Losing my voting cherry

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m not a political person. Or rather, they would have until the EU referendum was announced (full disclosure, I voted in the referendum, so I’m technically not a vote virgin – more an election virgin). Since then, I’ve been somewhat more political; I opened my bedroom window at 5am on June 24th and yelled ‘YOU STUPID TWATS!’ out of it when the referendum results came in), and I frequently berate Donald Trump (each of those three words is a separate link!) and his supporters on Twitter.

But for the most part, I still couldn’t stand politics – because I’ve always hated politicians. They are self-serving, bullshitting morons who don’t give a toss about those they’re paid handsomely to represent. And the huge paycheck never seems to be quite enough, so why not claim expenses for everything from Duck Houses to Remembrance Day wreaths? Already own a property in London? No problem – just rent it out for profit and rent yourself another one at the taxpayers’ expense. And this isn’t a partisan dislike of MPs – I’ve always had a deep distrust of them all, regardless of their party affiliation.

MPs have been all kinds of people: marital traitors, sexual deviants, the easily-bought, even pig worriers. All in all, they are untrustworthy, self-serving shitstains. They lie constantly (they are the least trusted profession in the country), they spin questions all over the place, they’re completely out of touch with the people they’re supposed to work for. They’ve always been absolute arseholes, and I’ve never wanted anything to do with them. They’re not right, nor honourable.

Until now.

In September 2015, an old guy with a beard shook things up a bit. A fairly normal bloke who lives in a fairly normal house became leader of the Labour Party. Every time I’ve seen or heard him speak, he seems like a genuinely decent human being – a trait sadly lacking in any other British politician. He’s spent his life campaigning for those less fortunate, and consistently championed causes in which he believes.

Now, I’ll get this out of the way: I’m aware of the IRA/Hamas/Hezbollah thing, and that did give me pause, so I did a little reading. He has, at times, had lapses in judgement in some of the things he’s said and done. Introducing members of Hamas as ‘friends’ was one such time, but he’s explained it well enough to satisfy me (and also gave a grandad-bollocking to Krishnan Guru-Murthy in the process, which is always a bonus). It’s not as if he’s had them round his house for a sleepover; he was trying to help engineer some kind of peace – something for which he’s always advocated – and, in order to do that, was trying to treat people like people. Same for the IRA thing – yeah, he invited Sinn Fein’s Martin McGuinness and Gerry ‘crazy tweets‘ Adams for meetings, but he also met plenty of Unionists like Ian Paisley as part of his attempts to bring about peace. You can’t have peace without peace talks. Do I agree with all of his decisions in the past? No. But has he been photographed sniffing coke off a hooker’s tits? Also no.

I like Jeremy Corbyn.

There – I’ve said it. He strikes me as the closest thing to a normal human being that British politics has seen in a long time. And for some reason, this is why a lot of people seem to dislike him: “He’s not up to the job” – why, because he’s not devious enough to ’employ’ his wife and claim her wage back from us? “Even his own MPs don’t like him” – well that’s fine, because I don’t fucking like any of them; they don’t like him because he makes them all look like the grifting tossers they are.

Now, in doing this, I’m having to vote for Yvette Cooper (my local candidate) which I’m not exactly happy about. She falls into the category of shitty politicians (albeit slightly less so than many others) – I once wrote to her about the fact that someone was poisoning cats in the area, and asking why there wasn’t a bittering agent in antifreeze, and she basically just fobbed me off. So I’ll do that part holding my nose, knowing that I’m actually voting for Corbyn.

I’m aware that my vote probably doesn’t really make much difference; there’s a reason Yvette Cooper is my local candidate – ours is one of the strongest Labour seats in the country. But then again, so was Morley & Outwood. And with the number of people I’ve seen on Facebook chanting about UKIP, it’s just not worth the risk. I also know that Labour beating out the Conservatives is a long shot – especially as the Tories seem to have employed the cheap, misquoting, context-abandoning, vilifying smear tactics seen in the recent US election (which, let’s face it, has resulted in the absolute worst president that country has ever seen – ironically, after the best president it’s ever seen) and in the EU referendum; carefully selected sound bites, designed to mislead the easily-led. Or just plain lies, apparently that’s also a thing.

