As the last few weeks have passed, the staggering hypocrisy of Nick Clegg and the rest of the LibDem front bench has become truly apparent. Think back to the election campaign. Clegg was the man who repeatedly described the Tories and Labour as the “old parties”. A campaign poster criticised the Tories’ 20% “VAT bombshell” and voiced opposition to early cuts. Clegg said the Tories have no mandate to make cuts and “take our jobs away” in traditionally working class areas of the UK, like south Yorkshire.

Here’s an extract from an article Clegg wrote in the Independent in March:

The Conservative Party strategy is now clear: personal animus towards its opponents; shameless scaremongering in the financial markets; double standards in its own policies. David Cameron’s spring conference speech carried one message only: vote for me, because I really really hate the other guy. George Osborne’s economically illiterate warnings of meltdown in the money markets carried one message only: vote for us otherwise we’ll get the markets to tear the house down.

These are all now positions that, in a matter of just a few weeks, the LibDems have cheerfully disowned.

The LibDems’ argument seems to be that they can better influence policy as part of a formal coaliton agreement. This is utter crap. The party could just as easily influence policy if the Tories formed a minority government alone and the LibDems negotiated concessions on a bill-by-bill basis. The problem with this approach is that Clegg doesn’t get an overblown job title and a (shared) grace-and-favour country house to doss about in. The man is transparently in it for what he can get out of it.

Spare a thought, though, for local LibDem councillors and other activists who one assumes have maintained – unlike Clegg – at least a modicum of genuine political conviction. In many UK cities, where the Tories are hated, the LibDems are looking at the electoral wilderness. This point was made by former council leader Warren Bradley last week, as well it might be. He is completely screwed.

Politics has had a tough time recently. Nobody in the real world relates to or trusts politicians and apathy is rife. Nick Clegg cannot look anyone in the eye and say that the LibDems have not worsened the situation.

Today’s CashGordon fiasco has got me thinking about the point of a social media campaign and reinforces the point that simply getting your brand or campaign mentioned on Twitter is not an end in itself.

For Tories, the CashGordon strategy was based around creating something that would inflame people on Twitter, and then watching as the #CashGordon hashtag began to trend highly, regardless of the actual merits of the campaign or content of the CashGordon site (in this case, Charlie Whelan and the Unite union’s supposed hold over Gordon Brown and Labour policy). This much was admitted by Tory blogger Samuel Coates, who said on Twitter earlier:

Sitting back and marvelling at #CashGordon – we had an open hashtag policy, and have not changed that today, for a reason!

Other examples of self-satisfied gloating on Twitter earlier today came from the Tories’ in-house “online communities editor” Craig Elder, who praised Labour and lefty-types for drawing attention to the CashGordon site:

@psbook Such an own goal on your part, repeatedly drawing attention to our campaign. Please continue.

What was actually happening here was not any discussion of Whelan or Unite. Instead, there was lots of criticism for CashGordon. The Guardian had noticed that the site used a template that had been developed in the US as a campaign tool against US healthcare reform. The phrase also started to trend highly because people quickly realised that since the Twitter stream on the CashGordon website was unmoderated, you could write embarrassing things about the Tories (or indeed childish swearwords, or even adverts) and get them on to the CashGordon site in real time, provided they were tagged #CashGordon (see image, top left).

Then someone realised that the site could be exploited by script commands. Pretty soon, CashGordon was redirecting to a site saying “David Cameron is a c**t” in 48-point type, a Rick Astley video on YouTube and some OAP porn (link is safe for work). The site was subsequently taken down and remains offline. All in all, then, this was fairly obviously a total embarrassment, a mega PR fail and a terrible idea very poorly executed.

Yet, after a couple of hours, Elder and Coates reappeared on Twitter, still maintaining that all was well. After I sarcastically observed that CashGordon was “a social media triumph”, Elder replied to me like this:

@davidquinn Can’t disagree with that – it’s still trending in the UK…

How stupid do you have to be to think that just because a word or phrase trends on Twitter, that automatically makes it a good campaign? It obviously doesn’t, and to think otherwise is simply confusing the medium with the message.

I realise that as an employee of the Conservative party, Elder’s job is to talk up its “successes” against all rational logic but, really, does he actually believe that this idea was executed in a way that was positive for the Tories? His argument, and that of some other social media practitioners, seems to be that if you get something trending, you’ve automatically “won”. But in this case people aren’t talking about Unite, the BA strike or Charlie Whelan (the point of the Tory campaign). Instead, they’re talking about how a flagship Tory website has been forced offline in embarrassing circumstances – and having a bloody good laugh about it. How is this a win?

Using the Tory rationale, Nestlé had a good day on Friday, when the company’s name began to trend on Twitter following claims by Greenpeace about the slaying of orang-utans during Nestlé’s harvesting of palm oil, which was compounded by Nestlé’s disastrous intervention on Facebook, in which it told people to stop using its logo. In reality, of course, the brand has taken a dive and the thing is already a case study in how not to “do” social media.

