However, I think what really needs to be assessed- not just by journalists, but by all of us in the communications industry- is what exactly the social media landscape means for our role and our image. Journalists no longer find the scoops, PRs no longer control the conversation, Marketing people no longer enjoy hegemony over public information. These are no longer problems to be considered: they are facts, known to public and media alike.

As a consequence, how do the communications industries present themselves and their function? If the newsmakers are, often, not seen as sleuths and explorers, then what are they?

Over the next decade or so, we will most likely see a shift in the role of the respected journalist from content generation to a mixture of content generation and a healthy dose of content auditing.  Instead of getting the scoops, they’ll be checking their validity. Instead of generating the content, they’ll be sifting through it, distilling it, re-presenting it. Instead of giving voice to the zeitgeist, they’ll be working out how that voice sounds.

The role of the media professional in the future is, therefore, practically bureaucratic, certainly organisational and analytic.

This will affect the PR and communications industry too. While historically the function of the PR has been to dream up the stories and then spin and feed them to journalists, who in turn feed them to the public, this hierarchy could soon be totally obsolete. However, the PRs do have one advantage over the journos: since our stories often come straight from the people making them, we can be first with the scoop.

Our function is therefore set to become, perhaps already has become, twofold. On the one hand we become infiltrators; experts in the social environment who know where to place stories to gain maximum traction in the constant conversation. On the other, we become supervisors to the analytic and summary process of new journalism, ensuring that the stories we create fit with those being collated and confirmed by opinion monitoring auditors in the media.

The public are becoming increasingly more aware of the huge role social media plays in newsgathering and broadcasting. Major international networks like CNN are among the most followed information providers on twitter, and the BBC’s follower profile has increased enormously (almost exponentially) over the past year.

There’s a danger here that they’ll come to associate the PR world with the old journalism- cast it as part of the defunct hierarchy. Agencies need to work hard to make sure that potential clients understand that, in a media landscape dominated by assessment and analysis, PRs are the ones with the know-how to act on and add to that analysis in the most targeted manner.

Of course, the real PR world would make a pretty poor comedy. Sure, it’s on one level a creative industry, and there are moments of brilliance (as well as the odd rambunctious, explosive event, one or two of which I’ll admit to orchestrating). However, there’s a good deal of daily grind- the PR consultant’s agenda is laden with stress, and often driven by trickier clients who expect the earth, want it right away and then demand precise figures to confirm its existence.

Needless to say, if I turned up to a lunch with one of my corporate clients clutching a Stolly Bolly, sporting a beehive and spouting a series of irritating catchphrases, I’d not long keep the account. Though I’m sure I’d look pretty marvellous.

Yet that’s hardly an excuse for selling a bunch of tired clichés of lavish party excess and toppling hi-heeled fools. Absolutely Fabulous successfully warped public, anecdotal opinion of PR because it latched on to an unavoidable fact- that networking and events form a significant part of the publicist’s working life- and used this as a way in to push an image of PR of one long, loud, particularly boring party. In reality, most events the PR has to attend aren’t any more fun than the morning planning meeting. As anyone in communications will tell you, work is work- in or outside the office.

This stuff is particularly damaging when it harms serious professionals. Lynne Franks was stitched up when her friends decided to brandish a caricature of her for laughs- a decision that said more about people in the TV industry than in PR. Franks’s name cannot now be mentioned without a reference to the show following shortly after. It’s a shame, given that Franks’s career is iconic.

A pioneering female businessperson, she built a business from her kitchen table, sold it for a cool £6million, and now runs the SEED network which is doing some pretty interesting stuff for women in the business world- their b.hive female business spaces are more or less unique.

It’s not a cultural trope that stopped with Ab Fab either: ‘The Thick of It’s Malcolm Tucker and the feckless PR director in BBC’s recent Olympic satire ‘Twenty Twelve’ are two direct descendants. With the communications industries currently under continual flux and re-assessment, PR is emerging as the most valid, serious way of tapping into public conversation. Before the industry’s reputation is shattered once again by the show’s return, individual agencies, professionals and the CIPR need to think carefully about the way they present what they do to the public.

They need to think about how best to sell exciting PR while disposing of the cliché that dogs them. Publicity is dynamic, but if it’s good it’s also highly professional: fully planned, intricately executed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend a lengthy meeting in a gloomy boardroom. Rest assured the consequences will not be hilarious.

I’m off to wade in the ever-welcoming Somerset mud. Yes, it’s work not pleasure, especially considering the Glastonbury Festival regularly descends into a replica of Passchendaele’s swampy goo.

