4. Squirrel: 'The Supremacy of Marketing pt 3' First published in The Business Magazine

Agent Squirrel: The Tyranny of Sameness from the ‘The Supremacy of Marketing ’

He woke with a start – and effortlessly and silently in one movement slid out of the bed and was upright, gathering the ball point pen off the table by the side of the bed as he did.

The Aberdeen hotel room was actually quite plush and the drapes on the window would have been a good inhibitor of the available light – even at 2.30am – but Squirrel rarely slept with the curtains fully closed. This allowed the Business Intelligence specialist to just make out the shadow of a person in the darkest corner of the room…also the scattered female underwear that littered the floor like so many fallen leaves in autumn.

‘Looks like the night after the night before an Ann Summers party’ said the voice of the shadow.

‘I prefer Agent Provocateur’ replied the calm as a lightly chilled cucumber Squirrel, ‘and why can’t you just knock the door like everyone else?’

The shadow considered this concept for a few seconds as Squirrel padded off to the bathroom, ‘just wouldn’t fit with the Institutes protocol’ the shadow called after Squirrel closed the door.

Upon his return the shadow had turned the desk lamp on and was busying making a cup of tea. ‘Preacher’ had been Squirrels handler for too many years to remember and was the conduit between the agent and the Institute – although as a disavowed agent no one was supposed to know that Squirrel was still involved – a sort of under cover, undercover marketing agent.

Preacher was a learned man, he looked like one too Squirrel always thought – although the soft exterior gave little away of his inner capabilities. He was a multi linguist (of course) and was known to stand on one leg and play the flute…just like Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull – Squirrel had never seen this spectacle…for which he was thankful, he also had the ear of the director and one or two interesting government types…the preacher and not Jethro Tull.

‘What time are they picking you up?’ asked Preacher.

‘8.30, rear entrance - they want me to go with them to the US office…Washington…later today’, replied Squirrel in a flat monotone befitting 2.30am.

Preacher looked over the top of his metal-rimmed specs, ‘sounds like something’s going down in the world of lingerie’, he said without a hint of comedy timing which was slightly disappointing given the line, ‘you had better tell me what you know so far about your friend Star and her taste in foundation garments’.

‘Well it’s like this’, began Squirrel, ‘ here we have a company – for all intents and purposes a lingerie firm, who claim to sell their garments over the web, but the office that I was taken to was completely devoid of underwear and as far as I could see there were few if any staff engaged with sales’.

‘Could be that they have a warehouse elsewhere?’ suggested Preacher.

‘Using a fulfilment company for stock holding and packaging is a sound idea, especially if your core expertise lie in other directions, it cuts down on the overheads and packaging costs…but I’m not convinced of their core expertise – even on the internet you need to make yourself visible…’ tailed off Squirrel.

Preacher had by now picked up a discarded lacy item from the floor, ‘looks like expensive stuff too – difficult to move on the net when everyone is in a race to the bottom…excuse the pun’ he said.

‘That’s the thing’ mused Squirrel, ‘these samples they left me’, he looked up to find a doubtful look on Preacher’s face ‘they are very good quality – now quality can and does sell on the net – no reason why not – just a matter of presentation, if you like the quality of the shop front…but this lot – none had a label of manufacture and so no authenticity or differentiation for the supposed customer’.

‘You mean that people like to know where things have come from as it adds a value to the shopping experience…that sort of thing?’ questioned Preacher.

‘Spot on…and another thing – the coffee boy in the office: he’s a West Point graduate’ announced Squirrel. Preacher knew instantly that this was not traditionally the sort of occupation that a past student of the US elite military academy fell into upon leaving the employ of the government. Preacher drank his tea and made his exit…this time through the door, ‘I’ll do some digging, I have some friends in Langley – see if they can ident a cross dressing marine’.

‘I didn’t say that he was a cross dresser’, called Squirrel at Preacher
as he made his way down the corridor. The conversation had evidently roused the occupant of the room opposite, a rigger on shore leave by the looks of the ‘love and hate’ tattoos on his knuckles as he filled in his room doorframe annoyed at intrusion to his sleep. He looked at Squirrel, then the departing shadowy figure and the scattered lingerie on the floor of the room opposite and with a withering look on his face muttered ‘cross dressers’ and slammed his door.