Looking back, if it’s remembered at all, I very much doubt CashGordon will be seen as a brilliant use of Twitter as a political campaigning medium. Instead, it will be seen as a byword for total technical incompetence and a fundamental misunderstanding of the point of social media.

Footnote: In case you’re wondering, and since there’s an election brewing, this blog is not pro-Labour, nor is it pro- any other political party.

That the Tories have chosen Manchester as the host city for their last conference before a General Election says something about their state of mind. As an historical hotbed of socialism and radical thought – and with only one Tory MP in the connurbation – Manchester’s selection hints at a level of confidence and swagger that has been missing from the party during the wilderness years from 1997 to date. Picking Manchester is a statement of intent about how the Tories intend to reach out of their comfort zone and, in so doing, win the election. At the same time, so the argument goes, Manchester should be flattered by the attention and the “economic benefits” the conference brings with it.

On the other hand, it’s worth pondering whether it really matters where the Conservatives hold their conference. No policy will be made this week, the average Mancunian is kept apart from proceedings by a heavily guarded ring of steel and the event is staged entirely for the benefit of television. You could hold the conference on the Isles of Scilly and it wouldn’t really make much difference to the half-baked pronouncements about dole scroungers, Broken Britain and the rest of the dross that emanates from David Cameron’s mouth in the direction of readers of The Sun.

Let’s not kid ourselves. The Tories are outsiders and Manchester is their Butlins. They’ll be here for a few days and then they’ll disappear into the countryside. The only lasting impact of Manchester on these people will be as a source of misguided jokes about pigeon fanciers and coal in the bath. Tories go home.

So. Here’s a list of observations:

0-15secs. Repetition of the phrase “Cameron Direct”. Who is this Cameron Direct? Some kind of alter ego? Annoying. And it ignores the basic rule that repeating your own name out loud as part of some kind of branding exercise just looks crass.

10secs. Emphasis of “26th”. As though doing Cameron Directs is really exhausting, and reaching the grand milestone of 26 of them is somehow to be admired. “I’m in Watford and I’m doing my twenty-sixth Cameron Direct.” So f***ing what?

14-23secs. Explanation of Cameron Direct, which ends with the stupid phrase “think you’re all rubbish”. Clearly supposed to sound chummy and fun, but actually subliminally implants the idea that Cameron is rubbish, while coming off a bit Alan Partridge.

32 secs. Cameron bounds on to the stage and inexplicably touches his own arse.

37 secs. “People have a right to ask me the questions that they want to know the answers to.” He might then add: “And I’ll do my utmost to avoid answering them.”

38 secs. The comically excessive pointing begins, as Cameron starts interacting with the people. Reminds me of Chris Morris in Brass Eye (see link below).

50 secs. In response to a question from an ageing Richard Branson lookalike, Cameron delivers arguably the most ludicrous section of the piece. “Why don’t we take things like the Regional Assemblies, the regional spatial strategies, the regional transport plans and [stupid mime] roll them all up and put them in the bin!” Well firstly, the current government has already decided to scrap Regional Assemblies as of next year – so although this is actually one of the few concrete policy ideas in the broadcast, it’s not, in fact, his idea. Secondly, Cameron seems to be advocating getting rid of anything that involves long-term strategy and planning and, presumably, replacing it with something much less well thought out that appeals to NIMBYs and Daily Mail headline writers (way to go, Dave). Then there’s the phrase “roll them all up and put them in the bin!”, which just sounds ludicrous.

1’27 In response to another question, Cameron says he’s going to “bust open the monopoly to provide more good schools… for our children”. He seems to be suggesting wholesale privatisation of the education system. Maybe, as part of this “busting open of the monopoly” Tesco and McDonalds and DHL will be allowed to open primary schools. He isn’t very clear.

1’37 More pointing and bolting from cars. He’s a man of action, yeah?

1’44 “If the answer was no, he said it was no.” Unless, one assumes, someone asked him “Have you ever taken cocaine?”

2’10 “Cameron Direct” is pluralised as “Cameron Directs” – and with no hint of irony. Comically dreadful.

2’12 Lots of boring electioneering stuff about how Gordon Brown has screwed the economy (including about five seconds on what Cameron would do differently).

2’58 “I’ve started a campaign called Save the Penguins.” Cameron cocks his head to one side and makes a simpering face. Reminiscent of Alan Partridge. Again.

3’22 A long segment in which Cameron exhibits his inability to pronounce certain consonants. The words “targets” and “politics” sound especially bizarre.

3’56 Cameron leaves the stage and collides with a man. An almost-bear-hug ensues.

4’04 Pensive staring out of the train window. The man of action becomes more thoughtful here.

