Retiring Gracefully
By Graham Davies
Ten minutes ago, I received news that our entertaining guest decided to depart the dinner table. He never intended to become the main event, he didn't want to embarrass his host, and so in gentlemanly, gracious style, he opted to slip away from the party.
The panel is strangely perplexed, crestfallen and confused. It's the result they wanted. But it wasn't delivered to them in the way they wanted it. In terms of judging a situation and measuring his audience, you have to say that this was one piece of footwork from John which was faultlessly professional.
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
Guess Who's Coming to Dinner: Len or John?
By Graham Davies
You're having a smart dinner with some rich professional friends. Along comes an unshaven, scruffily dressed chap, who gets confused over which knife and fork to use and when. But he's self-deprecating about his appearance, he has a natural charm, he's intelligent, he's entertaining, he's generous to others, and he's funny. So what do you do? Throw him out because he doesn't know which way to pass the port? Certainly not (unless you're an unpleasant, arrogant snob who puts the conventions and protocols of dining ahead of the personal appeal of your guests).
Strictly Come Dancing is the party, Len is the snobbish host, John Sergeant is our surprising visitor and the other diners are the voting public. Len's spoiling the party by getting all worked up and acid about John's inability to hold his cutlery the right way, and the more Len gets worked up, the more of a fool he looks, and the more everyone wants their unconventional new friend to stay.
We all love the underdog; we warm to people who're nice. And we hate stuffy, arrogant, pompous, humourless, narrow-minded individuals who expect everyone else to fall into line with their elevated expert opinion.
But Len's probably well aware of that: big-brother-X-apprentice-idol-factor-reality telly needs goodies and baddies if it's to raise any interest whatsoever, so maybe canny Len's just looking out for a long contract for himself and the approval of his paymasters, Simon Cowell style. Which leaves John as the fall guy and the paying public as the willing dupes.
There is a useful lesson from all this: whenever you are presenting yourself, if you take yourself too seriously for the circumstances, you will end up looking ridiculous. No-one will listen to you, like you…or be persuaded by you. On the other hand, a sense of self-deprecation and self-parody is actually very powerful. That’s the reality of it.
By Graham Davies
You're having a smart dinner with some rich professional friends. Along comes an unshaven, scruffily dressed chap, who gets confused over which knife and fork to use and when. But he's self-deprecating about his appearance, he has a natural charm, he's intelligent, he's entertaining, he's generous to others, and he's funny. So what do you do? Throw him out because he doesn't know which way to pass the port? Certainly not (unless you're an unpleasant, arrogant snob who puts the conventions and protocols of dining ahead of the personal appeal of your guests).
Strictly Come Dancing is the party, Len is the snobbish host, John Sergeant is our surprising visitor and the other diners are the voting public. Len's spoiling the party by getting all worked up and acid about John's inability to hold his cutlery the right way, and the more Len gets worked up, the more of a fool he looks, and the more everyone wants their unconventional new friend to stay.
We all love the underdog; we warm to people who're nice. And we hate stuffy, arrogant, pompous, humourless, narrow-minded individuals who expect everyone else to fall into line with their elevated expert opinion.
But Len's probably well aware of that: big-brother-X-apprentice-idol-factor-reality telly needs goodies and baddies if it's to raise any interest whatsoever, so maybe canny Len's just looking out for a long contract for himself and the approval of his paymasters, Simon Cowell style. Which leaves John as the fall guy and the paying public as the willing dupes.
There is a useful lesson from all this: whenever you are presenting yourself, if you take yourself too seriously for the circumstances, you will end up looking ridiculous. No-one will listen to you, like you…or be persuaded by you. On the other hand, a sense of self-deprecation and self-parody is actually very powerful. That’s the reality of it.
Tuesday, 11 November 2008
Foster Care in the Third Reich?
By Graham Davies
Councillor Michael Stark of Redbridge Council told Jon Gaunt of Talksport that the authority had instituted a blanket ban on smokers becoming foster carers. Jon told him he was a Nazi. From which I conclude that Adolf Hitler had a foster care policy based on an enlightened and advanced understanding of the risks of passive smoking.
Alternatively, Jon is someone who thinks it's OK to suggest that anyone he doesn't agree with him subscribes to Nazi values, attitudes and actions. These would include mass murder, racism, and crimes against humanity, which isn't an acceptable thing to say about anyone. Apart from Nazis, of course.
By Graham Davies
Councillor Michael Stark of Redbridge Council told Jon Gaunt of Talksport that the authority had instituted a blanket ban on smokers becoming foster carers. Jon told him he was a Nazi. From which I conclude that Adolf Hitler had a foster care policy based on an enlightened and advanced understanding of the risks of passive smoking.
Alternatively, Jon is someone who thinks it's OK to suggest that anyone he doesn't agree with him subscribes to Nazi values, attitudes and actions. These would include mass murder, racism, and crimes against humanity, which isn't an acceptable thing to say about anyone. Apart from Nazis, of course.