8.30 sharp the RS4 Audi appeared at the rear entrance, as did the two front seat occupants. First out was the ex marine, Squirrel noted that today he was wearing black for a change…but thought better of saying it! On the other hand Star, wore a grey velvet vintage Charlotte Halton mini dress with matching black leather stiletto boots – which meant that getting out from behind the wheel of an RS4 was more an act of escapology than exit from a vehicle…nice though the sight was!

They approached Squirrel – a little too hastily he thought, but perhaps Star could mind read! The ex marine had grasped Squirrel’s left elbow and was applying a little too much pressure on the ball of nerve endings that can be found there…if you know where to look…and was steering him towards the back door of the Audi.

‘Hey why the rush!’ asked Squirrel intuitively sensing danger.

‘Sorry about this’, replied Star in her soft French Canadian accent ‘ but we think you have something we need and we really can’t take no for an answer’.

‘Better try this for an answer then…’ said Squirrel as he slammed his heel into the soft and painful front of the marine’s left ankle, he lost his balance and as he did so Squirrel brought his now free elbow up to meet the falling bodyguard’s ear – causing instant pain and further unsteadiness – he began to fall forward semi-unconscious and as he did so Squirrel jabbed a hand at his opponent’s lower rib cage, as it passed his waist, breaking at least two in the process – all of which took no more than a few seconds.

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of the safety catch coming off a Canadian Para Black Watch .45 pistol.

Turning to face the now armed and extremely seductive Star, Squirrel thought ‘where had she hidden that?’ but asked simply: ‘marine’?

‘No’ she said slowly ‘I’m commando – now get in the car’.

To be continued…

3. Squirrel 3 - ' The Supremacy Marketing pt 2'

The journey to the non descript office black at Altens took no time at all, the tone of the Audi V8 was the automotive equivalent of a Cadbury flake advert from the not so PC 80’s – Star had cut through the ring road hatch back and rep mobile flotsam with the skill of a touring car champion, except this champion was wearing 6ich stiletto heals…this could be an interesting day thought Squirrel.

The office was one of those shared and serviced varieties. The block could have been anywhere, any town, any state,– a sort of grey concrete with tinted grey windows and grey metal doors. Altens is one of those places, always on the outskirts of a city someplace, always near a ring road and always populated by fast food ‘drive throu’s’ and featureless express hotels in a state of sameness the world over.

‘just out of interest’ said Squirrel, ‘is the receptionists name Grey?’

Star looked somewhat puzzled at such a suggestion, her sideways glance momentarily took her eyes off the task of parking the RS at, what Squirrel thought, was an unhealthy speed. The antilock braking system, by now, working very hard to cease the forward motion of Vorsprung durch Technik.

‘so, you have been to Aberdeen before’, Star stated without once looking at the proximity of the other vehicles within near accident distance of the now stationary Audi.

‘No’ he lied, in his game it paid to be selective with the truth about movements and people, ‘According to the poster at the airport this is Europe’s oil capital, and so it strikes me that this is a funny place to set up a lingerie firm’.

‘We trade internationally, Squirrel’, dismissed Star, ‘that’s the beauty of the Internet. No barriers, level playing field, everywhere accessible at the click of a mouse and the lick of a stamp’. Star expressed this last comment with a practiced air – it sounded like a strap line to an advertisement or a well-rehearsed comment made during a corporate death by power-point presentation.

Squirrel extracted himself from the clutches or was it caress of the Audi, gathered his bag and followed Star into the building. She walked with the ease and seduction of a cat walk model her body swaying gently as she moved upon three pivot points: shoulders, hips and ankles, the stiletto heals presenting a self administrated impediment to accelerated movement, for which Squirrel at that moment was quite thankful. Star ushered Squirrel into the building and then unhurriedly into an office on the first floor, after she had elegantly ascended the staircase.

