Jeremy Corbyn. How the mighty have fallen.


When Jeremy Corbyn scrambled into the Labour throne it was initially slightly comedic but quickly settled into something that most certainly became a breath of fresh air.

Love was in the air.  Something fresh, invigorating, and exciting was blowing through British politics.  It may have been populism, but it was GOOD populism,

For some time I wore this T Shirt to in a small way articulate my disappointment (hatred frankly) with Tony Blair’s New Labour (new Tory more like) neoliberal rhetoric.

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But all of a sudden, under Corbyn that T shirt became redundant.

Instead I opted for this one.  It garnered smiles, back slaps and an incredibly warm response.  Especially from young people who loved Corbyn’s attitude.

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Corbyn was the new face of democratic politics in the UK that almost moved me away from the solid social democracy of the excellent and consistent SNP.

But as Brexit has unfolded he has steadily unravelled and shown himself to be as conceited, party political, AT ALL COSTS, as his disgusting opposite number, Theresa May.  His handling of the anti-semitism accusations was laughable.

Now, imagine him running a whole goddam country.  It doesn’t bear thinking about.

His party is every bit as divided as the Tories and well he knows it.

But it has reached a zenith this week. In particular, his decision not to join May’s cross party ‘outreach’ discussions, that begin today, makes him both unelectable and dangerous.  He has lost the fucking plot.

Sure, May’s  ‘reaching out’ might be in name only – but you’ve got to be in it to win it – and Corbyn is sat sulking, like a stupid little schoolboy, in some corridor while the biggest decision in my political life is made without him.

The look on his face when his vote of no confidence lost was pathetic; a scowling, sulking brat.

Jeremy.  You blew it.

 

Charlie is my darling.


Can you even begin to imagine the excitement I felt when I popped into Whitespace today and was met with this canvas of our dearly beloved Charlie Robertson created by fellow advertising guru, none other than MT Rainey, herself.

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It’s one of the canvases I’ll be auctioning next Thursday at the NABS Art Auction (it has 76 compatriots, with plenty more in transit, many of which have outstanding artistic merit, but none of which quite hit the emotional trigger quite as effectively as this one does, created, as it was, less then ten days after Charlie’s untimely death.)

I’m hoping it will be something of a centrepiece of the auction and that it might attract some fairly hefty bidding.  Indeed I will specifically take bids on it if you email me direct at Markgorman@btopenworld.com.

I’ll let bidders know what the state of play is rather than playing this one out in public.

It’s called “Charlie is me Darlin'” and it’s beautifully printed direct onto the canvas.  The words that make up the image conjure up, for me, the eloquence with which Charlie thrilled and seduced the world of advertising for forty years.

I believe it deserves to be shown somewhere that Charlie’s many admirers might be able to see it for themselves and I hope it can play its part in a memorable night at Whitespace next Thursday 25th October, from 6pm.  There will be a bar and a lively evening of badinage and bidding.  Please let me know if you’d like to attend.

MT.  You’re amazing.  What a superb memory of Charlie’s life.

Slantie.

Charlie Robertson. An inspiration.


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I’ve been plucking up courage for several days now trying to put metaphorical pen to paper about the life of my old chum Charlie Robertson.

I’m not a lifer (as a friend/colleague) so perhaps others are better placed to wax lyrical about him, but he had a profound effect on my life at a particularly impressionable time.

I was a ‘suit’ at The Leith Agency when Charlie appeared.  A returning migrant from London, not just London – BB bloody H – where he’d inspired Vorsprung Durch Technik.

This wasn’t a planner, this was a rock star.  Cue Mick Hucknell gags (OK, that’s it out of the way.  No more. Ed.)

We weren’t worthy, except, actually, we were.

Because Charlie wasn’t the London wanker we feared.

Charlie was just Charlie.

A gifted 5-a-side footballer, cut from the same jib as Jimmy ‘Jinxy’ Johnstone (albeit ‘Jinxy’ was from the wrong side of Charlie’s tracks).

Charlie was a storyteller, a provocateur, a walking brainstorm.  My job was to get the best out of him and we seemed to work really well.  The trick with Charlie was to spot the ball.

The Golden Ball.

Because Charlie would fire out ideas by the shedload, you just had to be in the room at the right time to say “STOP, that’s it Charlie.” And I felt I had a knack for that.

Our finest hour was pitching for Irn Bru, an account The Leith Agency holds to this day.  It must have netted them millions by now. Charlie was the planner, I was the suit, Gerry was the creative director.  It was awesome.

We came second to BB bloody H.  John Hegarty dazzled the Irn Bruers with his charm and sophistication and then went on to produce a pure minger of a commercial, but then Coke knocked on their door.  Irn Bru got booted from BB bloody H and they came back to Leith.  We were ‘a close second’ they had said and it was true.

History began.

I left soon after but that wasn’t the end of my relationship with Charlie.  He worked, through Red Spider, with 1576 from time to time.  We met for beer and red wine from time to time.

Charlie was the real deal.  A proper advertising genius.  A colossal brain and a charm to go with it.

Clients, no people, loved Charlie.  Me one of them.

We will miss his elegant charm and his clever wit.  But most of all we will miss his humanity.

Bye Charlie.  It was great.

Now Jaguar Landrover say they will lose £1bn a year in the face of a hard Brexit. How long can this stupidity go on?


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Airbus has sent out loud warnings.  BMW is saying it will shift production from the UK. Nissan has already had the book thrown at it in terms of financial sops. Now the jewel in the UK’s automotive crown is making noises about the serious financial impacts of a hard Brexit.  Even the bastion of Brexit, The Daily Express, is leading on the Jaguar story with a warning.

Why?  straightforward really.  in the face of no European tariffs deal the cost of cars will go up and the cost of imported parts will increase.

This is not complicated economics to get one’s head around.  And yet, the government;  well, a few morons in the cabinet specifically, continues to be completely undecided about its Brexit strategy, never mind actually negotiating it.

This is all on the back of a wafer thin decision made by an electorate that has now largely woken up to the fact that the leavers voted on a belief that was founded on a bunch of lies.

£300+million extra a week for the NHS.  Does ANYONE now believe that?

We run an Air B’nB so have continental visitors day in day out.   Every single one of them, bar none, simply shake their heads in disbelief when conversation turns to Brexit.

We’re not in the Euro, so we face none off the risk that brings.  Our banks service trillions of £’s of European money with no strings.  We have no trade tariffs and anyone who thinks Europe will play it easy on that front should look at the Trump scenario.

We are in a brilliant position for trading with our biggest customer (and supplier).

A few sociopaths threaten the UK’s economic health through their mental health problems.

I still believe a second referendum is justified, fair and sensible.

No, not sensible.  Sane.