The great Google betrayal.

Like so many love affairs, our relationship with Google arrived unexpectedly, blossomed fabulously and soured rapidly and bitterly.

We've thought fondly of companies before - Cadbury for their caring, socialist roots; Virgin for their casual entrepreneurship; Levis for covering our legs with such aplomb. But Google was something else.

Formed by Larry Page and Sergey Brin in 1998, with a mission 'to organise the world's information and make it universally accessible and useful' - the site wasn't the first search engine. Indeed, at the time, Yahoo! ruled the roost with misplaced confidence. When Page and Brin offered their company to Yahoo! they passed, leaving the path clear for the newer service to flourish at an unimaginable rate.

Google's appeal rests on three key elements. It is free to access, its homepage is irresistibly simple and it has always promoted a 'groovy' culture. The HQ is known as the 'Googleplex', developers are encouraged to spend 20% of their time working on 'anything that interests them' and the company offers free, nutritional food to all employees throughout the day.
In Google, we saw a real alternative to the great monolithic corporations of the past. Alongside their (admittedly rather clunky) moto: 'Don't be evil', Google espoused a philosophy of making money without being wicked, being serious without suits and enjoying ethical business.

Which direction?

I’m not sure exactly what One Direction’s fans were expecting but it wasn’t this.

For the last week or so, communiques from the group (or at least their ‘people’) started to wind their supporters into a frenzy of anticipation. A big announcement was promised. Actually make that a BIG announcement. But what could it be? After the JLS shocker, many feared the worst. The more optimistic followers predicted an album, maybe even a live one. (Incidentally, I know all this because, as regular podcast listeners will be aware, I am now a paid up member of the 1D fan club).

Well, in the end, it transpired the BIG news was some more concert dates. When one considers the boys are on a world tour right now, and most young fans have reached the limits of their disposable income – or that of their parents – more gigs was something of a damp squib.

Pussy galore

Owning a domestic animal is a trade-off. They bring you companionship, fun and a messy carpet - in return, you give them food. Lots of food. Indeed, it can feel as though the only reason they give you all the affection and comfort is because of the food (which of course is ridiculous).

I'm more of a dog man myself. They're reliably dopey, funny and dependent. But an ex-partner was obsessed with acquiring cats, so I've spent plenty of time with them too. As I recall, cats tend to tip the balance of the relationship in their favour. They don't do tricks, chase balls (they may pursue a piece of string once in a while) or see off intruders. That doesn't get you off the food hook, though. They're just as keen on their grub as their canine counterparts, they just do less in return. In fact, they're more keen on sleeping than anything else.

This slightly exploitative partnership is, of course, a gift to advertisers. We all know that manufacturers of sweets depend on 'pester power' to shift products, placing all manner of confections by the checkout to encourage children to badger their parents for Pokemon candy bars. Strong adults can resist this nonsense from kids, but almost never from pets (I know, the animals aren't in the supermarket - but their pleading eyes are ever-present in the minds of the owner). Consequently, pet food manufacturers are always keen to cook up new campaigns, the better to draw the hapless shopper to their brand. I think Pedigree currently sell Fido chews using a claim of improved doggy dentistry. Although, I can't help noticing that wolves have almost perfect gnashers and nobody buys them anything.

On cargo cults

If advertising is about anything, it's about influence and persuasion. So allow me to tell you a tale which perfectly illustrates the strange and mysterious ways in which the human psyche is influenced and persuaded.

This is the story of a man who doesn't exist, but who is worshipped with unwavering loyalty and belief. The man's name is John Frum.
Visit the island of Tanna (part of the Republic of Vanuatu in the South Pacific Ocean, northeast of Australia and southeast of Malaysia) on any 15th February and you'll enjoy the spectacle of hundreds of local villagers staging an extravagant celebration. Dressed in homemade uniforms resembling the kit of the US Army and with the letters 'USA' painted on their bodies, they hoist a 'stars and stripes' flag up a pole before marching over the foot of a volcano with bamboo 'guns' on their shoulders. This is no military pageant, however - it's a religious ritual. It is John Frum day.

What am I bid?

For the jobbing freelance there can only be one priority. Ahead of the bookkeeping, email answering, blog updating and business card ordering - there's nothing more important than bringing in the work. And, when the industry is buoyant, it's not too difficult. Call on a few contacts, send a few mailers, take a few meetings and, with a following wind, the bookings arrive.

