Tat Pot (PR Watch No. 3)

Phil has decided that my new nick name is Tat Pot. It's a hilarious mixture of Pol Pot, Tin Pot Dictator, Crack Pot and Tatton. Poor Pol Pot must be turning in his grave.

The fact is, Phil actually IS Norman Tebbit. They've never been seen together, spout the same sort of nonsense and both claim to like cycling. Joking aside, our world is a crazy place. On Saturday, listening to David Hitlerry's Any Questions, I found MYSELF agreeing with Norman Tebbit who was saying he didn't agree that Ken Livingstone should have been suspended. Can you Adam and Eve it - Tat Pot agreeing with the Chelmsford Skinhead?

My personal crusade against greed in the media has been given another boost today. By Lord Archer promoting his book - completely without any difficult questions on Richard and Judy. I have found the article which told me about them being able to make money from selling books they're promoting - it was in last week's Time Out. A new ruling from Ofcom.

Then there was the wife of an Economist employee promoting the magazine in a 'feature' in today's Media Guardian.

There was a speaker from the 'Corporate Social Responsibility Foundation' on Radio 4's Today on Friday. Doesn't come up on google - what the hell was that all about? Yet more corruption.

There will be people in PR companies in London who are calculating exactly how much free advertising this is for the multinationals as I type. Idiots.

Cat found - Ofcom watch out

Yes, Marmite was found outside trapped in our neighbour's courtyard. Miaowing her head off, and then her goldfish memory proving that human beings are superior to cats - she ran away from me when I came to rescue her.

Then Trotsky hissed at her - as her poor sister didn't recognise her either. But they're back to their old selves now, busy hopping from table to (incredibly expensive) record player.

Now I'm happy again, rather than dedicate hours of my time to reading semi-shit autobiographies of bitches, I can restart the Tatton campaign to introduce good old fashioned philanthropy into society - starting with an attack on Ofcom. Their conflict of interest register on the internet is practically as long as the Koran itself, and over my dead body if they're starting to deregulate further the already pathetically regulated so-called 'free press' or advertising industry as it should be called.

Every day the BBC gets worse - its breakfast programme could just be called 'Press Releases of Conglomorates'. The Today programme could be called 'Sell'. Well, ok it's not quite as bad, although they didn't have anyone challenging Sir Digby Jones the other day when he laid into trade unions...

PR Watch

The thing about PR is it's essentially free advertising. But who regulates it?

Myself at the moment.

The Sunday Times magazine last week (5th Feb).

8 articles. 7 of those are essentially selling something or someone's services. Nicky Clarke - advertising hairdressing, Suzi Qattro selling her new album. Bryan Sykes, a DNA expert selling his DNA company's servcies. Jeremy Irons selling his acting services. Diana princess of wales story - advertising an auction house. The National Portrait Gallery advertising its Wlliam Shakespeare portrait and a children's charity advertising itself. Then in the newspaper another childrens charity with a three page puff.

I am on a rubbish mailing list at work. I know when stuff's been sent from it because I'm 'Catton' on it. On Friday a glossy 122 full colour 'magazine' called 'Public Service Review: Health' came through.

Can we get one or two celebrities to back 'Keep Our NHS Public'?

When you've got the Daily Express backing a 'ban Inheritance Tax' campaign, probably initiated by The Queen and Dr Fox saying that there should be a maximum tax rate in the sunday Times, yet not saying how much he earns, I just start putting on Coldplay's 'Parachutes' to cheer me up.

'Everything's not lost'

PR Watch

There seem to be plenty of 'media watch' type campaigning organisations. When darling Phil eventually teaches me 1% of everything he knows about computers, and I manage to put links up here I'm going to refer to them.

I'm also going to set up 'PR Watch' to keep a check on PR. Every other bit of journalism you read is basically trying to sell you something. Why aren't they officially paying for it? Surely it's corrupt!

Bishop Ba Ba of Boob

We decided that if Phil was around in the 1820s he'd be Bishop Ba Ba of Boob.

I want to create a more open society

The problem with having an open society - is first of all, how do you define it? Secondly, am I sure I'll want it when I get it?

For the first question - an open society is a society based on peace and other idealistic values like love, health and laughter. Having a society based on fear promotes privacy.

The second question - I think I may be being too idealistic. For example, when I started work at the organisation I currently work for, I loved it. I loved those in charge at the top, I could see where they were coming from, their ideas, and why they were doing what they were doing. I liked the way they communicated. They appeared to listen to lowly people like me, who were relatively speaking, at the bottom of the organisation. They were very open with us and told us what was what. There appeared to be relatively little bullshit.

Just over six months ago after the issuing of the-document-which-I-will-not-refer-to-as-it-is-tosh-wank my idealistic dreams were shattered. Suddenly everything's changed and all these people who I loved who were in charge of me are telling me to shut up - virtually on a daily basis. And I tell them to shut up - by shouting at them when they speak to me in their condescending tones on the Today progamme.

You see openness is fine and lovely when it's a beautiful sunny day on the beach. But when the bastards start pelting you with shit, you start thinking, actually if I could get together with a couple of like minded people, build a little hut in the mud, which we used to call the beach and then start secretly finding out the bastards' game plan so we can move to another beach, or preferably another fucking planet. Suddenly a little peace and quiet, a secret space where we could hijack the shit propelling bastards seems much more appealling than the dreaded mud tornado the beach has turned into.

Just reading this blog makes me realise how influential tonight's TV programme has been; 'How Safe is your house' was a really scary reportage style TV show which demonstrated the dangers of fire, gas leaks, tornados and floods.

I've changed my mind. I don't want an open society. I want to live in a fortress behind steel plated fire proof doors and ten thousand alarm systems which alert me to fire, floods, pestilence, wind, earth and fire again. I want to be shielded from the truth at every opportunity because the truth is scary and dangerous. I just want to think about the next ten seconds...