Nobody has ever given me a nickname, so you may as well call me Chris Waters.
I am co-founder, copywriter and part-time accountant at Condiment, a fabulous creative agency in Ipswich.
A typewriter doesn’t make you technophobe.
A deerstalker doesn’t make you a hunter.
A personality doesn’t make you a personality.
A white cat doesn’t make you a Bond villain.
A stupid idea doesn’t make you stupid – it just might make you original though.
Free samples are as old as the direct marketing hills.
When I was younger, I remember getting lots of free samples of Wash & Go delivered to our house. Maybe someone thought my hair could do with a few more washes.
Those free samples worked – big, proper bottles of Wash & Go could often be found in the Waters bathroom a few weeks later.
Free samples are still alive and well. Even in the digital world. Introducing Books offers free samples on its website, giving people the opportunity to see the unique style of their books before buying.
Free samples were even available at Latitude festival. Müller (those lick the lid of life people) had a special tent where, every morning, they gave away free yoghurts, corners, rice and those probiotic thingymajigs.
I liked this for two reasons:
1. They were kind enough to give away free food to hungry, hungover people.
2. In a world where financial departments demand hard evidence of ROI, this was a refreshing change. There’s no possible way they could measure ROI or ‘brand engagement’ or any other nauseating marketing term. But they still did it. They still thought it would bring a smile to people’s faces. And genuinely believed that us folk would repay this gesture by purchasing their products on a regular basis (otherwise why do it?).
The thing I really like about free samples is their faith in the product. I love the try-this-once-and-you-will-fucking-love-it attitude. The unwavering belief that one shot at the title is all the little fucker needs to worm its way in your life forever. Free samples cry out: we are a product, and we’re not shit.
* * *
Halfway through writing this post, the topic came up at work. Could we, an agency, give free samples to prove what a brilliant job we could do given the chance?
I’m not so sure. Yoghurts have pots and lids and are full of cream and fruit and stuff. It is a yoghurt or it isn’t. (That’s a sentence I never imagined writing.) If you like the yoghurt free sample, you buy another yoghurt full price. Creativity is subjective. And you’re only as good as your last effort. Yoghurts can rest on their laurels for years.
Born To Run at Latitude 2009
Just returned from Latitude Festival. Feel like utter shit, smell even worse. Not to worry. A very good, cider-sodden time was had by all.
Here’s my round up of the festival.
“This is a new song, so go for a piss.”
Thom Yorke understands that a big, early afternoon crowd would rather hear Fake Plastic Trees. Shame the miserable sod didn’t oblige.
“I think you’ll find mercury is only poisonous in its ionic form.”
Comedian Stephen K. Amos gets the most bizarre heckle of his career when discussing the use of mercury in dentistry.
“We don’t cuss on our records. My mom won’t allow it.”
Brian Fallon of The Gaslight Anthem (if Bruce recommends them, you listen to them) takes the lead in the Nice, Warm and Funny Front Man of the Festival competition.
“I’m going to take part in some food escapement.”
My good friend Jamie heads to the festival toilets for that scary first poo.
“If your parents brought you to this show, your parents are cunts.”
Phil Nichol points out that his show has been rated 15 by the Latitude authorities. And in doing so, wins the award for Greatest Opening Line Ever.
“Fuck you, Natasha Kaplinsky.”
Watching Robin Ince have a breakdown on stage wasn’t comfortable viewing. Especially if you happened to be Natasha’s mum. Memorable, though.
“Come on, you bumders!”
Because even at a frightfully middle class festival, you can’t have enough of The Inbetweeners’ toilet humour. Thanks, Brett.
“Next on stage is Chris Waters singing Born To Run.”
Drinking excessively and then ending up at a tent where the entertainment is karaoke with a live band was only ever going to end one way. Needless to say, I was brilliant. Clarkey woke up the following morning with the souvenir photo that you see above. We’ve still no idea how we ended up with it.
But the bits we do remember… well, they were bloody good. Thanks, Latitude.