“Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’, Rawhide!” Yep, we’re all set for The Decision Marketing Bus Tour of Britain, apart from the fact we haven’t got a bus, haven’t got a map and haven’t got a clue where we’re going.
The same it seems can’t be said for our old frenemy, the self-styled Dame Anna Wintour of advertising trade rag Campaign, Claire Beale. She is leaving suddenly after so many aeons yet still has it all mapped out with “a really exciting opportunity to do something new that helps shape an exhilarating future for our industry”.
That’s right, the Queen of Advertising has been pushed – or should I say “is leaving the brand after more than two decades as part of a restructure as parent company Haymarket adjusts to the challenges of coronavirus”.
Cue more outpouring of emotion on Twitter than if Queen Liz herself had snuffed it: “You will be greatly missed”; “total legend”; “my brilliant friend”; “your legacy will never be forgotten”; “such a force”; “a massive loss”; “I never got to kiss your ring”…OK, I did think about posting that tweet but never quite got round to it.
Of course, my esteemed boss is rather miffed as all he got was “good riddance Phil Mitchell” when he was pushed out of Precision Marketing and Data Strategy 12 years ago – or should I say “left after nearly two decades as part of a restructure as parent company Centaur adjusted to being run by fecking idiots”.
Anyway, more the point, who the hell am I going to write about now? The “dream team” of Gideon and Maisie? Sadly there are thin pickings there…
When was the last time they were spotted in a top London eatery wearing sunglasses? When did they ever write that Nigel Farage was “an impressive marketer and storyteller whose simple, focused and repetitive messaging enshrines some smart strategic practices”? When did they last make themselves the lead story on their own magazine?
Still, I shouldn’t be too unkind, I hear our Claire looks great on film. And, while we may be polar opposites – I’m young, sassy, with brains and curves to match and she’s, er, not – we’re all sisters under the skin (it’s just there’s slightly less of her).
So, the Queen is dead, long live the Queen.