Yesterday’s failed Bayern Munich stunt was an ideal example of what happens when creative energy fails to connect with the reality of the media narrative. For those who didn’t hear, the German football team wrangled a piece of PR trickery which fuelled an horrific backlash.

An announcement on their website that “a spectacular name” was to sign for the club invited fans to watch the name’s unveiling on the team’s Facebook page.

Needless to say, an incredible amount of furore was generated and fans eagerly tuned in at the proposed time in their thousands. However, following a short video clip from FCB’s general manager Christian Nerlinger, fans were treated to a view of their own Facebook profile picture, followed by their own name on the back of a Bayern Munich number 8 shirt.

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Whilst flitting between a flurry of meetings lately, the issues of growing a company have been playing on my mind. Whether you’re selecting which new business pitch to opt for, attempting to prioritise a hectic diary or thinking about enlisting new staff, defining and sustaining a true corporate culture is as essential as it is difficult.

Arthur Schopenhauer, that eminently quotable German, once said ‘We forfeit two thirds of ourselves in order to be like other people.’  In the past, I’ve occasionally prioritised the need to get the job over the passion for it. I’ve let myself and what I do be defined by what a client wants, rather than what my heart (and my more hard-bitten instincts) tell me I should be doing.

If you’re pitching without passion, it’s more likely than not a question of too many mouths to feed: unchecked growth leads to serious issues. In growing your business with limitless tenacity, the likelihood is that you’ll fall victim to the 33 and 1/3^rd factor: some unalterable law of the universe dictates that, left unfiltered, your employees will appear in three types, in equal proportion.

The first 3^rd are the stars, the challengers, those who grow the business with their unstoppable thinking and enthusiasm. The second are the support staff, the dependables and hard workers without whom the company could not continue day to day. Both of these are necessary components in the agency vehicle, whether it’s a slick ad world Beemer or a dependable in-house people carrier. Managing the ratio between them is the secret of a great corporate culture.

The last 3^rd are the hangers on, drifting through the day like fugitives clinging onto the sides of a train, only without the diligence or sense of opportunity. The overlarge organisation, or the agency which cannot fully define itself and stick to that definition, attracts an inordinate number of these energy sappers. Without a firm culture to define them against, it gets harder to keep them away.

If you’re questing after true efficiency, you won’t find it by increasing your workforce. Take the time to define the way you work now and establish the way you want it to change. Grow slowly and strategically, and you’ll be left with far fewer hangers on, and far less air resistance as you travel.

Each year I am amazed by Blue Monday’s formidable penetration of the public conversation. Of course, it is total PR bollocks- Everyone who knows that all bathroom products are made of the same elixir, M&S food is food like any other regardless of the dulcet tones of Matthew Mcfadden and Jim Morrison isn’t really dead knows that.  Yet at the same time, year on year, it trends on twitter (0.06% at its peak yesterday) and is splashed all over online and traditional outlets.

Even Blue Monday’s creator, pseudoscience wizard Cliff Arnall (who concocted the theory on behalf of Sky Travel), admits that it’s rubbish, but he also raises a good point. Blue Monday succeeds in getting British people to talk about their feelings far more successfully than any number of peer-reviewed journals. This, combined with the fact that practically every charity and a fair number of consumer PRs recycle the concept every year for their own campaigns, mean Blue Monday is here to stay, bullshit or no.

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In an inquiry Room at the Royal Courts of justice, a tortuous inquisition plays out the last moves of a decades long confrontation. Sagacious commentators suggest we’re watching the inexorable death throes of a once proud profession. Journalism puts up a brave fight, but the lustreless altercations at the feet of Lord Leveson project an inevitable futility.

As editors faced the muzak, a genuine tabloid legend’s coffin was making its way past a sea of solemn faces inside a dimly lit church in SW15. Mournful voices drowned out by the perpetual clang of a tolling bell heard moving tributes celebrating the life of ‘Smoking’ Sue Carroll.

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Here at Borkowski towers, we’ve just finished wrangling a media call to out a wonderful story.

Once upon a time, Jeremy Paxton, owner of our client the Lower Mill Estate, received an earnest letter from the son of a prospective buyer. The letter, sent by six year old Leo Park, enquired politely as to whether the new house being designed for he and his mother, Jade, would have a chimney large enough to accommodate the weighty personage of a certain Santa Claus come holiday season. We persuaded Lower Mill that, as a self build service, it was their duty to fulfil his request.

What’s more, all parties involved agreed to appear before the media to bring this heart-warming Christmas tale to the eyes of the world. We helped Lower Mill and the media to capture the moment at which the chimney was taken for a test run, with a cheery Santa lowered into the chimney via a crane.  Lower Mill were prepared to go that extra mile to sell the house and raise a few smiles. As the old saying goes, you get the publicity you deserve.

From the Daily Mail and the Telegraph to Emirates 247, from CBC America to the Times of India via Radio 2, The One Show and plenty more along the way, the happening captured the imagination of reporters and audiences alike.

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“The media wants overnight successes (so they have someone to tear down). Ignore them.”

So writes .com marketing legend Seth Godin in his piece “The Secret of the Web”. He’s totally correct. As anyone who has ever striven to realise an original idea knows, not only the media but those with the power in business and in society are professional cynics working to a very small time scale. If you want to create something real, you’ll have to spend a lot of time ignoring those who take your lack of results as proof of failure almost as soon as you’ve started.

It’s a thought that conmingled in my head over the weekend with the triumph of the pathetically named but surprisingly talented ‘Little Mix’ in this year’s X Factor. The audience got behind this somewhat rag-tag bunch because they got about as close to representing truth and single-minded determination as it’s possible to on the X Factor.

