The Bieber guide to pitching.

The approach is this:

You simply do whatever you need to, present the kind of work you suspect they will like and then get the client round to an idea you like once they are through the door and you are fully appointed.

So why Justin Bieber?

Think of it like dating.

If you want to woo a girl (for the sake of this blog) and she likes Justin Bieber you say you love JB too – how amazing! and you buy two tickets for his next show because, you know, you are sooo all about the Biebs.

You go to the concert, put up with the music and the screaming girls, but woo her with the whole ‘we have so much in common’ pitch, and as she gazes in to your eyes longingly, you kiss her to the sound of ‘As long as you love me’ in the background and then, theoretically, you live happily ever after.


Until the next time she suggests Justin is in town and she has got some tickets.

Aaahh crap.

Greeeeaaaat. Can’t wait.

You can’t now say you actually can’t stand him, she would consider you a complete fraud, so you go and keep going and buying the albums and listening to him on long car journeys and then one day it all gets unbearable and you get very drunk and admit, in a slurred yet frenzied mental breakdown, that you always HATED him and if you have to go to another concert of his or listen to one more bar of his you will literally cut off your own ears and stuff the remaining ear-hole with parts of disused flip flops!

In floods of tears she can’t believe she has been so stupid as to fall for this sham of a relationship and she storms out leaving you heartbroken.

That’s one way to pitch.

So it might have just been better in the first place if you’d just explained that actually Ed Sheeran is more your cup of tea and risked not winning her over.

Or maybe she actually had never heard Ed Sheeran and actually quite likes him now that you made her a playlist.

So, fellow pitch losers, when you receive that ‘you came a close second’ call or email, maybe it’s ok.

Maybe you just dodged a bullet.

Sooner or later you would have cut your own ears off and had no flip flops.

Real success, both creatively and financially, comes when both parties like Ed Sheeran or led Zep, or Beyonce or whoever.

If you think what you are presenting is right – whatever the outcome, then losing a pitch is actually winning if you look at it the right way.

And when you actually win that pitch, well, it’s all the more sweeter.

Plus, as the Biebster would say, there’s one less lonely girl.





Being funny without telling a joke.

I once did a freelance stint in a German office of JWT and the CEO there was quite the cliche ‘American’ ad-man, not a German.
An ex-creative director himself, he had a good sense of the process and was no fool.

But we differed on some points, one of which was that he thought the whole ‘don’t tell me you’re funny make me laugh’ thing was in his words ‘horseshit’.

Just tell me you are funny and do it several times, loudly.

It’s an approach that can work if you have enough budget and the audacity.

Remind you of anyone?

If you look at the orange-groper-elect himself, he has had a platform where he can tell everyone he is brilliant, day in day out without any real evidence to support him.

People believed him and his ‘winner’ positioning, even when, despite his obvious personal wealth, the evidence of his many failures is everywhere. Atlantic City Casinos, Trump University. Trump Mortgages et al.

His repeated claim to be awesome and the answer to America’s prayers is largely based on his claim to be the awesome and the answer to America’s prayers.

Maybe we have all been wrong about the whole funny comedian thing.

It can be done, if nobody stops you from claiming it. And that’s the one thing nobody realises about political advertising, you can say whatever bollocks you like and there is no organisation who can stop you or pull you up on it.

But in Pharmaland (or indeed consumer advertising if its something like alcohol) we can’t make claims to be funny or amazing if we ain’t.

All we can do is be funny or amazing.

How many times have you had a client ask you to ‘imply’ superiority?

So how does a brand claim something without claiming it?

The best way to find out is to study how some brands have managed it.

One of my favourite campaigns of all time was the UK campaign for Stella Artois which ran from 1982 to 2007 created by CDP and imported to the then Lowe Howard Spink by Frank Lowe when he left to set up his own agency.

‘Reassuringly expensive’ reinforced what we all secretly think. That the more expensive something is, the better the quality.

But did it actually say it was superior quality?

Not so much.

I use this example knowing full well that this type of advertising is now almost extinct.

But what we have in its place are the type of ideas that use the same device, saying things without saying them. A personal favourite is The gun shop by Grey New York for States United to prevent gun violence that purports to be selling perfectly innocent second hand guns until you realise all the guns on sale have been used to kill someone either in a mass killing or in a tragic accident, like the five year old that shot his nine month baby sister.

Needless to say people left the shop without buying a gun.

Because the concept lets you draw your own conclusions.

And that is the secret to a really powerful connection with your consumer.

That’s what changes behaviour.

I’ve always believed that anyone can tell you they’re funny but the ones we remember are the people who actually make us laugh.

It’s still the best policy if you’re not allowed to make claims you can’t support.

Unless of course you’re running for President, obviously.






Eggs in the airing cupboard

In consumer adland we often get the chance to experience the products we peddle.

