BREXILE: A tale of two ferries

 

I stuck my head in the sand as far as my looming Brexile project goes over Christmas and New Year. Well, that’s not quite true. There wasn’t much sand about, and instead of an exotic holiday on a warm sandy beach, I decided to see in a New Year in my Old Home and party like it’s 1999. Turned out it was more like 1979, even better, but that’s another story.

Choosing ferries was important as it would set the tone for what’s going to be a frequent commute this year. I note that, mid-Covid, I was bright and breezy and optimistic about the future of travel. 

If only.

That was before P&O fell in a lamentable mess out of my consideration set (I do actually have one of these fabled constructs for ferries) as a result of their shocking treatment of staff. But maybe because it was near Christmas and I was feeling peace-and-goodwill-to-all-ferry-operators, I decided to give them another chance.

The pre-sailing email didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but it was too late to change things by that point.

I can’t abide the expression “grab” - which P&O (or their AI copywriter) see fit to use every other sentence. I would have hoped that Mr Trump’s use of the word in connection with female anatomy might have put writers off using it. Regrettably not.

It was even worse than feared - I don’t like getting all hoity-toity-Karen and threatening with eternal damnation on Trip Advisor, but sometimes you just have to vent forth. I regurgitated much of the review above when P&O sent me one of their badly-constructed surveys.

Just when I thought it was all over, I got this email. If you can make any sense of it, well done you:

A glutton for punishment, I clicked in an idle fashion into their website and wasn’t too surprised to find one of Germany’s most famous landmarks has moved a few hundred km north west to Frankfurt. Ho hum.

What do I take out of all this about the brand P&O?

Easy. They don’t give a seagull’s shit about customers, service or accuracy.

The tale does have a happy end as I’d booked the return ferry with DFDS.

Now, that’s what I call a ferry service!

RETROWURST: Crisps & Snacks January 2007

This is a good one for January, where I’m sure I’m not the only one feeling a touch bloated and in need of some serious exercise in the fresh air. In the UK, I was addicted to crisps from an early age, and used to sneak off to spend my dinner money on crunchy snacks instead of Spam fritters. Probably healthier, actually.

One piece of evidence for my Teutonisation is that I really don’t eat so many crisps now. Certainly not the kgs mentioned in this Extrawurst from January 2007. In fact, I’m beginnng to develop a distaste for the nibbles/picky bits/grab bags/finger food/grazing business, although that could be because the words are so ghastly. 

Here’s the state of play in the world of crisps and snacks eighteen years ago ...

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Did you know that the Brits eat, on average, more than five times as many potato crisps per year as the Germans? The UK leads potato crisp consumption in Europe with an amazing 3 ½ kg per head per year, while Germans consume a mere 700g per head per year, one of the lowest consumption levels in Europe. In fact, only the Italians are less enthusiastic about crisps, with a consumption level of 600g per head per year.

 

Pondering on the reasons for the difference, I came up with the following factors. First of all, we should look at market development and history. Crisps have simply not been around for very long in Germany, relatively speaking. There is quite an interesting story behind their introduction to Germany which goes that a German show jumper, Irmgard von Opel, was on holiday in the U.S with her husband Heinrich and son Carlo when she discovered potato chips and decided that they would sell well in her home country. In 1962, the family set up the first production of Chio Chips, the brand name coming from the initials of the first names of the family. In 1968, another brand, Chipsfrisch, which would become the brand leader, was launched.

 

If one looks at the market for crisps here, it is relatively underdeveloped in terms of varieties, product forms, pack sizes and distribution outlets. Typically, crisps come in a large (175 g) pack size and the range of flavours is limited. The biggest seller is Ungarisch, which is a sort of Paprika flavour, followed by plain salted. Other flavours such as Pepperoni or Chinese are available, or even our beloved Salt & Vinegar, but these are reported to be successful only in cosmopolitan, city areas.

 

I have mentioned that distribution is more limited here in Germany. Crisps are not nearly as ubiquitous here as in the UK, where they can be found in school lunchboxes through to pubs. Neither of these places would harbour crisps in Germany, for reasons I’ll come on to! Instead, crisps are confined to the supermarket and perhaps the petrol station. Related to the ubiquity of crisps in terms of where you can buy them, habits are very different in terms of where and when you eat crisps. Crisps are really only eaten in the evening, in front of the TV. There is some use at parties but not to the extent seen at the UK and crisps tend to be consumed more in private at-home situations.

