Ooh look, what’s that? It’s my navel…
Flicking through the pages of PR Week (probably the UK’s leading weekly PR publication) always reminds me what a ridiculously tiny industry this is, especially when narrowed even further into a specialism such as technology.
Invariably there are always half a dozen people in there that I know. I don’t just mean ‘know of’, I mean proper ‘met, worked for, shared a drink/meal/bed with, immediately email to tell them I’ve sent heir ugly mug in PR Week’ know.
It’s more like a local paper in that respect (the Bromley Guardian rather than the Yorkshire Post, mind). People can relate to the story about the fire in the local chippy because they’ve been there and bought a saveloy…in the same way that we can relate to Adrian Wheeler launching a new consultancy because we’ve seen him doing his Richard E. Grant turn at endless PR conferences. We scour the pages looking for people we know and agencies we’ve been, ridiculing the ‘My Best Hires’ and looking all casual in the Appointments pages.
On the front of PR Week it says £3.20. Why is that? I’ve never met anyone who’s actually paid for one…just those that swoop on the numerous copies that drop onto plush doormats across the West End every week, quickly ripping through the flimsy sellophane to disguise the fact that it wasn’t actually addressed to them.
It’s a funny little rag…like a dirty secret. I shouldn’t like it, but I do. On the tube I always keep my copy hidden inside the latest ‘Animal Rimmer’, just to save my embarrassment.