I’ve always struggled to understand the risks that passionate music fans take when buying their tickets, knowing the chances are high that the heavens will deliver rain. Why? I guess partly it’s hope. If you want to see hell, you can get a great view from the Pyramid Stage.

Over the past two decades, the PR to sell the behemoth of festivals has changed utterly. Consumers drive the conversation and therefore the experience. Is it based on truth or collective determination? The conversation has certainly grown the market. Currently the festival conversation is not owned by the conventional media.

Although the BBC commits huge resources to feed the vibe back to the sensible majority who prefer to be armchair viewers, those pleased to watch the festival struggle to manoeuvre around the swamp from a safe distance. In truth, the media prefers to see a wet festival, craves images of semi-stoned, half naked music lovers body boarding on the slime and spew. The hardy festival goers make stoical merry inside the monsoon and boy do we laugh.

Brands can learn something from the way the seeming disaster of a rainy festival can never destroy the Glastonbury brand, however. You’d think that countless rain-drenched festivals would obliterate the Glastonbury brand trust. Absolutely not, however; Glastonbury is what it is and there is a collective will to overpower any negativity. Call it herd instinct if you will, but there is a definitive humility emanating from the festival.

Yes, it has a legacy and heritage which will never be surpassed. The conspiracy to smother the truth is a thing of wonder. The truth – whisper it quietly – is that Glasto is actually big, chaotic, crazy, commercial and unwieldy. It has mushroomed into a gigantic clusterfuck.

Moisture or no moisture, it’s impossible. Only the hardy mosh pit faithful get close to the stage vibe. The rest shuffle round wondering why the hell they spent a fortune on tickets, camping kit to put them through a physical wringer. But will they admit the truth? Do they complain, do they stamp and shout for the duty manager? Of course not.

Glasto is a super deity, a brand that occupies a place in the heart, not the head. If brands want that special relationship, they need to remember the investment the humble Michael Eavis oversees. Consistency in leadership and a complete experiential overload are but two elements. Brands need a 25 year grand plan and something to love, not a two year bang and blast. If you can keep it up for 25 years there’s hope that not even your equivalent of a monsoon over Somerset could sink your brand.

Are we really operating in such a venomous and cut-throat arena these days? Are the new generation of PRs set to completely and unquestioningly inherit the methodology of the Alistair Campbell school of PR – to seek and destroy by any backstabbing methods available? Will we all be thrust into an environment of fear?

This last weekend, we heard how Chris Huhne had been (potentially) undone by his wife. Last week I did a number of media noddys on the great Twitter privacy debate. The same week I delivered an open heart-to-heart on the future code of business in PR at #think11.

As we hurtle into a new communications age, whipped into a new reality by the digital cat o’ nine tails, must we all, in some fashion, cling on to the wreckage, hoping against hope that our professional intuition and emotional intelligence will keep our heads above water?

In the past I suggested that staring daily into a screen does not help create or build meaningful professional relationships in the physical environment. We need to develop more islands of hope where working trust exists. This is a plea for some measure of contemplation in an age of democratic experimentation; necessary when many around us are using industrial tools to smash through wall and the speed of the public agenda is breathtaking.

We must sidestep the vicious paranoia in the world at large, which threatens to destabilise our ability to trust and understand. Relationships we think we are building are all too often so flimsy and false that sooner or later they will be exploited by the ruthless.

Some might argue that Huhne’s ambition would have led him to suspect a tactical leak coming. Pippa Middleton’s trust in those who are suggesting creating a walkabout snap for the paps might very well lead her on to a path she’ll regret. The lesson for today? Think carefully and be even more careful what you wish for…

The series has been made in conjunction with the Open University and focusses not just on what happened, but why it happened. Other business people speaking include: Virgin boss Sir Richard Branson, entrepreneur and inventor Sir James Dyson, Interbrand chairman Rita Clifton, management trouble-shooter Sir Gerry Robinson, and CEO of global advertising group WPP Sir Martin Sorrell.

It starts on May 9th at 8pm on BBC2.

Back in the day, I thought that trading under my name was a great idea. Some have challenged the conceit, but it was the need to create a family business that was my biggest inspiration. I was proud of my father and recognised his sacrifices, which enabled me to have the freedom of thought and mind to become a publicist. My mother never quite understood what my daily grind involved. She wondered why, if I loved media so much, I didn’t apply for a safe job at the BBC. Hanging out with odd circus folk was a worry, especially the exciting itinerant crowd who sucked on gasoline and juggled chainsaws.

The trend for spawning agencies with odd and clever names will always be in vogue. I remained resolute, however; I even registered a trademark; and this week has underlined why I am proud of my family name.