 

A lot of this has to do with a certain difference in food culture. In Germany, there is far less of the “snacks and nibbles” mentality than one gets in the UK. A party of any kind without proper food supplied by the host is frowned on and the idea of any kind of “nibbles” before a dinner party would be thought of as disrespectful to the food that is to come. One could say that there is a far less “playful” attitude to food, which is where crisps miss out. Although German food can tend toward the heavy and stodgy, there is an innate belief in proper, natural, unprocessed food. In this sense, although there is no Jamie Oliver watching over children’s lunchbox content, few German mothers would dream of putting anything other than a cheese or meat sandwich and fruit in their child’s lunch box. And anyway, the huge packets of crisps here simply aren’t designed for little hands.

 

But before you all start thinking that the weird Germans are totally missing out on the idea of something salty and crunchy to go with their Bier, we must remember the Salzstange or Brezel. Perhaps one of the reasons that crisps didn’t catch on was that their place was already occupied by pretzels. If a German bar offers any savoury snacks at all, it is likely that they will be little salty sticks. And pretzels often pop up at children’s parties and even in lunchboxes, albeit with some of the over-zealous Muttis scraping the salt off first. Pretzels are even thought to have medicinal properties, with a diet of Coca-Cola and Salzstangen considered a worthy alternative to Imodium to combat “the runs”.

 

In terms of the brand landscape for savoury snacks in total, the three main players are the leader, Intersnack, who own the Funny-Frisch (www.funny-frisch.de ) and Chio (www.chio.de ) brands, Lorenz Bahlsen Snack World (kings of pretzels and nuts) and Stöver who produce a lot of Own Label. Growth in the “stacked” crisp area is also building Pringles into a major brand. 

 

The only other product forms of real note in the market are Tortilla Chips and dips and Erdnuss Flips or peanut puffs. Minor products include onion rings, “Hula Hoops”, “Chiplets”, shaped savoury biscuits and ribbed crisps.

 

There is relatively little innovation in the market, but what innovation there is focuses on the lower fat/ natural area, for example, “Naturals” from Lorenz. But I think the door is wide open for more innovation in the gourmet area and the health/well-being area for adults and children. However, I think pickled onion flavour Monster Munch probably wouldn’t be a winner.

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Oddly, this is a situation that hasn’t changed hugely. There’s been an increase in snack and crisp consumption here, up to around 1.5 kg pro annum, although I couldn’t find any good, reliable recent figures. On the other hand, the Brits are munching more than ever before, at about 4.5 kg per munchy mouth - the results of which are all too apparent in any shopping centre.

Pringles and its imitators has become quite a staple here and there have been developments in Kettle Crisps and snacks made from chickpeas and other vegetables. A few weird new flavours have cropped up (Chilli Cheese Fries - the thought makes me quite queasy).

But it’s still big bags and, as far as I know, not much sneaking its way into the children’s lunchboxes. 

BREXILE: I left my soul in SW19

 

     New Year’s Eve 1995/6

This where I get personal. 

Not much about brands or ads, but a lot of me-me-me. (I’m entitled, though, aren’t I?)

Next year’s big project will be clearing out and selling up. Going into Brexile officially. I’m dreading it, but perhaps it’ll be therapeutic to jot down my feelings and experiences so I can look back and laugh.

It’s also a chance to regurgitate some of my creative writing. This first piece was written in 2010, so 14 years ago, but also 14 years after my move here.

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I LEFT MY SOUL IN SW19

 

In March 1996, I jumped the great ship Britannia as she sailed towards the island of Cool. My one-way ticket cut through the Heathrow fog like a landing-light. Terminal 1 echoed with finality – no going back?

 

London still slept but my mind already marched to the beat of the Teutonic clock. My heart followed more than willingly, long lost in the mists of a fairytale.

 

Only my English soul stayed stubborn. 

 

Like my mishandled baggage, it was wrenched kicking and screaming from the conveyor belt at Frankfurt. 

 

The tear could not be repaired.