By the time he had ensconced himself into the leather of the tub office chair he felt as if he had been drizzled in treacle and wrapped in cotton wool – something, he thought, is not quite right here, although he knew a club in Hamburg where such a service could be provided at a small extra cost…and all in the name of customer service!

‘coffee?’ she asked as she positioned herself behind a large and glass toped desk.
‘is it instant?’ Squirrel enquired with the air of a poker player raising the stake at a winner take all late night game. He had an aversion to instant coffee; to him it was like calling cream soda, Champaign, mind you with the ever growing Starbuckisation of society perhaps even the days of quality coffee were numbered. He had been in New York recently and noticed that apartments were now being sold on the basis of their close proximity to coffee stores – how close you’re nearest caffeine fix, who needs off road parking.

‘I’m disappointed you have to ask’, replied Star, ‘but in answer to the question…it’s Columbian arabica.’, she turned and remover her long coat to reveal a black top and silk pencil skirt combination: the outfit was quality and probably Heaven and Earth thought Squirrel…and this side of a glass top desk it looked like heaven.

The décor in the office was minimalist and chic, white walls, grey carpet, abstract poster art in the style of Steez on the wall and the ubiquitous vertical blind to shade the sun. What struck Squirrel was the complete absence of lingerie, no frills, no spills no how do they pay the bills anywhere to be seen. She had caught his visual audit of the space as she spoke to a person charged with coffee making duties some distance off. She replaced the handset, without taking her eyes off him – and did so a little too slowly for his liking.

‘you’re a fan of Steez, Squirrel?’,

‘Not especially, although The Kiss has some artistic merit I think, the spray paint and graffiti reminds me too much of the inner city and a rather delightful subway back in Wales’, although as he now thought about it – that very subway had become a backdrop for an episode of Dr Who, you never know perhaps it would make the Dr Who location tour sometime later this millennium…perhaps not.

‘I couldn’t help but notice that there is a distinct lack of underwear in this room’, deliberately changing the direction of the conversation and as he did so, he noticed a flicker of subconscious recognition cross Stars face, ‘given that you are a purveyor of such things I thought that you may have some of the samples…well…on display, framed up as art, break the mould create the value – if you’ve got it flaunt it’.

‘We sell via the internet, not from the office’, replied Star, her voice showing signs of tension, as if he had temporarily spoiled her game, but he had a sureness that normal service would soon be resumed on that front.

‘That’s all well and good, but what about the people in the office, they need to have a constant reminder of the business they are in, the quality of the offering and the physicality of the goods – it comes across in the way they speak to people in emails and on the ‘phone…I’ve looked at your site and you make recommendations for products…these must be authentic – otherwise people will see through the hype and Google someone else’s knickers’.

She blinked and blinked again in quick succession; ‘so even though we may never meet the customer and only ever communicate at a distance we should all have personal experience of the product portfolio in order to authenticate the value?’ the question was uttered more as an audible thought than a reply and uttered very slowly.
‘yes’ said Squirrel, ‘if you were selling coffee, how could you describe with any passion what that coffee was like and how could you treat it with care if you had never experience the java jive?’,

‘I see your point’ said Star.

At that moment and as if summoned by the mention of coffee, coffee arrived – the tray being delivered by a tall, athletically built male, in his mid thirties and to Squirrels trained eye more able to take care of people in ways less accommodating than by offering them a cup of coffee. He passed a cup to Squirrel and in doing so exposed for a fraction of a second the face of the gold ring that he had on his right hand little finger. Squirrel knew it’s significance instantly – it was a West Point class ring.

‘Thank you’, said Squirrel, to the crew cut topped, lightly tanned face an arms length away.

‘ You’re welcome, Sir’, came the reply in a thinly disguised Upper East Side accent.

