BIFFO BOUNCE-BACK: A ROLE FOR CREATIVITY IN FIANNA FAIL'S RESURRECTION?

If you were the wife, child, or family friend of Taoiseach Brian Cowen you would be rightly worried for his personal well-being and happiness. If you were his party ally, you would be concerned for, or debating, his political future. If you were his electoral opponents you would be hoping that despite continually calling for his head, he would remain stoically in office until the next general election when the populace would award him a right royal kicking and send him shambling back to the Dail leading his dismembered party into a long purgatory languishing on the opposition benches.   

The question is this: can anyone, anything, or any force stand in the way of this looming catastrophe for Ireland's self-styled ‘natural party of government'? ST feels there may be only one route to salvation for the embattled Taoiseach; one that may go against his own best personal instincts. That route involves advertising. A man is entitled to speak well of himself and advertising is the place to do it. 

Like all national leaders, the Taoiseach finds himself surrounded by party friends and political enemies. Sometimes it's hard to decipher which can cause him more damage. So the first step in the Cowen revival plan involves the effective silencing of the daft and dopey. We, and he, know who they are - and they're not all in the backwoods of the backbenches either. Ministers Ahern, Cullen, Coughlan and especially Minister Martin can be reasonably relied on not to make a pig's ear of public debate and must be encouraged and to concentrate on the philosophical force of the FF argument. 

The party's top-tier must appear like they are capable of governing, not just arguing or dissembling. Let them perform as if they no longer care what happens to them or the party at the next election. Let them also say - we know our leader. He falls, we fall; he goes, we go. In public, let them give a cast-iron guarantee.

None of us will be the next FF leader if Cowen is forced out of office before or after the next election. It is a time for blood brothers and sisters to be just that. And where should they give that guarantee? On Primetime? On Newstalk? On the Late Late with the show's new host, Ryan Tubridy, in September? No, FF should call on the power of the press and place full page ads written in blood and printed in black and white. 

The ads should appear simultaneously on the opening day of the next Dail term in every national title of record, tabloid and broadsheet. The ad is about commitment to the future under Cowen. But it does not show Cowen or feature his words.

It is Cowen through the eyes of those who have most to gain (and thereby most to lose) through his continued leadership of the party. The one-day, one-off effort is the laying down of a covenant; the cancelling of any internal challenge. It represents the first step towards certainty.  Step two is recreating the man himself.

It is done by dint of Cowen being recreated; no airbrushing, Carr Communications, or a suited reshaping by Louis Copeland but by personal effort. It's not a cheap jibe but a simple reality. Cowen must look fit to carry out the job. The weight of the world may be on his shoulders but it can't be around his waist. He needs to come back to the Dail looking like a new man; only then can he start talking like one. 

Step 3: Cowen leads on Lisbon. Creatively, his communication stance must be to understand and defuse his opponents on the ‘No' side, if need-be by self-deprecation but certainly not by attempting to batter them into submission. He must successfully share his optimism that Europe is the best place in the world for Ireland and he must do so in a manner that makes it clear he's self-aware of where he stands in the national estimation at the present time. It will give him leadership credentials. The ad might say: ‘By all means kick my arse, but don't take it out on Lisbon'.

DESTINY'S GUILE Taoiseach Brian Cowen needs an image makeover if Fianna Fail are not to see the party's ratings hit fatal proportions. FF's best hope is to run a self-deprecatory press campaign to strengthen Cowen's leadership and plan wisely to get Lisbon passed. PHOTO: TONY O'SHEA, THE SUNDAY BUSINESS POST

It may well be that the nation demands a blood-sacrifice in return for the sorry state we're in. Blame me if you want, Cowen should say, but don't punish yourselves. I will take the hit. A collective of the great and the good from all walks of Irish life, including Seamus Heaney and Robbie Keane, have joined forces to promote the case for Europe. Their underlying worry is that people may instinctively react against the advice of politicians. Cowen must have the chutzpah to show this isn't so. Politics is more important than poetry or even football; much as it pains us to admit it. 

It is said that the hour maketh the man. It's time for our Taoiseach to carpe his diem.

LOSS OF IDENTITY
The changed face of Ireland can be seen on the corner of Duke and Dawson Streets where Graham O'Sullivan's restaurant has turned into Carlucci's Café and the new menu on view shows chicken and chips has been replaced by fegato e patate. 