People might argue that "Nazi" is passing into common useage to mean anyone who holds fanatical views relating to anything at all. Maybe so. But words will always set off resonances which cut right back to their roots. And in an internet age, it's more critical than ever to take real care over your remarks. Anyone fancy a "crusade against terror", Mr.Bush?
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
Like you, vote for me
By Graham Davies
For Lewis Hamilton the magic number was 98 to become champion of the world. For Barack Obama and John McCain it is 270.
Whether it is votes, goals, points or position, success is a binary business. ‘Better’ or ‘More’ has to be calculated, and an assembly of ones and zeros is the only way to provide clarity.
However, how you obtain your success is far from binary. For Obama and McCain, getting people to vote for them it is not a black and white issue. They must persuade the electorate that either by way of natural fit or contrast they are just right for the White House. Persuasion involves a lot of grey.
In the American sales-centric society, there is almost a genetic predisposition toward persuasive presentations.
Both presidential candidates have extensively exploited the likeability factor in persuasion: I do what you do, I talk like you, I look like you….so I can represent you.
Even the otherwise cartoon-like Sarah Palin has done this well. By continually playing the ‘I am like you’ card she has made very little go a very long way in one-dimensional Middle-America.
Mind you, this approach works no matter what the nationality of the audience.
If you reflect their attitudes, goals, beliefs, and vocabulary, they will open their minds to be persuaded.
In the USA tonight, the grey of the persuasive process will only again become black and white with the ink on millions of ballot papers.
By Graham Davies
For Lewis Hamilton the magic number was 98 to become champion of the world. For Barack Obama and John McCain it is 270.
Whether it is votes, goals, points or position, success is a binary business. ‘Better’ or ‘More’ has to be calculated, and an assembly of ones and zeros is the only way to provide clarity.
However, how you obtain your success is far from binary. For Obama and McCain, getting people to vote for them it is not a black and white issue. They must persuade the electorate that either by way of natural fit or contrast they are just right for the White House. Persuasion involves a lot of grey.
In the American sales-centric society, there is almost a genetic predisposition toward persuasive presentations.
Both presidential candidates have extensively exploited the likeability factor in persuasion: I do what you do, I talk like you, I look like you….so I can represent you.
Even the otherwise cartoon-like Sarah Palin has done this well. By continually playing the ‘I am like you’ card she has made very little go a very long way in one-dimensional Middle-America.
Mind you, this approach works no matter what the nationality of the audience.
If you reflect their attitudes, goals, beliefs, and vocabulary, they will open their minds to be persuaded.
In the USA tonight, the grey of the persuasive process will only again become black and white with the ink on millions of ballot papers.
Thursday, 30 October 2008
Brand and Ross Wireless Wirewalkers
By Graham Davies
Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross are essentially paid danger money to walk the line of comedic acceptability. As Ross’s remuneration is £18 million over 3 years the BBC must accept that the danger is ever present and they should police situation accordingly.
Comedy is the high wire act of entertainment. Just because the ‘Sachs attack’ was perpetrated by experienced wirewalkers, it was not necessarily funny. More like third form humour with all the short trousered sophistication of Bart and his prank calls to Mo.
Such is the ego of these hapless radio hacks that they are only happy when they are being recorded, so how wonderful when the fall guy is not in and the moment is captured on an answer phone. So the victim can enjoy their genius again and again.
To take nine minutes on air to snigger about sex with an actor’s grand-daughter, it must have been very funny indeed. No wonder it was signed off as top quality broadcast material.
With a wife who is an accomplished writer, more than a bit of experience in broadcast and a speech impediment, we would all imagine that Ross understands that what you say is important.
Politicians and leaders in business know all to well that if they don’t get the words right they well might be asked to get out. This is why humour should be treated like caviar and not spread around like marmalade.
Sadly, Ross is starting to believe his own label as ‘Jonathon Ross the funny man’. In doing so, he has forgotten the fundamentals of comedy. Be outspoken, be outrageous, be ingenious, be clever but most of all….. …….be funny.
By Graham Davies
Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross are essentially paid danger money to walk the line of comedic acceptability. As Ross’s remuneration is £18 million over 3 years the BBC must accept that the danger is ever present and they should police situation accordingly.
Comedy is the high wire act of entertainment. Just because the ‘Sachs attack’ was perpetrated by experienced wirewalkers, it was not necessarily funny. More like third form humour with all the short trousered sophistication of Bart and his prank calls to Mo.
Such is the ego of these hapless radio hacks that they are only happy when they are being recorded, so how wonderful when the fall guy is not in and the moment is captured on an answer phone. So the victim can enjoy their genius again and again.
To take nine minutes on air to snigger about sex with an actor’s grand-daughter, it must have been very funny indeed. No wonder it was signed off as top quality broadcast material.
With a wife who is an accomplished writer, more than a bit of experience in broadcast and a speech impediment, we would all imagine that Ross understands that what you say is important.
