my pension.

I’d never really received these before so it seemed a bit strange … strange enough for me to call them to find out what the hell was going on. And that’s where 2 things happened that shook me to my core.

The first was that they were letting me know that I was approaching a time where I could either ‘cash them in’ or move them into a different scheme. Given I’ve not lived in the UK for most of my adult life, there’s not much in there so I’ve never really paid attention to it.

It was at this point I asked how could I cash it in if I chose to … to which the very kind woman on the end of the line said:

“You just contact us 6 weeks before you turn 55 and we make it happen for you”.

I paused for a moment before replying,

“We are 6 weeks before I turn 55”.

And let me tell you, she was as shocked as me with that news – albeit her shock was because she hadn’t checked my date-of-birth whereas my shock was I could cash in – should I choose – my fucking pension.

How was this possible?

Pensions are for when people are ancient.

A 1000 years into the future. How the hell am I eligible for mine now?

But I guess I am … because I am ancient.

So ancient, I’m only 5 years off when my Dad died – which is terrifying for a whole host of obvious and less obvious reasons.

Except I don’t feel 55.

In fact, I feel younger than I have in decades. I am healthier too.

But despite that – and the fact my maturity level still resides around 14 years of age – you can’t stop getting older however hard you may try, so no doubt I am on the path to playing bowls each afternoon, complaining about the kids in the neighborhood ‘for making too much noise’ and smelling of wee. Or something.

And just remember before you all take the piss out of me.

You’ve got all this coming … so don’t be too cocky, because the one good thing about getting old, is you don’t give a fuck about keeping your mouth shut.

Not that I’ve ever had a problem with that – which I’ve literally just realized why Rupert Howell used to say I was the youngest old person he had ever met.

Oh God, as Monday’s go, this one sucks balls.

Happy fucking June.

Comments Off on Forget Dorothy The Dinosaur, Say Hello To Robert …


Tell Me ….
October 28, 2022, 8:15 am
Filed under: Cats, Colenso, Colleagues, Immaturity, Rosie

… you love Queen, your cat Rosie and you share an office with other cat lovers without telling me you love Queen, your cat Rosie and you share an office with other cat lovers.

I tell you what, however bad the day may be, this will make me happy.

Despite the judging, displeased look on all their faces.

Kate Maitland, you are a bloody genius.

Have a great weekend everyone.

Comments Off on Tell Me ….


A Trifle Untrifle …
August 2, 2022, 8:15 am
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Food, Immaturity

I admit I have terrible taste.

I don’t mean in fashion or music, I mean in food.

The food I like is the food foodie people, hate.

It’s so bad, that on the occasions I get to fly business class, I ask for an economy meal. That is unless it’s the Chicken Satay on Singapore Airlines, then I will definitely have that.

Pathetic?

Oh I know …

Which is why I’m about to hit peak ‘first world problems’ with this post.

A few weeks ago I found myself in Melbourne.

I’d just enjoyed an ENOURMOUS Chicken Kiev – or, as it should be known, a Chicken Kyiv – when they offered me the dessert menu.

Among all the poncey, fancy stuff was a trifle.

A TRIFLE.

Trifles for me were a childhood party staple.

Strawberry Jelly. Custard. Sponge Fingers. Cream.

When you served it, it would make a sound like a Wellington Boot being pulled out the mud. It was glorious, gratuitous splodge and I bloody loved it.

So of course I ordered it and waited with glee.

My first clue should have been the dish it was served in.

It was fancy as fuck.

It’s the one at the top of this page.

My second clue was that it looked like a complete trifle rather than the road accident the typical served trifle resembled.

But if that didn’t get me, the taste did.

Instead of being transported to my childhood, I was taken to a place I didn’t belong.

Refined tastes of ingredients that don’t ever belong in a trifle.

Lemon.
Coconut.
Rose water jelly.

And don’t even get me started on the custard.

More insipid than a Tory councillor at election time.

The whole experience was this blend of bland and sour … literally ruining trifles and my childhood for ever.

I’m sure people with a evolved palette would love it.

However for people from Nottingham … it was edible violence.

But then, I do love Angel Delight, butterscotch flavour and Viennetta.

Comments Off on A Trifle Untrifle …


Another Day, Another Postbox Post …

No, I don’t know what’s with all the postbox posts [even though in reality, there’s only been 2 in 16 years] but just like that old adage of ‘you wait for a bus and then 2 come at once’ … here is a second post about postboxes in a week.

First of all, DO NOT PANIC.

It is not as sentimental as yesterday’s.

Probably.

But recently someone sent me a photo of this …

Yes, that’s a sticker rather than a real ‘blue plaque’.

Yes, it’s about Danger Mouse rather than a real* historical figure.

But it’s still absolutely fucking awesome.

For those who don’t know what a blue plaque is a permanent sign installed in public places that commemorate a link between that specific location and a famous person, event, or a former building that serves as a historical marker.

[Yes, I did get that from Wikipedia]

For those who don’t know who Danger Mouse is … then I just feel sorry for you, because he’s the best. At least the 80’s version of him … not to mention his sidekick, Penfold – who a certain past commentator on this blog once said I had an alarming resemblance to.

Though he also once said that about the comedian Harry Hill … all because that I once turned up at a Coca-Cola event in a suit.

That said, when I look at a photo of that event – from 1996 – even I have to admit there is more than a passing resemblance to both of them. Though as tragic as that is, I ended up winning ‘best dressed’ for simply not wearing shit jeans and an ironic t-shirt, which pleased me no end but pissed off all the very glamorous female guests who were in attendance.

Anyway, if you need more info on Danger Mouse, please go here.

And to see me – I mean Penfold – please go here.

Or just look at this …

But the real reason I love this letterbox with the Danger Mouse blue circle as a sticker is that someone did it.

They decided it would be worth while doing.

Which means having the idea.
Designing it.
Getting it made.
Then going to the postbox on Baker Street in London – where Danger Mouse lives – and sticking it there.
And not just anywhere on the postbox, but low – where DM enters and leaves his place.

Some may say that’s madness.

Some may say that’s a waste of time and money.

But to me, that’s an act of wonderfulness.

A true commitment to craft, creativity and authenticity.

And what’s better is that while many may miss it, those who see it not only love it … but tell people about it. Which is a lot more than many of the multi-million, 48 sheet billboard, TV ads and digital DTC campaigns ever achieve.

So to whoever did this. Thank you.

You restored my faith in craft, commitment and ridiculousness.

And reignited my love of Danger Mouse. [But not Penfold]

__________________________________________________________________________

* Even though Danger Mouse was a fictional character, he lives in my memories and heart and that’s more than some living, breathing people … which means Danger Mouse is real to me. Deal with it.