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The whole Bell Pottinger lobbying scandal was fascinating to watch as it slowly consumed The Independent throughout the week. Clearly, there are certain pernicious forces at work here. It’s difficult not to feel a little uneasy when the British democracy is in such a state that individuals like ‘cantankerous’ Vince Cable require years of expert strategic experience and a big pile of cash to reach.

Of course, it isn’t surprising- everybody knows on some level that this sort of business goes on. The striking thing is how rarely it’s reported on. I’ve written in the past on the great media operator John Rendon, and the upshot of my thoughts was that many of those who do most to change public and political opinion succeed by remaining as invisible as possible.

Rendon managed to monitor and control the fallout from every major US military operation of the past 20 years, and he did so by making sure he personally made as little noise as possible. When he supplied the Kuwati welcome crowd with stars and stripes following its liberation in the first Gulf War, no media commentators celebrated Rendon’s role. Instead, millions saw an inexpressibly powerful image, seemingly created from nowhere.

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The unmatchable Hollywood publicist, agent and stuntmaker Jay Bernstein has shown us all once again how a true publicity superstar does things with a fitting final stunt. The sadly deceased genius has defied having his inimitable profile smothered even by death himself, and has managed to release his book onto an unsuspecting public from beyond the grave. Anyone who cares at all about the art of truly inspirational PR, from understanding clients to launching groundbreaking stunts, should buy it. Right now.

Being a PR, I just can’t resist a quick plug: those looking to understand Bernstein’s remarkable talents could also do worse than investing in a copy of my book The Fame Formula. In it, I dissect, analyse and celebrate the incredible gift of Bernstein and his ilk for capturing the public, as well as understanding so well the stars they catapulted to fame with apparent ease. Their arts aren’t lost, but they are essential background reading for anyone seeking to make waves in the comparatively anodyne world of modern communications. In these uncertain days in the shadow of a certain Lord L, the lessons of the past have never been more pressing.

Bernstein was one of the absolute greats. Unmistakably, he was a true showman of the kind I’ve always admired. His stunts, which ranged from artificially stoking Tom Jones’s sex bomb reputation with hired pantie-throwers to holding his own-televised- wedding underwater, are now the stuff of legend. Like Jim Moran and other ancient heroes of mine, he was a fabulous ringmaster of publicity and pizazz.

However, for all the hype about him being the ‘inventor of the modern publicity stunt’, his greatest talent was far more subtle. While researching the Fame Formula, he was one of the figures I had the pleasure of interviewing during a stint across the pond. A gent and an enthusiast, he gave up his valuable time without complaint. Upon entering his house- formerly owned by Rita Hayward and site of the first Jacuzzi in Hollywood- my eyes were assailed by a remarkable collection of memorabilia. The place was filled with debris from his remarkable time in the industry.

As a hopeless collector myself I was excited by the sheer volume of it (and I particularly wonder what happened to his incredible collection of stuffed animals), but I was also impressed and touched: these deeply personal items were evidence of the highly developed bonds Bernstein had with his clients. His memories of each and every client were fond, full and nuanced. One particularly memorable moment involved him musing as to what John Wayne might have said if he’d been offered the script for Brokeback Mountain, just released at the time.

He took clients all the way, and each of the crazy stories he launched came from a place of deep thinking, considered strategy and mutual trust.

It strikes me that, while Jay’s stunts place him in the vein of ‘publicist’s publicist’, his relationships with clients offer up lessons to those in any line of work. Brand communications in any field can only work from a basis of deep mutual respect between those working within the brand and those pushing it out. Madness, controversy and conversation spring from narratives mutually developed and sculpted over years- Bernstein knew this, but I fear it’s something we’re starting to forget.

Ah the double-edged sword of technology: yesterday I managed to spark a very interesting debate during a Skype interview for Radio 5’s ‘Double Take’ regarding the Leveson inquiry. However, just as things were getting interesting- and before I could voice some of my key points- the connection was cut and I was left stranded in my home office.

The debate proceeded, the media machine turned, and I was powerless to change or influence it, or to explain my true point in any audible way. See any analogues?

The problem that the hacking scandal and the Leveson inquiry have thrown up is that, for most people, the media acts in just this way but writ large. It tantalises the average person as it touches on their daily lives, yet it is ultimately a mysterious and unalterable process to them.  When Jane Garvey asked me to clarify what it was I do this was brought home to me- would she ask the same of a solicitor or accountant?

The squabbles between the media and the famous are elevated to epic battles in the eyes of the public, who witness them through a filter. The reality is that this is a procedural question as complex and unromantic as its equivalent in any business. With tabloid journalism now largely driven by showbiz, and the public’s appetite for stories as ravenous and insatiable as ever, certain questions need to be asked and decisions made. However, they need to be made in a measured and demystified manner.

It would be better both for the media and for those in the public eye (who most often suffer the same banal problems as the rest of us) if the voodoo was stripped away.

Reportage of the various heartfelt testimonies from the Leveson Inquiry this week have left me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, not even the hard arsed heart of a wizened old PR man could fail to be moved by the tales told by those ordinary humans swept into the press maelstrom:  the Mccanns, or particularly the Dowlers. These people are living testament to the sometimes frightening power of the story over the truth. It’s a power I’ve occasionally used to great advantage in the course of my work, but wielded without responsibility it can provoke violent disruption in the lives of publicity civilians.

More to the point, such people haven’t the funds or the knowledge to build suitable defences. They most certainly are not fair game.

However, I’ve less sympathy for Hugh Grant, Sienna Miller and the rest of them. While I wouldn’t go so far as Piers Morgan (who earlier in the week tweeted with typical flair “I do hope Nelson Mandela was watching Hugh Grant today, so he now understands what real persecution is all about”), as always in these situations I am inclined to remember the words of Clark Gable. If you’re going to sign a contract with fame, you’d better make sure you read the fine print.

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