But, as you may have noticed, these are not ordinary times. Agencies have been merging, slimming and folding with alarming regularity since the crash of 2008 - and, five years on, the malaise is a long way from cure. Inevitably, with creative businesses under pressure, costs are cut and that is never good news for freelances.

If you're lucky, you'll have one or two regular gigs to give you a 'baseline' income from which to build, but the building has rarely been tougher and even those frequent fixtures may look wobbly. Which is when the idea of an online marketplace for freelances starts to look appealing. 

Not 4U?

Channel 4 is in trouble with Ofcom. Not for a programme or an advertisement, but the juxtaposition of the two. The broadcasting regulator says the station broke their code on 26th December 2012 when they ran a commercial which gave the impression it was making fun of a strong rape scene featured in the movie 'The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo', in which the character Lisbeth Salander is violently assaulted.
The problematic spot didn't actually appear in the full break but in Phones 4U's sponsorship spot which shows a woman seemingly having sex and saying to camera "I'm faking it, can I upgrade?"

As I've mentioned before, the number of complaints which trigger investigation and censure from Ofcom or the ASA is always astonishingly low. Even the notorious Jonathan Ross / Russell Brand phone calls only drew a handful following their broadcast. It was only when the daily Mail ran a piece condemning the presenters that hundreds more objections arrived. In this case, the Phones 4U clip brought a mere 17 complaints bemoaning its inappropriateness. Inevitably, Channel 4 has apologised (such contrition is often the result of damage limitation meetings with lawyers, rather than anything more heartfelt, of course).

When celebs sell stuff (when they shouldn't)

The old adage asserts, 'Word of mouth is the best advertising'. And there's a lot of truth in that. When a satisfied customer recommends a product or service to a potential customer, a form of potent and cost-free advertising has taken place and it's unarguably effective. You'll also hear the wise sages claim 'You can't buy publicity like that.' But can you? What if the individual doing the recommending is a) famous and b) on the company's payroll?

Of course celebrity endorsements are nothing new. From Clark Gable to Cheryl Cole, the well-known have always been tempted by the commercial buck and happily rented out their likeness and reputation to advertisers. However, when Cheryl pops up, hair swishing luxuriantly, on a the telly or a magazine page, she's not delivering a word of mouth recommendation, she's starring in an obvious advertisement. We know she's been paid for her kind words and lovely face, so the experience may be cheesy but it's never deceptive.

Perfect Storm

Storm Thorgerson, who has died aged 69, was responsible for the design of so many classic album sleeves, it's almost unfair. His company was 'Hipgnosis' and rather than dominate the age of iconic record artwork (the late 1960s to the late 1970s), his team invented it.

He founded his studio with Aubrey (Po) Powell, in 1970 having come to a realisation so obvious it had been largely overlooked: that 12 inches of double sided cardboard make a perfect canvas.

Sure, records had sleeves in the decades before Hipgnosis. And those sleeves had pictures and words on them. The psych-typography of the mid-60s had dipped a toe in the waters of intriguing imagery, but those sleeves always carried the artists' handle and were actually cruder than we imagine. Before Storm and his collaborators, the primary purpose of an album's outer envelope was to tell the punter what they were buying. This was never a priority for Thorgerson - indeed, much of his best work actually defies and excludes the title of the LP and name of the band. Quite a handy device if you wish to bestow an aloof kudos on your audience.

The naked truth

Brace yourself, I have some shocking news. An advertiser has used sexually provocative imagery to sell their goods. I know, it seems incredible, but I think you deserve the facts. Don't panic though. Fortunately the moral might of the Advertising Standards Authority has intervened to keep us safe.

The advertiser is the clothing brand American Apparel and the photographic work attacked by the ASA appears on their website. Calling the imagery ‘offensive’ and ‘overtly sexual’, the regulator pointed to one ad, carrying the headline ‘Bodysuits and Thigh-Highs’, which showed six pictures of a female model in a black lycra bodysuit and thigh high socks, photographed on a bed, kneeling and occasionally with her legs apart. A second ad presented a different woman, naked but for a large sweater.

Of course there's nothing unusual about the ASA getting into a lather over provocative images in advertising. Indeed, they would argue that is their role. But this particular instance does raise some interesting questions.