If we’re lucky enough to work on a car account we get to do a driving day for a new model, if the latest beer is being launched we can down a few pints and really get a feel for the…ahem…taste. The consumer world is full of easily accessible products from Tampons to Tanning products, from condoms to Coca Cola for us to sample and improve our understanding of the ‘user experience’.

But in Pharmaland the very thing we often have to promote is so far removed from our daily lives as to make it almost impossible to truly know the wretchedness of the people whose lives we attempt to affect.

We have to put ourselves in the place of a diabetic, we must project ourselves in the psyche of an Oncologist or Endocrynologist without ever truly experiencing their position or decision making process.

There are no tasting sessions in this game.

On that rare occasion the two streams cross, the career path of a creative and a debilitating disease, it can either be deeply inspiring or like some giant emotional mangle. Sometimes both.

This recently happened to me.

My mother, a sprightly eighty three this year, has for some years now been suffering from Alzheimer’s.

And last month we pitched for an Alzheimer’s drug.

I thought this would be a breeze at the outset, after all we had lived with her forgetfulness, her muddles, her loss of vocabulary and her familiar coping mechanisms for some time now. It had almost become routine, sometimes even funny.

Despite the sad awfulness of this cruel disease, and as in poor taste as it might seem, there can be some humorous moments. The bleakness of the future can be forgotten in the bitter sweet surreality of discovering eggs in the airing cupboard.

Like many families, you watch one of the most important figures in your family go from a sparkling, glamorous, larger than life character to a diminished old lady who sometimes doesn’t make sense any more and sits in tha backseat on car journeys pointing out trees.

However I was unprepared for the impact of that thing we so easily call an ‘insight’.

One of our creative teams hit upon this idea that stopped me in my tracks and appealed to me as a creative for its simplicity and insight but also as a family member of a sufferer. Everyone involved agreed it was a great idea and we duly put it in to the pitch deck.

A couple of other good ideas joined it, tackling other aspects of the disease or carer perspective but we mostly agreed that the winning idea was that first idea.

At this point I was the Creative Director and oddly dispassionate. Get the copy right, get the type looking nice. Select the right shots, create the best images.

And then came the pitch rehearsals.

At our agency we place great value in these, get it well rehearsed and with a simple message and well…… let’s not give too much away.

Anyway, as I started to describe the thinking behind the concept I became rather overwhelmed.

For the first time and in what seemed a ludicrously random moment I began to sob.

Like most adult men, with years of conditioning that big boys don’t cry, it was mostly a case of going silent. Trying to control the wobble in my throat.

(I’d like to be able to say that I am mostly hard as nails, but frankly I cry at quite a lot these days. Mostly happy things, pride in my kids that sort of thing, quite the wimp.)

I wiped my cheek with a forearm and suddenly got a grip.

No need to apologise.

Well, that’s that done with.

Yet at the pitch, my big worry was that I would be overcome with emotion once more.

Cut to the big day.

There were fifteen potential clients looking on, waiting for some pearls of wisdom to sprout from my mouth about the ideas projected on the screen. Then there was this tightening in the throat, a moment slightly longer than a pause, slightly shorter than an intermission.

I could sense Phil ready to jump up and take over, apologising for me as he swept me to my chair like a feeble old fool, a towel over my head as he mouthed a silent apology.

You don’t experience that kind of emotion when pitching for a consumer brand.

You’ll be glad to learn I managed to pull it back and carry on.

The rest of the team exhaled.

The thing about Alzheimer’s is that the slow diminishing of what makes the patient them –  is almost imperceptible.

It starts with an oddly normal remark. “You never told me that” when you know you did.

“You never showed me that” when you just did. Those easily dismissable events, the kind of thing that can be put down to old age or a ‘bad day’ will progress to not being able to put the kettle on or remember grandchildren’s names.

And beyond.

I write this, recognising fully I am not alone in this acute experience. We all have close family and friends who have battled cancer, who have lived with chronic disease, some who have survived, some not so fortunate.

But if you are thinking of making that change from consumer to pharmaland I can say this.

I worked in consumer adland for over twenty five years, I loved every minute. But I have never had an experience like this pitch and it somehow makes me realise, if I hadn’t already, that what we get to do on this side of the advertising channel is about a real life, a rawness, that adland can only dream of.

The ad contrarian himself, the legendary Bob Hoffman, talks about how little people really care about brands. Yes, if Coke went bust tomorrow people would get over it by the next day and start drinking Pepsi. Whatever we like to think of pharma’s marketing and it’s traditionally conservative creative campaigns, what we do has authenticity.

A car can never compete, a supermarket can only dream of the raw impact of a pharma brand on a patient’s quality of life.

We are lucky to be a part of this sector.

And the pitch?

Inspite of, or possibly because of this unique experience, (and of course not forgetting the whole team’s contribution) we did in fact win.