The city of Lublin is pitching to be European Culture Capital. I’ve won a fantastic consultancy to help them with their Social Comms platform. I am loudly called a creative consultant. On the way to the first meeting I managed to hook up with my family in Warsaw. I took along my oldest boy, Janek, to hear and document my father’s history. My cousin Marek has been working at the Warsaw Uprising museum and, now retired, is collating the Borkowski narrative.

Perhaps, when there is more time, I will go into the testimony in more detail in a another blog. In short, a set of tiny heroic actions, along with an absolute determination to survive has resulted in the Borkowski name being kept alive. Because of some cosmic chance and a chain of coincidences, I am breathing clean air in freedom.

The culture I try to create matches the sense of greater existence that this engenders. When I take on a gig, it’s not to run through the gears – it’s to work on a campaign and deliver something out of the ordinary. OK, I may not get it right on every occasion but, when I do, it matters.

Part of my visit took in the Grodzka Project – it’s not so much a museum as a living archive that has rebuilt the Lublin Ghetto virtually. It is astonishing feat of creative will and genius. I defy anyone, Gentile or Jew, not to be profoundly moved by the experience. Two extraordinary men have, with the power of love, reconstructed the memory of half million Lublin Jews exterminated by the Nazis.

If this unknown quarter of Eastern Europe doesn’t win the bid to become the European Capital of Culture, it will be a crime. The Grodzka Project is proof that, even with meagre resources, something of global importance can be brought into existence. This, alone, deserves to be celebrated. But there is so much more here that is worthy too.

200 souls packed into a lecture hall last night to hear my talk on the new world of PR. Thanks to my father, and the dogged belief that my name should stand for a mode of work, I have been able to stay connected to the changes. This informs and inspires my thinking. The gospel of BORKOWSKI will be an unfinished book, always edited and added to because, without curiosity and the belief in change and development, the survival spirit of the Borkowski family could not have flourished.

“‘I’ve been called many things,; McLaren wrote as advance publicity for his one man show, ‘a charlatan, a con man, or the culprit responsible for turning popular culture into nothing more than a cheap marketing gimmick. This is my chance to prove these accusations are true.’

“The man behind the Sex Pistols and Duck Rock is nominated by public relations expert Mark Borkowski, author of The Fame Formula, and a man who knew him well. What intrigues Borkowski is not just the success, but the myths that have evolved around this highly manipulative man. Matthew Parris is more sceptical, as is Chris Salewicz. As a journalist for NME between 1974-1981, Salewicz watched McLaren rewrite the rules of management. He also introduced the Sex Pistols to the man from EMI who then signed them up. An intriguing programme about fame, the media, and why the truth should not be confused with an easily believable myth.”

The show’s on at 4.30pm this afternoon and will be available on the iPlayer thereafter.

He was slick and sharp – an American who had made his home in Chile and so perfectly placed to move in and interview the men, even via speaking tube whilst they were in the mine – and made an interesting point about the rescue of the miners being a global uniting point, an anti-9/11 that made everyone happy.

But at no point did I get a sense that there would be any money for the Chilean miners coming from his book. His implicit position on this was a piece of classic journalese reason – they’ll be pleased that he captured the right story, he suggested. The suggestion being that this is all that’s necessary.

This has always been the sticking point for a good PR; balancing the perception of what is good for the client and good for the media. I suspect that this book will suck more money away from the miners, will remove them further from the ownership of the narrative they have collectively created, and put it into the pocket of the opportunistic writer and publisher instead. I may be wrong, but I don’t think so.

For more on the ways in which I think that the miners will be exploited, look at today’s Media Guardian, in which I have an article on the matter, by clicking here

Talking of not owning the story, what is going on with Wayne Rooney? Anyone who crosses Alex Ferguson tends to end badly – surely that lesson has been learned quite conclusively over the years – so it is worrying that the numerous people with a finger in Rooney’s PR pie have let the story of his dissatisfaction with Manchester United bash its way across the back pages of the nation’s papers like a cudgel. Sponsors, agents, merchandisers, friends, foes and family all have access, all have a view and are all briefing the tabloids, who are plundering the soap opera.

It has never been a good idea, PR-wise, to let stories run riot in such a manner. If Rooney wants out, he and his people need to be subtle and careful. If they aren’t, he’ll surely rue it.

The BBC has always been worried about the talent becoming bigger than the brand and situations like this, where the star uses his leverage in the press to air a grievance – well, it’s usually accompanied with the sound of the ironmonger making coffin nails.