As Squirrel contemplated the coffee, the glass toped desk and the lack of underwear, he just couldn’t help but think: something was not quite right here…

To be continued…

2: Squirrel – The life and times of a Business Intelligence Agent.The Business 01.08

The beginning of the year is a time for taking stock, making plans and eating the boxes of biscuits let over from Christmas. So I reflect…we have been through a lot you and I, I have been writing this column since the very first edition and collectively we have won some nice awards for the trophy cabinet and a few industry accolades…but perhaps this year it’s time for a change?

So allow me to indulge myself for a while.

The Business has always set out to be something a little bit different from ‘other’ business magazines…perhaps a little alternative? So this year I will occasionally serialise extracts from what yet may be my next book: ‘The Supremacy of Marketing’– it is based upon the principle that most ‘text’ books about business are, to be honest, as dry as a dusty place without a Dyson…no sex or violence and very few laughs!

So an introduction - this is a story about a Business Intelligence operative named: Squirrel.

'The Supremacy of Marketing'

It was a midwinter’s day, the sort of day where the weather hovers between fog, rain, snow and frost; indecisive, indifferent and inconvenient, yes inconvenient as a choice of coat would always be a lottery on such a day. The choice of coat, however, had not been a worry to the figure jogging silently through the woods lost in thought and yet alert to the subtle changes in the shadows of the perfectly planted pines that edged the path and dictated the runner’s destination.

Squirrel was dressed in his customary black running gear: he had once answered an acquaintance who had enquired as to the need for black, with the reply: ‘it’s off black – sort of grey…acts as a camouflage when I’m out in the woods’. Pulled tight around his ears was an ‘off black’ military style skull cap, under which the slightest of glimpses of ginger hair could be seen. He enjoyed the solitude of the woods, a place to think, only occasionally interrupted when he would startle a walker or someone walking a dog…they just couldn’t hear him coming. He had always had a strange attraction towards woods.

He was running and thinking…not by way of demonstrating, contrary to popular belief, that men can multitask: but because he was mentally reflecting on the brief that his current client had tasked him with. This was one of those clients that it was hard to say no to in fact you probably would not want to say no to! The brief had been given to Squirrel by his handler ‘Preacher’, on a bench overlooking ‘little Switzerland’, several weeks before and the same ‘Preacher’ had made the arrangements for a meet.

In the world of Business Intelligence, certainly at the level that Squirrel operated, clandestine and global, an agent needed a handler. The handler acted, as a conduit for organisations that had market development issues, but for sensitive commercial reasons did not want to be seen to have called in the consultants – ‘insultants’ Squirrel called them – on account that far too many were poorly trained and quite unaware of the dangers that they were putting people in. Good ones were hard to find and were acknowledged specialists who had been field agents for a long time…and the very good ones never advertised the fact.

The meet had been arranged by Preacher…in Aberdeen. ‘Aberdeen!’ exclaimed Squirrel at the time… ‘Why Aberdeen?’

‘Our contact has retail interests in Scotland and let’s be honest any further East and you’ll be in Stavanger…that’s in Norway, Squirrel’, explained Preacher, in what Squirrel thought was excessive geographic precision, give or take a few North Sea oil fields, ‘and’ continued Preacher ‘no one knows your face in Aberdeen’, Nor for that matter any other part of me, amused Squirrel.

‘What’s the problem?’ Squirrel asked

‘Well’ began Preacher, ‘the contact has a small chain of retail stores and also has an on line offering – trouble is that sales are falling and the web site just isn’t delivering, add to that the fact that the accountants are unhappy and the bank manager insist on weekly meetings…it could be a tough nut to crack’

‘and I’m the man for a nut…tough or otherwise’ replied Squirrel, without a hint of irony, which was ironic. ‘what type of business?’

‘Lingerie – up market female underwear’, Preacher detailed

‘I know what lingerie is’, snapped Squirrel, recounting in his mind a recent encounter with a Spanish Basque or was that a Basque made in Spain? ‘ So in essence, just to clarify’, Squirrel began in order to clarify the situation, ‘ this is a complicated brief about knickers with hard nuts’, He paused for effect, ‘sounds more like a medical issue than a commercial one’,

Preacher was less than amused with Squirrels summation,‘ here are the details’, he muttered, passing a brown A4 envelope to Squirrel, before standing and walking away without further comment, several seconds later he turned to issue a final command to Squirrel, ‘the contact’s name is Star’ he said to a now empty bench, save for the empty shell of a hazelnut.