And for my part, I have my Mum to thank for that.








What the hell happened to pitches?

Based on a (several) true story.

“So we’d like you to pitch for our global business!” said the Multi-National, Multi-Million-Pound Advertising Client in to her mobile phone.

“That’s great news we’d be delighted to,” replied the rather over excited MD, silently fist-punching the air. ‘Wait till I tell the guys that we made the pitch list,’ he thought; ‘bring it on!’

“Just one thing” the Multi-National, Multi-Million-Pound Advertising Client added “We will want a 97 day payment term”.


Crap, thought the MD, we are a fraction of the size of this client and they want us to bank roll them for a financial quarter?

“Yes, we’re a little strapped at the moment… so if you could tide us over till the next quarter…”

“Well, I suppose..”

“Excellent!… and by the way, the successful agency won’t be responsible for production; we’re de-coupling that from the process”.

“De-coupling?” asked the MD, his fist slightly clenching. Juan Pablo, our CD, is going to de-couple me.

“And the winning bid will be in the form of an e-auction.”

‘Did she just call it an auction?’ thought the MD. ‘Is what we do now? Are we just providing nuts and bolts now? But wait, calm down… this is a big sexy client and this will transform our business. Take deep breaths.

“Sure, we can do that” the MD said. “No problem”

But the client was just getting started.

“The pitch is in a week and a half, but we also want to see creative work by next Tuesday, so that we can review it before the pitch and see if it’s worth the bother of you coming all the way over. Just send us a PDF”

“Next Tuesday?… Well I guess we could pull something together quickly”

“But of course we’ll be co-creating with you- going forward”


“Yes, our CEO is super-creative… for an accountant”

“Even better… um… is there any chance of a quick chat beforehand… to ask a few questions?”

“Absolutely! we’re all about collaboration!”

“Great!” Okay, so it wasn’t all bad he thought, consoling himself.

“There will be a session with some agreed questions compiled from all the agencies which we will answer for the benefit of everyone.”

“So everyone can get the benefit of hearing the answer to our insightful questions?”


There was a short silence before the MD spoke again.

“Well… I suppose…”

“Incidentally,” interrupted the excited Multi-National, Multi-Million-Pound Advertising Client “all the ideas and work that you send us…we will own”

“So you want us to give you the ideas for free?”

“It is a pitch!”

The MD shook his head and managed to mumble the words “that’s not really how it works…”

“Well, if we like your ideas but not you then we want to be able to give them to someone we do like.”

“No.. that really isn’t….” said the MD limply, almost defeated.

“One more thing,” said the client as she looked up and saw her flight was boarding.

“The pitch will take the form of a two-day workshop”

“What the f…?”

“You’ve seen The Apprentice?”

“Of course”

“Well, we want you to send over the team that you will be proposing to work on the account to Guadalup for a day session where we will set them tasks and they will be tested on how they perform. And make sure there’s no one senior… we want the actual people who will be working on the business!”

“Really?… If I may be so bold…”

“Be bold, be bold! We are all about the honesty!”

“Why don’t you just hire your own people and have an in-house agency?”

“interesting idea… hmm” she replied, but really she was thinking ‘Because no decent ad people would ever come and work for us!! What kind of a dumb-ass question was that?’

Not missing a beat and deftly ignoring the question, she continued.

“…then we will choose the people we like best and they will work on the business… the ones who aren’t successful will be told to go home.”

‘Great account… great account… think of the money…’ the MD kept telling himself as the vein on his forehead began to pulse uncontrollably.

“I see… and how many other agencies, if I may ask, are involved?”

“Well, we have managed to whittle it down to seven”

The MD removed his fist from the newly punched hole in his office’s partition wall.

He turned and looked out of his large glass window across the city. He was imagining the headlines ‘Agency wins large famous multi-national account’ on the front page of Campaign. He kept trying to hold on to that image but it was getting fainter and fainter.

He let out an exhausted sigh which he managed to disguise in to a cough at the last minute.


“Yes, but the good news is six have pulled out… so it’s yours to lose!”

This perked the MD up somewhat. Maybe this was salvageable.

“You mean we’re the only agency pitching?”

“Yes! And if you get past the first round, we look forward to being a really cohesive team… because we believe in partnerships”

The MD let the first round comment go.

Whatever happened to pitching and winning or losing? Now it’s like the X Factor six seat challenge and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be invited to the judges houses any more.

“Actually,” said the MD, “having given it some thought, I am afraid we may have to decline your kind offer”

The client was shocked.

“Oh… well we’re obviously disappointed… maybe you don’t see yourself as worthy of our account”

“Yes, yes..that’s it. We’re not worthy”

“That’s fine” she said and hung up.

“Agencies…they are such primadonnas!” she said to no one in particular as she googled some more names.