Politicians and leaders in business know all to well that if they don’t get the words right they well might be asked to get out. This is why humour should be treated like caviar and not spread around like marmalade.
Sadly, Ross is starting to believe his own label as ‘Jonathon Ross the funny man’. In doing so, he has forgotten the fundamentals of comedy. Be outspoken, be outrageous, be ingenious, be clever but most of all….. …….be funny.
Monday, 27 October 2008
Tory Talk Talk
By Graham Davies
The war time maxim was loose lips sink ships. Today it has changed to loose lips on ships sink careers.
George Osbourne initially thought that he could use this to his advantage. He let slip, at some length, that he had heard the maestro of manipulation Mandelson speak his mind about what makes Gordon Brown so awful. How naïve: breaking a confidence only to tell us all something that was obvious.
As George comes from excellent stock, he should have known the rules of tiger hunting. Check there is only one of them and make sure you kill with the first shot. If you don’t, it will have your arm off before there is time to reload.
As it happened, unfortunate George found the response came from a different direction: a similarly plummy chum who believed in quid pro quo.
The exposure of a conservative plot to ram-raid a Russian oligarch’s petty cash tin showed how seedy things can get, even in very glamorous surroundings. The ensuing he said, she said, they said left us all past caring.
George will hang on to his job by his fingernails. However, I hope he remembers a key concept: in any presentation situation you must resist the desire to tell all. Editing for impact is the best way to create maximum effect…and maximum career longevity.
By Graham Davies
The war time maxim was loose lips sink ships. Today it has changed to loose lips on ships sink careers.
George Osbourne initially thought that he could use this to his advantage. He let slip, at some length, that he had heard the maestro of manipulation Mandelson speak his mind about what makes Gordon Brown so awful. How naïve: breaking a confidence only to tell us all something that was obvious.
As George comes from excellent stock, he should have known the rules of tiger hunting. Check there is only one of them and make sure you kill with the first shot. If you don’t, it will have your arm off before there is time to reload.
As it happened, unfortunate George found the response came from a different direction: a similarly plummy chum who believed in quid pro quo.
The exposure of a conservative plot to ram-raid a Russian oligarch’s petty cash tin showed how seedy things can get, even in very glamorous surroundings. The ensuing he said, she said, they said left us all past caring.
George will hang on to his job by his fingernails. However, I hope he remembers a key concept: in any presentation situation you must resist the desire to tell all. Editing for impact is the best way to create maximum effect…and maximum career longevity.
Thursday, 16 October 2008
Brown's day has come
by Graham Davies
Some people are designed for disasters. Gordon Brown is one of them. During the jolliest of times, his demeanour is a cross between that of an emergency surgeon and an undertaker. Even when he is talking about good news, there seems to be an undertone of misery. He is banned from the House of Commons bar during Happy Hour.
But I think we can all agree that he is now the right man in the right job at the right time. He automatically presents himself as the only one with the intellect, experience and core attitude that the country needs. Frankly, we want a prime minister to look miserable at the moment. Somehow, I can’t imagine the solution to banking crisis being as well presented by posh DavenGeorge, fresh from the school debating club.
It is actually very difficult to think of anything that Brown could have presented better over the last 10 days. There was one occasion last week when he was speaking at an awards dinner about a subject that was totally unrelated to the credit crunch. Suddenly a mobile phone went off in the audience very loudly. Usually, this is an uncomfortable embarrassment for a senior political figure. They are usually incapable of the fast verbal footwork that turns the interruption into a positive. However, on the sixth reign Brown looked up, smiled just slightly, and said “I hope that isn’t another bank going down.”
It was a comedy triumph. I have never seen him look so liberated. He is in danger of becoming a serious politician with an effective sense of humour. What a frightening thought.
by Graham Davies
Some people are designed for disasters. Gordon Brown is one of them. During the jolliest of times, his demeanour is a cross between that of an emergency surgeon and an undertaker. Even when he is talking about good news, there seems to be an undertone of misery. He is banned from the House of Commons bar during Happy Hour.
But I think we can all agree that he is now the right man in the right job at the right time. He automatically presents himself as the only one with the intellect, experience and core attitude that the country needs. Frankly, we want a prime minister to look miserable at the moment. Somehow, I can’t imagine the solution to banking crisis being as well presented by posh DavenGeorge, fresh from the school debating club.
It is actually very difficult to think of anything that Brown could have presented better over the last 10 days. There was one occasion last week when he was speaking at an awards dinner about a subject that was totally unrelated to the credit crunch. Suddenly a mobile phone went off in the audience very loudly. Usually, this is an uncomfortable embarrassment for a senior political figure. They are usually incapable of the fast verbal footwork that turns the interruption into a positive. However, on the sixth reign Brown looked up, smiled just slightly, and said “I hope that isn’t another bank going down.”
It was a comedy triumph. I have never seen him look so liberated. He is in danger of becoming a serious politician with an effective sense of humour. What a frightening thought.
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