But I’m hoping beyond hope that the polls are wrong (again) and we wake up on Friday with a new Prime Minister unlike any we’ve seen before. He might not deliver once he’s in there, but hell – none of them have up until now, so why not suck it and see? It’s time for something different.


Oh, one more thing: The Sun ‘news’paper has endorsed Theresa May. So yeah, there’s that.




Obligatory Referendum Blog Post


Wow. It’s been a long time since I posted anything on here. Over a year, in fact.

It’s been far longer since I voted though, because I’ve never done it. I’ve been eligible to vote for 20 years, but today I’ll vote for the first time in my life. You might think that’s irresponsible of me, but the fact is that I dislike politics, and I dislike politicians even more. Not once has there been a candidate or party that I’ve thought capable of adequately representing or running this country. “Vote for the one you hate the least,” people have said to me, but I don’t want that. I want to vote for someone I like. I want us to have an Obama. I’d vote for that guy all day long.

The fact that both of the EU campaigns have been run by politicians shouting the odds has really annoyed me. Neither campaign has showered themselves in glory in the run up to this referendum; both are guilty of scaremongering and, well, bullshit.

So, instead of listening to their ‘facts’, I’ve read as much independent coverage as I can stomach (The BBC’s Reality Check has been particularly useful) and I’ve made up my own mind. I’m voting to stay in, and it’s partly because I fear change, but mostly because I don’t like bullshit, and the Leave campaign has peddled way too much of it, from start to finish.

In an attempt to explain my reasons for voting remain, here are some of the Leave campaigns key reasons for leaving, along with my thoughts on each one. They might be wrong or ill-conceived, but that’s okay because they’re just my thoughts:

SOVEREIGNTY! We can take back control from these unelected bureaucrats. We can run our own country again!
I’ve got a few issues with this statement. Firstly, the European Commission only proposes rules. It’s up to our elected government, and our MEP’s (who we DO vote in and out) to either accept, amend or reject those proposals. So, if we’re getting rules we don’t like, maybe we should elect officials who will fight for the stuff we actually want and against the stuff we don’t? In any case, according to the House of Commons Library Report, the EU generated only 13% of the laws created from 1993 to 2014.

As far as I understand it, European Commissioners are indeed elected (albeit not directly by us) so the ‘unelected bureaucrats’ line doesn’t wash with me. Incidentally, we are at the mercy of a large number of unelected lawmakers, but they’re in the House of Lords in London.

IMMIGRATION! We can take back control of our borders, hurrah!
Except we probably can’t. I’ve seen posts on Facebook telling how amazing life is for Switzerland and Norway, who are in Europe, but not members of the EU. I’m not convinced – they’ve negotiated their own trade deals with the EU and, as part of those deals, both countries have agreed to the Schengen Agreement, becoming part of the Schengen Area.

switzerland facts

Switzerland FACTS* (*Does not contain facts)

In a nutshell, the Schengen Area consists of 26 countries which allow completely free movement of citizens between them. No borders or passports. No checks. No knowing who’s coming or going. At the moment, the UK has chosen not to be a part of the Schengen Area, maintaining our borders and the requirement for passports to enter and leave. Isn’t it reasonable to assume that, as part of any decent trade deal, the EU will require us to join Schengen, as it did Switzerland and Norway? Money talks, and if it’s a choice between either letting people in or not getting a trade deal, you can bet your elected officials will sell us out and sign the Schengen Agreement.

So, anyone who thinks we’ll be able to handle immigration on our own terms is, I think, in for a nasty shock if we leave the EU.


LOOK AT OUR BUS! We send the EU £350 million every week. Let’s fund our NHS instead!
Okay, first things first – that number is utter toss. We get about £4.5 billion a year back in grants. We also get rebates, which are applied straight away and are never even sent, so no – we don’t send £350 million a week, Boris. Our actual net contribution is more like £163 million every week. And here’s how it shapes up against the rest of the UK’s public spending:


Not as much of a massive wedge any more, is it?