Scoop Dodge

When Calvin Cordozar Broadus - or Snoop Dogg / Doggy Dogg / Lion - was refused entry to the UK after a fracas at Heathrow in 2006, The Sun had a field day. Calling him 'sick' and worse, the red-top worked itself into a preposterous and arguably racist lather, delighting in the decision to send him back to the US and bar him from further visits.

In the grand tradition of tabloid hypocrisy, the paper is now delighted to interview him and feature his exploits on their showbiz pages after the ban was dismissed by a court in 2010.

But - morally duplicitous as this is - it pales in comparison with the attitude The Guardian took to Snoop in last week's Weekend magazine.

What Thatcher's death tells us about Twitter ...

As a youth in the 1980s, I spent rather too much of my time marching through the streets of various British cities chanting 'Maggie! Maggie! Maggie! Out! Out! Out!'. I was an officer for my local NUS and for all my passion, I suspect my whooping and hollering made little difference to the Prime Minister's reign. However, it was at least an outlet for my callow militancy. The only outlet, to be honest.

And so, yesterday, Margaret Hilda Thatcher (nee Roberts) really did take her leave of us, dying from a stroke in the Ritz Hotel.

Perhaps inevitably, all the wounds, divisions and bitterness from her time in charge rushed back to the surface. Not in me, particularly, but certainly in many whose hatred and animosity had laid dormant for two decades, until this key moment unleashed them once again. Only this time, there is a mouthpiece so much more sophisticated than a yell in the cold air. This time there is Twitter.

Corrections & clarifications

In rock and roll, as in life, there are tasks which many are too idle, proud or busy to perform. Fortunately, I am none of these things. Which is why I have taken responsibility for sifting through an expansive pile of popular lyrics in order to identify those hidden, but crucial anomalies, so often overlooked by the writer.

Call it a public service. Call it an unhealthily pedantic obsession. Put a hat on it and call it a thing, because here come the results.

Creativity. A dirty word for government?

As the coalition continues to press citizens to find jobs, while simultaneously conspiring to reduce the opportunities available, jobseekers face further indignity. In recent weeks I've heard many opinion formers and politicians bemoaning people's ambitions to work in the media or creative industries. 'They need to be realistic and lower their sights', one minister told us. Well, at least he acknowledged a creative career is a high calling.

In truth, Britain leads the world in creativity. We gave the planet The Beatles, David Hockney, Alan Bennett, Monty Python, Pink Floyd, Charles Dickens, Ian McKellen, the internet, John Peel, Sex Pistols, Harry Potter, Dr. Who, Spitting Image, Danny Baker, Peter Cook, Alan Parker, Boy George, William Boyd ... and on I could go. However, for some baffling reason, our lords and masters have a thinly disguised contempt for the creative arts.

Thanks to swingeing cuts, libraries are closing, theatres are facing a complete withdrawal of their backing and the Arts Council has suffered a cutback of almost 4% since 2010. Combine this with an overhaul of the national curriculum which treats childhood creativity as something akin to a corrupting force, and it isn't hard to see which way the wind is blowing.

Bob's rankle.

"There has always been crap pop music. I remember when we had all the crap boybands in the 90s - stuff like that has always been around. The lack of money in the music industry created a crisis. Record companies don't have the resources to take a gamble, so these pop stars are created by committee."

That's Brett Anderson of Suede. He was speaking to The Sun (I know) about the late nineties and the ludicrously named Britpop. Always a provocative bugger, Brett will be delighted to know his opinions have stirred up a hornet's nest, particularly as they appear to be swarming in the head of Robbie Williams.

Where the heart is ...

You may have noticed Marissa Mayer, the CEO of Yahoo!, kicking up some dust last month, when she announced a complete ban on working from home. This, she claimed, was to encourage collaborative working and collective thinking. However, there was a paranoid undercurrent as she noted the alarming number of Yahoo! employees leaving to start their own companies after periods of home working.

This is a recurring debate. Indeed, many sectors have never really embraced the concept of remote employment. After all, you'd look long and hard before you found an insurance or retail business which allowed the practice. But I think it was the creative nature of Yahoo! that caused the stir - because it's just the sort of outfit you'd expect to encourage flexible or informal working.

So does this spell the end of 'working from home' (WFH)? Because the signs aren't particularly encouraging.