The flight from Bristol to Aberdeen had taken just under two hours, the Jetsteam 41 offering superb early morning views of the snow capped Cairngorms on its long decent into Aberdeen. Squirrel had spent the flight alternating between three thoughts: why had the business suited man in front of him taken so long to complete the Times Sudoko?, creating life scenarios for the other 28 passengers on the flight , based on what they were wearing (this was a short lived pastime as all bar one of the passengers were men and judging by the conversation, clothing and complexion the majority worked on a rig 120 miles off shore), and musing about what would happen if one of the blades of the propeller, now a blur just outside the window, were to break free, if you were lucky, he thought you would have a crash course in free fall – the only sport in the world where you will never learn from a mistake!

Aberdeen airport is the busiest airport in the world…well for helicopters, as he stepped down from the plane and was re associating himself with his artic parker (the plane being so bijou that wearing a coat and sitting in a seat were not compatible concepts) he eyed a long line of oversized wasps coming in to land from the North East, the majority in the red, white and blue of the Bristow fleet.

Squirrel had no difficulty in identifying the contact, in an arrivals area full of boots, beards and quilted shirts: a tall, spiky blonde, slim and elegantly dressed siren stood out like the only gift under the Christmas tree during a retail recession as she visually interrogated the arrivals board. As he approached her Squirrel could not but wonder what was being worn under the long black (or was that dark grey) fur coat, given that she obviously travelled in lingerie.

‘Squirrel’ he said as he stood alongside her and followed her stare toward the arrivals screen, ‘I hear you have a problem in the underwear department’.

Without changing the direction of her sight line, she unhurriedly replied: ‘you come highly recommended Mr Squirrel’, slowly turning to face him during the last few syllables of the sentence; uttered, unmistakeably in the unique accent of a French Canadian.

‘Just Squirrel’ replied Squirrel, in middle-Monmouthshire monotone, without the need for further comment she led the way to the silver Audi RS4 conveniently parked on yellow lines behind the concrete anti terrorist barriers…one day this will make a good book thought Squirrel…

To be continued…


Jonathan H Deacon wears red socks and helps create the businesses of tomorrow at the Newport Business School

1: Squirrel - 'A licence to brand' - Business in Wales 10.07

‘A licence to brand’

Phil Kay was a down at heal, not so cool, private eye – a life in US corporate marketing had taken its toll – he was cynical, worn down, balding and not convinced that a career move to industrial espionage was actually for him…but the life-coach lady (kindly paid for by HR) had said that the change would be good for him so…

His government client had asked him to dig some dirt on re-branding and come up with a plan that would take the opposition by surprise. It was late…very late, the city was dark and brooding and now he came to think about it: wet. He had thought about bringing the golf umbrella from the car but thought better of it as it was adorned with the name of a condo in ‘Vegas and well it would have looked out of place. He was a stranger to this city – he’d heard about it of course… the famous café quarter (where he was now) but had made a mental note to avoid a place called Queen street – where he came from this sounded like trouble.

The contact was to meet him at a bar where brains would be brewed and sold – he made another mental note: weird place Cardiff! Even at this hour the bar was busy – he took his coke to the quietest table – shook off his coat and slouched into a seat, staring at his wet West Coast loafers, now an amusing two-tone colour due to the light rain. He was quite unaware of the body that had sat silently down next to him until…

‘Psst! – WM sent me’

Phil jump started back into the bar – he looked at the stranger with a questioning look on his face.

‘The name’s: Squirrel’ said the stranger.

Phil replied: ‘not: Squirrel, James Squirrel?’

‘No’, said Squirrel, ‘just Squirrel – licensed to re-brand’

Later, during his de-brief back in Havelock Street, the red headed agent ‘Squirrel’ would recall this exchange and comment that Phil Kay had either spent too much time in the corporate marketing rat race or watched too many in-flight films!

