A few days after I started work at the Mercury, I heard that two councillors from my old South Tyneside patch had made a few phone calls to politicians here in Leicester.
Iain Malcolm, deputy chairman of a lobbying firm, and David Potts called various public figures in the area and dropped a word in their ear about me, warning them about the digging I’d done on the shambolic Labour administration and the supine Tory opposition leader.
I treated it as a badge of honour.
Several local politicians down here were a little more curious, however, and over the past few weeks they’ve carried out their own background checks into the pair. They started, naturally, by browsing through my previously-published news stories.
“From what I’ve now discovered,” one high-flying politico chuckled to me this week, “they deserved everything you gave them!” The rest of the responses were similar.
That’s the problem when you’re an ousted Parliamentary candidate who helped a chemical attacker avoid prison.
Your views don’t have that much clout anymore…
City cabinet member Rory Palmer took part in the Obama campaign over in America back in 2008, so he’s got experience of working for one of the slickest campaigns of modern times. His Parliamentary campaign is currently ticking all the right boxes too.
He’s taking his election fight to the doorsteps of Bosworth in the run-up to the general election, “it’s where it’ll be won and lost,” he says. Many of his tweets are tagged with #LabourDoorstep too, as part of his online Twitter movement.
Winning an election on the doorstep is better than winning an election on the back of a horse, a stunt that once briefly ran through his mind.
“We’ve dubbed this election campaign The Battle of Bosworth, and I had visions of me riding on a horse through Bosworth in a suit of armour. Now that would have been the election stunt to end all election stunts.”
Quite. Luckily his Obama-campaign pedigree got the better of him.
He’s sticking to knocking on doors for the foreseeable future.
Flagship Leicester theatre The Curve went epically over budget, with costs rising from an initial estimate of £26.5m to more than £60m.
Times are tough and costs, of course, must be kept under control. But little did anyone realise how bad things had become there. As I sat with a contact over a cup of coffee this afternoon, it was the music choices rather than the innovative building which left the biggest impression.
A compilation album of ‘hits’ from the 80s and 90s was on loop throughout. Worse than that, my companion observed, they were cover versions. You can pick up these CDs for 99p in Morrisons.
Someone buy them an iTunes gift card…
March 3, 2010 | In: Admin
Over the past day or two I appear to have become the victim of some intense spamming, with lots of it slipping through my filters. I have a fair idea who is behind it, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.
In the meantime, ignore the odd comments trying to flog weight loss pills, hair loss remedies and anti-wrinkle cream.
Unless, of course, you’re a chubby baldy fella with a load of wrinkles…
More from the parallel universe of press offices.
On Monday I called the press team of a Midlands city council outside my patch. I asked for some information about various details of their council’s structure, as part of a wider report I’m putting together.
They took my name, telephone number and the name of the publication I work for. I then waited for a response, but heard nothing.
I called back yesterday afternoon.
“Oh I’m sorry we didn’t get back to you,” the head of press replied, “we Googled your name and it came up with the Conservative MP. We assumed you were a politician fishing for information so we just ignored it.”
That’ll be Penrith MP David MacLean (pictured) who, incidentally, is one of the most vocal opponents of the Freedom of Information Act in Britain. I use it every day. The irony…
Some blogging Mercury colleagues haven’t held back their frustrations about perceived obfuscation by press offices locally.
Today, I’m venting my spleen at PR folks further afield. On Friday it was leaked that BBC 6Music and the Asian Network could be axed after mounting pressure from the Conservatives.
Rather than pushing for confirmation – the Beeb had already clarified in the national press that they had no more to say – I wanted to know how many people worked for the Asian Network in the East Midlands, and in particular, Leicestershire.
Here’s the response:
David
I do not have the figures available.
Our statement today, attributed to a BBC spokesperson is: “Work on the BBC’s Strategy Review is ongoing and we are not commenting on today’s story.”
Do you see the disconnect? Do you see the answer to a question I haven’t asked? Do you see a press office on the defensive? And above all, do you see the quite stunning admission that the figures aren’t available?
A publicly-funded broadcasting service which has no idea how many people they employ. Sorry. Don’t believe it.
My response:
Hmmm. So we can say the BBC doesn’t know how many people work for the Asian Network in Leicester?
I was eventually fobbed-off with a tale about contracted workers skewing the figures.
The BBC still wonders why people pester them with Freedom of Information requests..
It’s not easy, changing council leader.
Far from being a case of sitting back and waiting to find out who Labour group chooses on the Ides of March, town hall officers are already hard at work – more than three weeks before the planned handover.
This week, they’re phoning councils that have recently had a leadership change in similar circumstances, and asking them if they can talk about how they managed the transition. “What was your blueprint,” corporate governance teams around Britain are being asked.
It’s hardly the Obama transition team, but every little helps.
We’re weeks away from a general election and releases are being fired across to the Mercury’s politics desk from across the county. Very, very few of them will ever see the light of day.
Why? It’s not because of bias, or laziness, or lack of space – it’s simply because they’re no use. Those crafted mailouts candidates proudly send out simply don’t cut the mustard in newsland.
There are a list of schoolboy errors as long as my arm. But my biggest gripe is this: Why are you sending out a press release in the first place?
Sounds like a stupid question, but why are you even sending out a press release? What’s wrong with picking up the phone to a reporter and giving them the essence of your story, and letting them weigh-up whether it’s newsworthy before wasting your time tapping out a quote and background information.
Perhaps you think a press release gives whatever you’re trying to say more gravitas. Journalists sit up and take notice if a message is headed with ++PRESS RELEASE++ right? Wrong.
By sending out press releases you’re in crowded company. Government departments send out press releases, sure, but so do the firms behind I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, Vileda floor mops, and Compare the Meerkat. A press release doesn’t bestow an otherworldly quality on what you have to say. It doesn’t make it any more likely to get into print.
If you really want to be effective, pick up the phone. It means you can have a chat with the reporter about how they plan to cover the election, and what stories and issues they’re looking into and how you can help.
And, if you’re really lucky, they might be able to tell you how to turn your press release – too often just an opinion on headed notepaper – into an actual news story.
Just saying…
With the leadership of Leicester City Council up for grabs, I’ve been doing my best to catch up with the runners and riders and I’ve had coffee with three of the contenders so far.
One meet-up went a bit pear-shaped. A day earlier we’d struck upon a time to meet up. I was bang on time, as ever, and ordered a latte with an extra shot of espresso and waited. And waited. And waited. I had an Americano to pass the time. Then a double espresso.
I left a stern voicemail on their phone: “You’re half an hour late. If you’re not here in five minutes I’m off.”
As I got up to leave the politico called me back. “I missed your call, what’s up? Do you want to meet up early or something. I’m due in half an hour.” I checked my notebook. I wasn’t bang on time, I was a whole hour early.
But, by the time they arrived it was no use. I was almost incapable due to the caffeine overload. I was shuffling about in my chair, gnawing on a giant cookie and scratching at the walls like an addict without his fix. My shorthand notes looked like earthquake tremor lines, my brow was damp, and I had a pounding headache.
Lesson learned for the future. Stick to decaff.
And so it came to pass.
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