And secondly – do you REALLY think that our elected politicians, who have continuously cut budgets and run the NHS into the ground in the first place, will throw any significant amount of money at it, if they got the chance? The reason I’ve never bothered to vote is because they’re all as shit as one another. I can’t think of one UK government that’s done right by its people in my lifetime – why would they start now? I’d rather have a government that’s accountable to someone besides the public which it routinely ignores and defies.

No wait, that’s basically it.

BUT WAIT! Look at all these awesome people who think we should leave!

Indeed. Like:

  • Katie Hopkins (Inexplicably famous for being an arsehole to everyone)
  • Donald Trump (The world’s richest bigot. Probably)
  • Nigel Farage (Leader of ‘definitely not racist’ UKIP)
  • Britain First (Definitely racist)
  • David Icke (Thinks the moon is an artificially-constructed ‘hollowed-out planetoid’ from which a secret race of ‘reptilian humanoids’, including The Queen, George W Bush and, inexplicably, Boxcar Willie, broadcast an artificial sense of reality to control the human race. I’m not kidding.)
  • Keith Chegwin (Has blocked me on Twitter)
  • Milo Yiannopolous (Cue Dr. Evil air quotes… “Journalist”)
  • The Sun newspaper (Known for always telling the truth about stuff)
  • Right Said Fred (Too sexy for the EU)
  • Vicky Pattison (Who?)

Now admittedly, there are a couple of wildcards in the ‘Leave’ list, like John Cleese, Michael Caine and Bryan Adams. For the most part, however, the list contains names that I either don’t recognise or cannot stand.

It has to be said, too, that the ‘Remain’ endorsements list has a couple of names that I couldn’t care less about (David Cameron being the most obvious). But, for the most part, it’s made up of people I like/respect/would dare to be seen in public with, such as:

  • Tim Berners-Lee
  • Sir Ian McKellen
  • Sir Patrick Stewart
  • Sir Richard Branson
  • Stephen Hawking
  • J.K Rowling
  • Sir David Attenborough
  • Eric Idle
  • Liam Neeson
  • Daniel Craig
  • Tim Minchin
  • John Oliver
  • Chris Addison

To summarise, then:

The leave team hasn’t done enough to convince me that life would be better if we left. If anything, their rhetoric and propaganda has only pushed me further towards voting remain.

You see, I’m not a big fan of jumping onto a frozen lake to see if it cracks and I drown. It might not. But it could. And I don’t fancy drowning. For me, it’s a similar theme for the referendum.

Vote Leave say that, as the world’s fifth largest economy, we’ll thrive outside the EU. But will we? Sure, we might. But we just don’t know. How do we know that it wasn’t our membership of the EU which helped us become fifth largest in the first place?

They say we can make our own rules. Hands up those of you who like all the rules and policies our domestic governments have made over the years? Oh.

They’ve spent a lot of time saying how, once we’ve voted to leave the EU on June 23rd, we’ll set up our own points-based immigration system, just like Australia’s. But will we? Sure, we could. But where’s the guarantee?

Here’s my guarantee: I’m voting to remain on June 23rd. Also, no matter what the result of the referendum is, I’ll be happily importing my very own jobless immigrant next month, and there’s nothing Nigel Farage can do about it.


#AskGalloway (but not if it’ll piss him off)

If there was one thing I would EVER advise a business or public figure, it’s that ‘Ask’ hashtags are usually a monumentally bad idea. There are exceptions, of course – if you’re one of the few celebrities or business who are universally admired.

I’m thinking of Olympic heroes like Jess Ennis, or an easily-lovable business like innocent drinks, who have a great twitter team and very few critics in general. Anyone else, no. Just don’t do it because it will not end well.

It’s a particularly bad idea, however, if you’re a controversial politician who clearly has no clue about how social media works. Enter (possibly on all fours and purring) George Galloway MP. But it’s okay – George had a strategy.