The only fly in the pesto is the fact that chef Antonio Carlucci has little to do with the café that bears his name. In 2005, Carlucci floated his chain on the lifestyle-obsessed London Stock Exchange, pocketing ten million tasty big ones in the process. 

It turned out to be a recipe for disaster.  His 28-year-marriage collapsed, he was no longer involved in the business he loved and the quality of the food suffered. Worst of all was Carlucci's loss of sense-of-self. "When you sell your name as a brand, your name is gone," Mr C remarked. "It's a deep psychological thing. You sell a little bit of yourself for the money; you lose your own identity". The esteemed man of menus had become a waiter serving at the table of public relations.

Marketing is forever buying, borrowing, applying, altering and selling identities both real and fictitious. When the industry is at its best, it can turn the fictitious into the real by creating brands with genuine personality. But take a real person and turn him into a mediocre advertising sandwich board and that's when we all lose our identities.

FRUITY ON TOP
According to the other ST, a group of 13 Bulgarian women are suing a drinks company for its poster showing a luscious lady in a bikini and carrying the slogan - "The Watermelon Season is here".  Hilarious, according to the Troubled Thirteen, bold Bulgarian men have taken to shouting: "Hey! Nice watermelons" and trying to feel if they are ripe. Some words of warning, don't try this in Tramore.

RACE TO BASE
Moliere once remarked that "Of all the noises known to man, opera is the most expensive". Brand managers the world over have rephrased that to mean: "Of all the images made by man, TV commercials are the most expensive".

As recession bites, rumours arise of cut-price production deals with quotations dropping faster than Dublin 4 property values. How you view this rush to the bottom of the price pile inevitably depends on whether you're on the receiving or imposing end. One thing is certain; sympathy will be in short supply.

The sun has set on budget-busting, five-day shoots and infamous ‘internal mark-ups'.  Bottom-lines are being pinched and the script that reads ‘Open on an exotic beach' now involves one day on Dollymount Strand and a bit of post-production.

Equally, one wonders how attendances at Kinsale will be affected this year. A flyer from the organising committee makes the threatening point that if a creative director opts to send just one team to expensive Cannes (including himself presumably), he could end up being out of a job just because he's hit 40.

Far better (it insinuates) to send everyone off to Kinsale and then hope one of the younger pups may have pity on you in your sadder later years. An example of the use of fear in advertising by people in advertising for people in advertising 

FROM WHERE MEMORIES HAIL
Anyone remember any advertising for the Euro or local elections?  No, thought not.  There must have been some; certainly there were lots of posters on lampposts with people-pictures on each and every one. The People Before Profit party seem to have the prettiest boys on the electoral block, certainly out Dun Laoghaire way.

Do looks count? Absolutely; whether they should or not is a different issue. Olivia O'Leary spoke on RTE Radio 1 of feeling scared at the giant-size portrait of Labour leader Eamon Gilmore glowering down on her from the side of Liberty Hall. 

A touch of George Orwell and 1984 presumably. But what if it was beautiful Barack Obama instead of the less-than-glam Gilmore? Would Olivia have voted yes to that? One cut-through slogan was for an Independent candidate called William Somebody from County Somewhere.  ‘Put Willie In!' his posters proudly proclaimed, winning him pride of place on mainline and social media. Fair play Willie; pity you didn't make it. Size is the only thing that matters to returning officers on election night.

One other piece had ST purring.  It's a new ad for VW Polo that borrows an old headline from VW Beetle, and as viewers of Mad Men will recall from series one, was one of the greatest ever written. All it says is ‘Think small'.

In the original, DDB New York drew attention to the fact that for an American audience reared on driving leviathan gas-guzzlers, the newly-arrived people's car represented good goods in a small parcel.  Reworked by Owens DDB in Dublin (see cover story), the line refers to the low price of the Polo. Nice one; referential, reverential, recycled and relevant. Bill Bernbach turns contentedly in his grave. 

Thinking small is thinking clever these stray days.

NO CANNES DO The organisers of Sharks 2009 decided to target agencies with these messages in an effort to drum up delegates for the international festival in Kinsale this September.

CRUELTY TO MAGPIES
And finally... As a new Premier League season beckons, Sun columnist Kelvin MacKenzie told readers that Oxo has produced a special black and white cube to mark Newcastle United's drop into the Coca-Cola Championship.

It's called Laughing Stock.

 breandanobroin@companyofwords.com

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