‘Oh, pleased you could meet me’ said Phil, ‘ I need to know a few things about re-branding…but…’ his voice was no more than a faint whisper as he leaned over towards Squirrel, ‘I need to know what to do to future proof branding for a smaller firm’. This last statement was accompanied with the furtive look of a bloke buying a top shelf magazine in a corner shop full of WI members. He was obviously uncomfortable talking about future proofing and small firms…well ‘that’s text book marketing for you’ thought Squirrel.

‘Listen carefully’, said Squirrel, ‘I shall say this only once’ (which sounded faintly familiar) ‘And if you tell anyone that I told you this stuff…I’ll bury more than your nuts!’

‘Is that why they call you Squirrel’ said a pale looking Phil.

Squirrel shot Phil a withering look that was all the answer he needed, this was one squirrel you didn’t mess with thought Phil.

What followed in the next ten minutes would stay with Phil for the rest of his days as it all made sense and he began to question the years of corporate game playing that he had done all in the name of market development…

‘The first thing to remember’ said Squirrel ‘is that what happened to the Royal Mail still ranks as the worst re-branding exercise anyone has ever done. They lost the plot completely – on the first hand why change a name that customers and consumers have known for generations and on the other just changing a name is not fundamentally re-branding’.

‘What do you mean it’s not re-branding’ spluttered a shocked Phil,

‘Well it’s much deeper than just playing around with names and of course: logos, no branding and therefore re-branding is personal, a brand must have integrity, it must be memorable, its got to stand for something in the customer’s life…tell a story and above all it’s about emotion. Actually the really scary bit for most firms is that branding is more about what happens internally than externally and probably why most small firms are quite good at the emotional development bit – the passion for their business.’

‘Ill explain a little more’, Squirrel hurriedly but calmly continued, ‘if you had the cash, you could, without question afford to commission the very best design agency to design an outstanding and probably award winning logo, brand mark and brand name – skilfully presented in all the right colours and type face and when combined with some media planning you could get your new ‘brand’ in front of lots of people…but would it ‘mean’ anything? You see for a brand to have meaning it’s got to have some emotional attachment for the end user and that meaning is developed in a different place to all the graphic stuff…important though that is later on’.

‘So are you saying that branding is more about’, glancing round the bar to make sure that they were not being overheard, ‘ the experience’ than the function’, asked Phil,

‘Yes – a brand comes into being when the expectations of the brand matches the experience the customer has of the brand – when there are no disappointments and doubts’.

We live in a ‘post scarcity’ world – in reality we have so much brand choice that the only commodity that we should be concerned about is that of attention – because that’s the most valuable thing a customer can now give us and our brand has got to be worthy of that commodity.

To do that the brand has to connect with the consumer and increasingly they want brands that are authentic and real as opposed to fantasy creations … the real beauty campaign by Dove is a good example of an authentic brand that connects with customers…in that case real everyday women.

The trick is to develop that high quality brand experience and it’s one that customers will pay a premium for…because it connects emotionally. There are a ‘tribe’ of people out there called ‘transumers’ – these people are more switched on by the experience rather than the ownership of brands…they pay into things like ‘car clubs’ where they can ‘borrow’ a high end sports car for a day or two and enjoy the experience without all the hassle of ownership – and the next time they want one they can take out a different car…a different experience, a different story to tell’

‘But I thought ownership was a key factor of all this brand stuff…’ muttered Phil,

‘It was…until we entered the post-material twenty first century world we are in now: now the best brands help customers tell stories and shape their identities – for consumers, sharing their stories with their friends, their family, their neighbours, their colleagues, is the experience, is the value…is the brand’.

But such an experience must be authentic – the firm has to believe in it too – they also have to have an emotional attachment. When this happens the demarcation between supplier and buyer becomes blurred as everyone involved creates the value…’

‘That’s heavy’ said Phil remembering the words of his ‘client’ at the briefing two floors below the office block on the corner of Navy and Fern in DC, when he was told that he was going to: a small and clever country.