Yep. George decided to run an #AskGalloway hashtag on Twitter but, when the inevitable happened and the whole of Twitter began to take the piss (as they always do, no matter who you might be), Georgie just did a Cheggers and started blocking. Everyone. But he replied to some of them first. Throughout the course of the evening, he didn’t answer one serious question (save, possibly, to comment that Louise Mensch ‘marches to a different drum’). He did, however, manage to tick off the following:

Threaten legal action:


Casual namecalling:


Stigmatisation of mental illness:



A mix of casual namecalling and mental health stigmatisation:

Carstairs Tsar

Trivialising alcoholism:


Resorting to ‘I’ve got more followers than you LOL’:

oops 941


male organ

And whatever the hell this is:

Altar boy

Assuming he means ‘Altar boy’, I can’t even begin to guess what form of derogation this might be.

But the one that really pissed me off was this one:

Texan speaks

And this one:

Even Texans

As some of you might know, the person I love most on this planet is a Texan. She’s tolerant, liberal and intellectual. And I’m not just saying that. She has the highest moral values of anyone I’ve ever known. And so naturally, I wanted him to expand on exactly what he meant:

My tweet

…At which point, he promptly blocked me.

In the interests of full disclosure, I should also point out that I took part in the widespread hijack of the hashtag with a few comedy tweets, none of which were offensive. They’re here: Tweet / Tweet / Tweet / Tweet – but I wasn’t blocked until I tweeted and challenged for him to explain his prejudice, as above. I’m also not in any way interested in politics, so I’m not some Tory smear campaigner or whatever. They’re all idiots in my view.

So, anyway. I wasn’t sure if his ‘Texan’ tweet constituted racism at first. Having thought about it a little, I don’t think it does – the term ‘race’ doesn’t relate to a person’s nationality or home state, it’s more their physical attributes. However, it’s my opinion that George Galloway’s comment was xenophobic and bigoted. Not to mention the other pretty outrageous statements he made.

When you consider that Emily Thornberry was forced to resign following a tweet that contained an image of a house adorned in England flags, along with the caption ‘Image from #Rochester”, how is it acceptable for Galloway, an MP for the so-called ‘Respect Party’, to post such a range of bigoted statements publicly and expect not to be challenged about it?

peace, justice & equality (Unless you're alcoholic, mentally ill or from Texas)

peace, justice & equality
(Unless you’re alcoholic, mentally ill or from Texas)

He may argue that it was his interpretation of fact (despite the fact that the lady he replied to was in fact a native of Carlisle and now lives in Washington State), but he must then apply the same logic to all his other tweets, which I think would be difficult. Alter boy [sic]? Broadmoor?

It’s therefore clear to me that ‘A Texan speaks’ was intended as a derogatory remark, and I want to know why he would think that’s the case.

Luckily, George is hosting some kind of public meeting this Saturday about 20 miles from where I live. I’m thinking I might show up and ask him – respectfully, of course – to explain his responses tonight, in particular the one about Texan people.

I might even offer him some free social media advice – although it’ll mostly consist of the words ‘Just’ and ‘don’t’.

tl/dr: George Galloway is a bigoted dick who doesn’t know the first thing about social media.

I’m losing my head (get your money out)

When it comes to writing blog posts, I feel pretty lucky – usually, writing them comes quite easily to me. The fact that I’ve deleted and rewritten this first sentence about a dozen times tells me that this isn’t a usual kind of blog post.

Another way in which I know I’m lucky is that I got to meet one of the kindest, most loving people this world has ever seen. Even better, I was raised by her.


Brenda. 15 March 1951 – 7 February 2014

Yes, I’m aware that everyone feels they have the ‘best mum in the world’, but I’m not just talking about that. Everyone who knew Brenda loved her. Everyone she met knew instantly that she was one of the nicest, most genuine people they’d ever encountered. I’ve been told that a lot since she died.

For over 20 years, she fostered children who needed help. I’ve lost count of how many kids came through our house over the years, but every last one of them ended up loving her. Considering, in some cases, their scepticism towards adults and authority in general, that’s no easy feat, but it’s one she achieved – just by being Brenda. In fact, several of them still refer to her as ‘mum’ – one of them even changed her surname by deed poll. Brenda was a doting grandmother to twelve children, all of whom adored her. In fact, telling my kids that I was taking them to see her for the last time was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. My oldest daughter (aged 8 at the time) wrote this for her. Reading it now still breaks my heart. It’s the first time I’ve ever shared it.