4’04 to end. Repeated use of the word “change” – one by Cameron and two by apparently random members of the public. Then a graphic: “Vote for change.” Change. Change. Change. I’m sure there was another recent political campaign that focused on this word but I can’t put my finger on it. Still, I must be wrong. Cameron is physically incapable of jumping on a bandwagon.

And here’s a video of Chris Morris in Brass Eye. The studio colour scheme, outfit, hairstyle, patronising tone and absolute bollocks being spoken bear some remarkable similarities to Cameron Direct.

]]> http://www.wordsdept.co.uk/2009/05/24/cameron-direct-election-broadcast-mines-alan-partridge-and-brass-eye-for-inspiration/feed/ 0 http://www.wordsdept.co.uk/2008/07/10/nice-to-woodpile-to-woodpile-nice/ http://www.wordsdept.co.uk/2008/07/10/nice-to-woodpile-to-woodpile-nice/#comments Thu, 10 Jul 2008 18:05:02 +0000 David Quinn http://www.wordsdept.co.uk/?p=248 Another day, another Tory using an absurd racist phrase. This time it’s Lord Dixon Smith, who used the term “n— in the woodpile” in a debate about the Housing and Regeneration Bill in the House of Lords on Monday. The comment, and his apology, is recorded in Hansard.

Looking at the Hansard excerpt, I noticed something interesting. It turns out that if you use the “N-word” in the House of Lords you are allowed to carry on for several minutes with your long-winded speech before anyone pulls you up about it – at which point you are allowed to make a nonsensical apology (“I left my brains behind”) before carrying on making up laws as if nothing has happened. Whereas in Big Brother, for example, you get thrown out immediately.

I suppose it’s a question of perspective. After all, who gives a toss about what happens in the House of Lords? It’s only on telly in the afternoon and isn’t sponsored by Carphone Warehouse.

All of this follows an incident last month where a Tory Welsh Assembly Minister, Alun Cairns, inexplicably blurted out the phrase “greasy wops” in apparent reference to the Italian football team on live radio.

In fairness, it’s not just the Tories who are at it. The “woodpile” phrase was used last month by a Liberal Democrat councillor, Michael Rich, in reference to Nottinghamshire County Council. He was initially unapologetic, claiming the phrase

…is well established in the English language and is in the Oxford English Dictionary…

This suggests “n— in the woodpile” is making a mysterious and unlikely comeback among a newly unrestrained political class. I imagine an under-pressure Yvette Cooper will yelp it out on Newsnight sooner or later, after which it will surely cross into the mainstream and Vernon Kay, that latter day Bruce Forsyth, will adapt it for use as his favoured Saturday night greeting on All Star Family Fortunes.

In the inside back cover is Piers Morgan, “Columnist of the Year” (but not entirely successful tabloid editor), who reveals, a mere seven lines into his article, that Gordon Brown recently “dropped in” to a birthday party for First News, “the children’s newspaper that I helped create”.

“I can’t stay long,” he said.

Hope you’ve got a good excuse,” I replied.

“I’ve got to see the Queen.”

What a fascinating exchange. I didn’t read on.

Perhaps sensing that Gordon is, indeed, a moron, Dylan Jones, editor of GQ, chooses to big up David Cameron in his own column elsewhere inside the rag. It’s no secret that Jones is an admirer of the arse Cameron, having stuck him on the cover of GQ a while back. But the way he crowbars in a clumsy reference to the burgeoning love affair between them is nothing short of an affront to human dignity.

He starts off by parping on at some length about why it’s no embarrassment to drive a Volvo XC70 rather than a “midlife crisis sports car”. This is merely a diversion tactic, though, because the real meat of the piece begins six paragraphs from the end, when Jones launches into the Cameroon anecdote.

It really is of the worst possible variety, containing, as it does, reference to the pair of them getting changed in a “local hotel” before a black-tie event in Birmingham. This is carefully calculated to transmit the idea that Jones isn’t just the editor of a glossy magazine for middle-aged bores but in fact has the ear of the rich and powerful.

Dave, it transpires, has lost his bow-tie, so Dylan offers him a spare. But Dave isn’t impressed and holds it in the air like a “dead rat”, because it’s “ready-tied”. In response, Dave says:

“It’s like discovering Elle McPherson has fake breasts.”

Hmm. You can see the logic. It’s a line that’s presumably been approved by Conservative Central Office and is crafted to show that Cameron has a sense of humour, that he is “a bloke” and that he talks about tits with ordinary bald Volvo drivers in Birmingham.

However, it doesn’t quite work. Because ultimately, the fact that Cameron inexplicably refuses to wear a ready-tied bow-tie, belittles the bearer of the item and then makes a sexist joke proves beyond doubt that he is a big-chinned, twatty toff.

NB Neither piece is on the Mail’s webshite, hence no links.

Value added bollocks: If you like Dave, you may wish to purchase one of these.

Insert your own joke here.

Guardian link.