Think of the Blue Peter folk who became too big for the show or the newsreaders who were too big for their low cut frocks. Every personality – even one as huge as Moyles – who thinks he is bigger than his station or broadcaster is playing a dangerous game. Moyles already has a big profile on Twitter – he didn’t need to do this live on air, and I’m betting he woke up the next day regretting it.

What is it with Radio 1 morning show presenters, anyway? Is there a persistent virus breeding in the air-conditioning that infects and attacks common sense? Chris Evans became a monster; Zoe Ball went equally native. A DJ like Moyles who forgets that his microphone is a megaphone going out to the nation is in trouble because, whatever his problems, he is in danger of losing allies at the BBC by munching on the hand that feeds him. It’s a big job and he ought to know there is always going to be someone beating down the door to do it instead of him. He may have enjoyed kicking out but he will almost certainly come to regret his self-serving and – in a time of economic disquiet – ill-considered tirade.

This feeling was exacerbated by Benedict’s pontificate walking its way into problems of its own making. Who can forget Fr Raniero Cantalamessa making a less than clever comparison between “attacks” on the church, prompted by the sex-abuse crisis, and the sufferings of the Jewish people in the Holocaust. It surely wouldn’t be long before the other wheels fell off the wagon.

After all, how could this dogmatic frontman deal with the list of issues that had large numbers of people speaking out against the church; issues such as Catholic opposition to the distribution of condoms, so increasing large families in poor countries and the spread of Aids? Or the promotion of segregated education; denying abortion to even the most vulnerable women; opposing Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender rights, including universal decriminalisation of homosexuality; failing to address the many cases of abuse of children within its own organization?

This was a long list that could sink any ship and Benedict has offended Muslims, Jews, gays and clerical sex-abuse victims in the course of his pontificate. It would take quite a spin-doctor to sort all this out. In short, Pope Benedict was a PR’s nightmare, with the odds firmly stacked against him. It didn’t help that the voices opposing him were experts on giving great sound bite. War horses like Peter Tatchell told the BBC News Channel: “We profoundly disagree with the Pope’s opposition to women’s rights, gay equality and the use of condoms to prevent the spread of HIV.”

The tour did not start well. The Vatican PR minders flooded the market with excruciatingly embarrassing leaflets produced by the papal visit team, which compared the Mass to a “gig”, the Pope to a “headline act” and liturgists to “performers”. Then Cardinal Walter Kasper prompted controversy on the eve of the visit by comparing Britain to a third world country and refusing to apologise for his comments.

Out of nowhere, however, a sombre suit took control; someone inside the organisation had the sound sense to focus on the Pope’s little known strengths. Letting the real Benedict be seen over the course of this visit has changed his image forever. Suddenly we were being sold an old-fashioned but relevant leader. Serenaded by SuBo, he warned against the culture of celebrity. “Become Saints Not Celebs”; “We live in a celebrity culture and young people are often encouraged to model themselves on figures from the world of sport or entertainment.”; “My question for you is this: What are the qualities you see in others that you would most like to have yourselves? What person would you most like to be?”

Whoever promoted this idea deserves beatification. These images played straight into the tabloid heartland. We were now contemplating the image of a spiritual man, not aloof, austere or out of touch. Impromptu walkabouts and classic photo call opportunities yielded traction – much like those that were forged from Pope John Paul II’s 1982 visit. From this point on it became a love in, a religious Glastonbury. The pomp and ritual of the papal tour was backed up by wall-to-wall media and TV coverage and frenzied and adoring crowds. This was old-fashioned hype magnified.

The demonstrators were neutered by a surprisingly assured frontal assault. Protesters were drowned out by the media’s papal positivity. Part of the problem was that, after months of increasingly shrill rhetoric from the anti-Pope movement, during the actual visit they delivered nothing more than a medium-sized demo that never raised itself beyond the predictable and ordinary. There were no surprises, just placard waving negativity – the media agenda had moved far beyond this.

Church commentators have a tendency to suggest that the origins of past PR gaffes by Pope Benedict are linked to the quality of his advisers and the news management of the pontiff. Well, whoever was in charge of this tour pulled off one of the most remarkable PR coups of the last ten years. Benedict charmed his way through very turbulent waters. The pièce de résistance was to convince the sceptics, with his heartfelt words of sorrow during mass at Westminster Cathedral, that he sincerely wants to tackle the “unspeakable crimes” of paedophile priests, which were covered up for so long by the church. Game, set and match – for this tour at least.

I doubt this extravaganza will have changed his image forever, but it is a salutary lesson for PR folk. No matter how desperate the cause, there is always hope that you can turn events around. There are occasions we don’t need to reinvent or restructure, just capitalize on the opportunities at our disposal. “Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie / Which we ascribe to heaven.”