Maddy’s final goodbye

In 2008, mum was diagnosed with lymphoma. For over 5 years, she fought to keep it at bay. In November 2013 it became extremeley aggressive, and in January 2014 she also developed leukaemia.

Mum with my kids – January 2014

On 7 February 2014, I lost my mum to cancer.

On 7 February 2015, I’ll lose my hair to help fight it.

My head’s getting the bic treatment no matter how much I raise. If I hit the £500 target, I’ll get everything waxed (besides my butt & nuts – I’m trying to raise money for charity, not scare the daylights out of some poor beauty therapist). If I hit £1000, I’ll shave off both my eyebrows. How much you donate depends on how stupid you want me to end up looking. It’s your call.

Now, as trivial as a shaved noggin sounds, it carries risks. I’m 36 years old. My maternal grandfather was bald by the time he hit his thirties. My dad became a slaphead in his mid-twenties. My younger brother went ‘full Goodhew’ 5 years ago. When I give myself the Walter White treatment, there’s a good chance it’ll never grow back. If it does, the grey flecks on my temples will likely take hold elsewhere and I’ll look like a less-refined Philip Schofield.

Me. With hair. For now…

That’s not to mention the fact that almost my entire body will be getting waxed. According to many ladies I’ve spoken to, that’s some kind of big deal. Apparently, it hurts a bit.

Whatever happens, it’ll be worth it. The money I raise will be split equally between Cancer Research UK and Leukaemia & Lymphoma Research. Most importantly, it’ll be donated in memory of the most remarkable person I’ll ever know, and I’d be humbled if you’d help me to honour her.

Please – give whatever you can. Head to http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/Finch

I’ll probably never ask you for money ever again. Unless my boiler packs in.


*Update* – We’ve hit the original £500 target, so the waxing will happen. Joy.

I’ve increased the donation page target to £1000 to see if we can’t liberate my eyebrows. If by some miracle we hit £1500, I’ll shave off ONE eyebrow and leave the other one intact. Whoever tips it over the £1500 mark gets to choose which eyebrow goes and which one stays…

Me, the man I’ve never met, and the woman she’s become.

As you can see from the amount of posts I’ve made on here, it’s not very often that I feel compelled to write a blog post. This weekend, however, something happened to do just that.

I’ve been passionate about DJing for a long time. As a kid, I would do as most kids did and indulge in a little bit of analogue piracy – taping my favourite songs from the radio. The difference with me was that, once I had a few new tracks, I’d transfer them to a new tape, interspersing them with links and segues to create my very own radio show. It was called Lynx FM (despite not yet hitting puberty, I had an extensive and inexplicable deodorant collection, of which I was very proud) and it made me a radio presenter. Obviously, it was all in my head, but I didn’t care. I listened back to that tape and MY GOD, I WAS ON THE RADIO. It was exhilarating, and I was hooked.

Fast forward a few years. I’m 17 and and I’m not on the radio, I’m working at a LaserQuest in the local bowling alley. We hosted kids’ parties and, more often than not, bairns would emerge from the arena in tears thanks to the sound effects in there – heartbeats, heavy breathing, footsteps – all the things that set your adrenaline going, but aren’t ideal for a group of people for whom the LaserQuest packs came down to their shins. My solution was the Spice Girls. I brought in my Discman, wired it into the sound system and suddenly, kids were ‘killing’ each other to the glorious sounds of Wannabe. When the company closed the LaserQuest, they had to think of something that would keep me at the SuperBowl. In 1997, I did my first ever Christmas campaign as a DJ. But I wanted more. I wanted radio.

Once, around that time, I went into a proper radio studio. I heard that Radio Aire wanted a voiceover artist to record some new jingles and sponsorship adverts. This was it – my opportunity to get on the radio. I would ROCK IT and get a presenting job. I remember it vividly – the script was ‘Turn your week into the weekend with Bacardi Breezer and Radio Aire.’ I also remember how horrendously nervous I was, and how terrible I sounded on the recordings. The producer in charge of hiring for that project, Cam, politely hinted that I might not get the gig. And that was the end of my career in radio.