‘But the better future proofed brands will go one step further’, persisted Squirrel ‘they will not only connect with the customer but they will also enable the customers to connect with each other by creating on line social networking experiences … and thus become an integral part of the tribe. Such networks will be a place where stories can be exchanged and value created –future brand winners will live or die on the basis of the stories told and understand that it is the stories that are of value not the products or services they offer’.

‘You ever been involved with one of these units?’ probed a now alert Phil.

Squirrel visually interrogated him before giving an answer: ‘Well take my last project: code name ‘Virgin’ – they know what value is and how to create an emotional attachment to their brand, from the top down there is a passion about the experience and it comes from within – and they can operate in many markets because it’s not the product that matters but the story told – their brand has become in the eyes of their customer a ‘love mark’…’Squirrel tailed off.

Even though the bar was busy Squirrel had been aware of a tall, grey figure entering the bar, the male wore a long grey fur coat, which to the trained eye concealed a loaded copy of ‘an introduction to marketing’, which as Squirrel knew all too well could be lethal in the wrong hands.

Phil had followed Squirrel’s gaze and was asking the now empty seat beside him if this was character was trouble…he had made no sound as he disappeared into the crowded bar…but had left his calling card as authentication: the two halves of an empty hazelnut.

Jonathan H Deacon wears red socks and helps create the brands of tomorrow at the Newport Business School

Agent Squirrel - the first!

I think this is where it all started...well this and a drink or two in a Belfast bar with some fellow academics...the concept? Well more of a question was asked by all of those sat around the table: why are business text books so bloody boring? Where is the gratuitous violence, the sex, the comedy of real business and lets be honest more people will read a Lee Child or Suzanne Portnoy than pick up a business book.

Now that's probably got you logging on to Amazon to check those out...so I'll just go and have a coffee (black, Colombian, aribica, south side!)...

OK - so you can see the type of stuff that I occasionally read :-)! Please add your favourites to the comments...

Meanwhile back at the ranch - Squirrel was borne out of this meeting of business text agent provocateurs in a Belfast bar, late at night and fuelled by Beer and chocolate cake. The first commission was the one above (I think - layout not my strong point!) for the Western Mail- it caught the imagination of readers and has gone on to become a serialised column in several business magazines including the award winning 'The Business'. In part I have to thank Jo Barnes for the encouragement and of course the many thousands of people who read and then comment on Squirrels adventures.

The fun part for many is to spot the references to people and places and of course brands. Much of what Squirrel experiences is drawn from my own experiences, scrapes and escapes...

Welcome

OK - so here it is...the start!

As I have mentioned in my profile box - this blog really is a way for those who I meet and chat with to keep in touch - especially the people who sit in the lectures and talks that I give around the globe and want to keep up to date with Agent Squirrel!

If however you have stumbled across this blog whilst looking for: cheep airline tickets, the latest sports news or photos of naked people (delete where necessary) then you deserve to know a bit about me...yes you do!

I'm an academic (there I've admitted it!) and I major in the fields of small business marketing and entrepreneurship - occasionally on this blog I'll link to my latest academic publications or conferences that may be of ongoing interest to anyone with a small business. I hold a number of chairmanships within the academic world and as of 2008 I am the chair of the Chartered Institute of Marketing in Wales. My PhD is in applied linguistics...but more of that sometime later.

My views on marketing are well known in that to me there is an awful lot of nonsense written in text books on the subject...but hey it sells books - right? To me marketing is about people and not processes and its also in total flux - so don't try to tie it down, define or control it! I guess you'll get the idea as this space rolls along.

What else? I started my own enterprise when I was about 16 (music business) and built up a specialist retail business before moving to consultancy. But all that was some time ago...I came to the university of Wales as a mature student in the mid 90's and decided to stay! I still have a number of business interests in Wales and must be one of the few business school academics that have: been there, done it, written the book and got the 'T' shirt!

OK - that'll do to start - as the Ramones once said: This is rock and roll radio...stay tuned for more rock and roll!

Many thanks to my good friend Dr Andre Walton for the Chicago pic you see above.