Fast forward to today. I’m 36 (I think), and I’ve got a radio show. It’s on the internet and about 5 people listen to it every week. One of them is my fiancée and the others are mostly other people from the station, listening to make sure I don’t say the F word on air. But God, I love doing it. And I’m still DJing. It’s mostly been weddings and whatnot for the last 8 years, but this weekend I’ll be breaking back into the club scene (parp).

During that time, I’ve been many things. I’ve fitted car alarms, I’ve been a graphic designer and a school IT technician. I’ve overseen the building of Land Rovers and sold mobile phones 4 u. I’ve handled complaints to Chief Executives and I’ve sent the odd amusing tweet. But none of that – NONE of it – makes me feel like I do when I’m on the radio. And I’ve got (mostly) one person to thank for that.

If you’ve ever listened to my show, you’ll find it oddly ironic that I’ve always been pretty fussy about who I listen to on the radio. Growing up, there’s only ever been a few presenters that I’ve truly loved listening to – Caesar the Geezer, Chris Moyles, Alex Pepper and Simon Hirst. All of these presenters have kept my love for radio alive, but none more so than Hirsty. Over the years, his passion for radio and for his listeners has inspired me – not only to the point where I ended up with my own show, but also in my own radio personality, which is heavily influenced by both Hirsty and Moyles.

The bottom line is that if it wasn’t for Hirsty, I wouldn’t be a radio presenter, and I certainly wouldn’t be the presenter that I am. I’ve never met him, but I’ve always kind of felt like I’ve known him, as I expect many people have. He’s always been like an old pal for thousands – but for me, he’s also been a true inspiration. And I have no doubt that’s what she’ll continue to be.

This weekend, the irreplaceable Simon Hirst was suddenly replaced. In a profoundly heartfelt interview with Stephen Nolan on Radio 5 Live, Stephanie Hirst introduced herself to the world.

The revelation was a shock – but not really so much in the sense that you might think. The most shocking thing for me was that this poor woman has felt obliged to physically represent herself as a man for so long; that she’s spent the last 30 years of her life hiding herself from the world. The interview was candid, to the point where it moved me to tears. She described it as having someone poking her in the arm, over and over, from the moment she awoke to the moment she fell asleep. I’m a normal bloke with normal worries – money, work, kids, an ex with an axe to grind – and I often have trouble nodding off at night because of it all. But it simply pales in comparison to the private torment that Stephanie must have endured over all these years. I can’t even begin to fathom how she’s coped.

Although I don’t feel like I’ve adequately emphasised my sadness at how hard it must have been for her to manage the situation in which she’s found herself to date (and I’m not sure that I ever could), I really don’t feel as though that’s where the emphasis should be. My overwhelming sadness for Simon is replaced with heartfelt joy for Stephanie – the fact that she can now be who she’s always been, without having the curtains drawn. That she can wear what she wants and look the way she’s always felt is an inspiration in itself. In a world which frequently demonstrates its lack of compassion and understanding, I’m humbled by the courage that she’s shown this weekend, and I’m more in awe of her now than I ever was of him.

The only thing left to do now is get her back on the radio, where she so obviously belongs. It’ll be the same old Hirsty – perhaps with a slightly different voice and a pair of boobs – but she’s still the same witty, hilarious and loveable person that’s been on our radios for the last 20-some years. And if she’s not on our radios for the next 20-some once she’s ready to make a return, there’s something very wrong.

You’ve been an inspiration to me and countless others for years, and I see no reason why that shouldn’t continue.

Thank you and welcome to the world, Stephanie Nicola Hirst.

US Airways: Not a virgin airline?

Today, Twitter exploded as US Airways, refusing to be beaten by a marketing strapline, went one better than Virgin Atlantic’s ‘Flying in the face of ordinary’ campaign…


It’s a normal day in Tempe, Arizona. You’re sitting in your office, just doing your job – replying to people on Twitter for @USAirways. Life is good.

Then you get an email. It’s from that bloke in the office – you know, THAT bloke who always cuts it pretty fine when it comes to office humour, sending NSFW stuff to everyone because bollocks to management, yay!

You open the email. It’s a joke about finding that lost 777. Sigh. There’s a link to a picture on Twitter, but for some reason it’s not blue. Just a quick peek. Won’t hurt. You ctrl+c the link, paste it into the browser and hit go. A plane has crashed into a naked woman’s junk. Hilarious. You tut at that bloke, wondering how the hell he’s still got a job. A quick trip to the water cooler and a chat with that girl you like from accounts, and then it’s back to work. People to help, tweets to send.

Someone’s unhappy with the service she’s received. Her name is Elle. You should help her. You follow the process as usual – tell her that feedback is welcome and drop her a link where she can leave her comments. Just paste it on in there – it’s the link you’ve been giving people all day, so it’s still on your clipboard. Right?



I censored this. It wasn’t pretty.

According to USA Today, US Airways has blamed someone else, “…The image was initially posted to our Twitter feed by another user. We captured the tweet to flag it as inappropriate. Unfortunately the image was inadvertently included in a response to a customer”

We’ll ignore the thing about ‘another user’ posting it to their Twitter feed, as we all know that’s not possible in the literal sense – if someone tweeted it to @USAirways, it obviously wouldn’t appear in their feed. Whatever – the bottom line here is that someone didn’t check their copy/paste text before tweeting from a corporate account. It’s that simple.

Doing social media for a brand is risky business – one of the riskiest, in fact. You have to keep your wits about you, without fail, every second, or there’s a good chance things could turn very ugly, very quickly. There have been plenty of examples of social media staffers dropping the ball, mainly sending a tweet from their personal account, only to find that they’re logged in as the brand. Chrysler once alienated a whole city, while Vodafone alienated half of the species (Sorry, red team – couldn’t resist).

Although I’m sure there have been other copy/paste disasters, I can’t think of one right now. But that doesn’t really matter, because every social media fail to date pales in comparison to this one.

The problem is, these kinds of errors are so easy to make – catastrophe is only ever a mouse-click away. So here are five rules that I made for myself to never, ever break:

  • If you log in to the brand’s social account, do what you need to do and then log out. Now.
  • Don’t log in to the brand account on your phone. If you really have to, then do so on a different app – have one app for personal Twitter, one app for work Twitter, and never the twain shall meet.
  • The chances are, you’ve got more connected devices than you can shake a stick at. Use them. Don’t look at crap on your work computer.
  • When you tweet from your personal account, check that’s what you’re doing. It takes less than a second to glance at the screen.
  • Never EVER trust copy & paste. Always test the link before posting.

Luckily, following these rules has helped prevent me from causing one of these monumental cock-ups. But that could change in an instant at any time. That’s always with me and, if you have access to a brand’s social page, it should always be with you too.

Paddy Power’s taking the Pistorious

I’m lucky enough to work for a company that’s always been pretty forward-thinking about PR and social media. Because of this, I have a certain admiration* for other businesses when they really get that stuff right.

The latest Three campaign – #SingItKitty – has me fuming, simply because they did it and we didn’t. It’s genius – catchy, infectious and the kind of thing you feel compelled to share. Then there are the players who are great at social media; from the whimsical brilliance of Innocent Drinks to the sassy awesomeness of my colleagues over at Tesco Mobile. And then there are the ones that gain their notoriety by sailing close to the wind. Like Paddy Power.

To date, I’ve liked pretty much every stunt that Paddy Power have pulled. Most recently, they crashed the red carpet at The Brits with Daft Punk impersonators, decked out in Paddy Power Y-Fronts. It had all the traits of a great PR campaign – bonkers enough to make people talk about it as part of their ‘did you watch The Brits last night?’ conversations at work the next day, but not stupid enough to prompt a ‘wtf?!’

In 2012, they flipped the middle finger at one thing that frustrated PR people at almost every brand in the UK (including me. ‘North Greenwich Arena’?! Ugh). In the run up to London 2012, I remember reading a brief on what non-sponsors could and couldn’t say. We jokingly referred to the event as ‘The O word’ around the office. Paddy Power? Not one shit was given. They found a way around it and pulled off a brilliant trick:

The Paddy Power billboard at London Bridge Station

Also in 2012, they hired a skywriting team to post ‘Sky Tweets’ above Medinah, Illinois, where the Ryder Cup was in full swing. The messages, such as ‘Tiger loves a bit of rough’, had me giggling at my desk. They ventured up to that ‘line’ I’ve spoke of in previous posts, but stopped short of crossing into outrage territory.

This week, if I worked at Paddy Power, I’d wish I was in outrage territory. They’ve sailed right through that town and out the other side:


For some unknown reason, they thought it’d be a good idea to take bets on the outcome of Oscar Pistorius’ murder trial, with a refund if he’s found not guilty. Not only that, but they’ve also chosen to promote this decision far and wide, using both print and social. And, just for good measure, they decided to poke fun at the double-amputee’s disability, incorporating the line ‘if he walks’ into their copy.

Hang on, WHAT?

Confession: Personally, I’m not offended by it. I don’t find it funny and I consider it to be in bad taste, but I’m pretty thick-skinned and laid back, so stuff like this doesn’t really upset me. Unfortunately for Paddy Power, not everyone feels the same way.

There are people out there who do find it genuinely offensive and upsetting. Then, of course, there are the professionally-offended – those who occupy social media, looking for a bandwagon to leap on, just for shits & giggles. Admittedly, some people think this campaign is hilarious. But they’re generally the same people who are amused by many of the news stories that the rest of us find disturbing, like the Madeleine McCann disappearance – the professionally-offensive.

For the most part, though, the People’s Republic of Cyberspace thinks that it’s an idiotic idea, and this is the point at which I get confused. From a PR perspective, I’m baffled as to how a group of people sat down at Paddy Power HQ and talked this proposal over, without a single one of them stopping to consider that this was one of the stupidest ideas ever conceived. HOW?

I’m not a betting man – my gambling expertise begins and ends with a few (not so lucky) Lucky Dips on the lottery – so I’m certainly no expert on wagers. Looking at various websites, though, I can see that it’s possible to bet on almost anything these days. It’s far from being limited to sport; you can place a bet that Tom Hiddlestone will be the next James Bond, that Zuckerburg will be succeeded by his first-born child, or that Julian Assange will leave the Ecuadorian Embassy using a jet pack. I’m not even joking.

It seems that people will bet on anything and, with that in mind, I can kind of understand why they’re offering odds on the outcome of the trial. They’re a business after all, and a gambling business at that; an industry which isn’t exactly known as the hub of moral responsibility. What I don’t understand is their choice to publicise it. This is the kind of bet that they should’ve kept a dirty little secret, visible only to those who know how to explore the obscure depths of their website.

For whatever reason, right or wrong, they chose to offer odds on something that would likely appeal to gamblers. But, given that the wider audience would consider it to be way off-key, there was absolutely no right reason to serve that wager up to the general public – it should’ve been obvious that it’d cause an outrage.

Since the scandal broke, a petition has been set up, urging Paddy Power to cease bets on the trial and make a donation to a women’s charity. Started it around midday on 2 March, it’s gathered over 118,500 signatures at the time of writing – after 60 hours. That’s almost 2000 signatures per hour, and that’s the kind of public opinion that no PR campaign ever wants to attract.

I’m starting to wonder if Paddy Power thinks ‘PR’ stands for ‘Public Reactions’.

Amazingly, Paddy Power appear to have have remained utterly silent on social media about the whole thing, even apparently blocking a twitter account which supports abuse victims. In my view, ignoring the problem is the worst thing they could possibly do. They need to wake up, smell the outrage that’s relentlessly unfolding over them, and fix it. They’ve already tainted all the great work that they’ve pulled off in the last few years, and they need to act fast to avoid tainting their reputation as a business, possibly forever.


The ASA ruled that the advert was offensive and ordered Paddy Power to remove it. Obviously.

tl;dr – Paddy Power have offered a refund on the Oscar Pistorius verdict ‘if he walks’. Now they’re getting trampled by the internet, and definitely ending their run of great PR stunts.