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Just. Slop. I mean Stop.

 

I’m not sure how many predictions reports I can bear to read this year, but I started with WFA as it seems mercifully short. 

Under the heading of “Back to Fundamentals. Again.” came this thought from a WFA member at a recent CMO forum in Toronto:

So many of us are looking at the same Gen AI tools that we’re all doing the same thing and expecting different outcomes.

Well, yes. Alongside using the same Growth Flywheel template, Customer Journey template and all the other formats, templates and other paint-by-numbers gubbins. 

The big brands started their “show and tell, we’ve been playing with AI” kick some time ago, but as a LinkedIn friend of mine pointed out no-one is interested any more. 

And now the butcher, baker and candlestick maker on the corner (and the local nail studio) will be getting in on the act. 

Welcome to the Slop-o-verse. The Multi-coloured Slop Shop.

Maybe for my own part, I should stop with the negative blog posts about this stuff and try and find something a touch more worthwhile.

If this is the future of advertising, I’m underwhelmed

 

This new commercial for Vodafone describes itself as “groundbreaking”. 

Was the YouTube description written by AI? Highly likely, as the film itself was completely produced by AI - text to picture, picture to video, video to video - with a little bit of human help sprinkled here and there by the director, client and creative teams involved.

As a film, it’s OK. AI is definitely capable of better quality film than it was a few months ago. There’s nothing too alarming or creepy about this ad - or, indeed, the Coca Cola Christmas ad this year.

But while there’s nothing too much wrong with it, there’s nothing too much right with it either, in my view. It’s yet another one of those diversity vignette films. The soundtrack, The Rhythm of the Night, is a dance hit from 1993.

And that’s what this ad feels like to me - 1993. Back then, in the agency, we’d often cobble together (well, that’s unfair, as it took a lot of time and skill in those days) “mood films”, sometimes in the form of a “manifesto.” The purpose was to bring the core of what the brand was about to life. It was more entertaining than a brand onion, and more likely to win you a place on a pitch shortlist.

What these things weren’t, however, is creative ideas. They were usually briefed in by a planner and their audience wasn’t Joe and Jane Public - it was the client, to flatter them a little about their wonderful brand.

And meanwhile, in the spirit of “Everybody’s Doing It”, the ghastly stock photos of people joining hands, staring excitedly at their laptops, putting pieces of fruit in front of their eyes or cradling a tender young shoot in the palm of their hands have been replaced with AI-generated monstrosities.

I’m working with a client in the energy sector at the moment, where the visions seem particularly nightmarish:

I do hope I see a little more originality next year!

Sources, proof-points, facts and references - and how they get in the way of a good story

 

A few years back, I had a little whinge about the Mr Gradgrinds of the world. Specifically, the instance on backing everything up with “facts," taking up time I could usefully spend on telling a compelling story.  

It strikes me that there’s even more demand for all this today. Maybe it’s because of the epidemic of high-profile people doctoring their CV, or their Doctorate Thesis. Or because Mr “Fake News” is heading back to the White House, or the unstoppable rise of AI. But I do find it wearying in the extreme.

There are some amusing incidents along the way, though. I signed up to one of those freelancer platforms and was asked to produce (and upload) some questionnaire from the German Finanzamt about and confirming my freelancer status. I told the person who’d asked for it that yes, I believe I did fill something like that in, but it would have been in 2002. And it would have been on paper. And I would have sent it by post. And no, I wouldn’t have kept a copy as I didn’t have a photocopier in my home at the time (not many people did). 

They would just have to take my word for it - which, luckily, they did. I suspect the woman who asked wasn’t even born in 2002 and was embarassed and bewildered by the whole thing.

Taking my word for it. When I write a presentation, or an article, it’s the bird building a nest syndome. There are bits and pieces - from stuff recently read, things I’ve learned, things I just know, intuitively, from long experience etc. etc. I can’t remember the source or reference for each bit because it’s not important. What’s important is the finished nest, where everything fits together in a lovely integral whole and you think - ah, yes!

In the end, it’s a matter of trust. As a whole, I don’t tend to make stuff up, or twist facts and figures to suit my argument (well, not too much). Sources, references and “proof-points” do tend to trip up the reader in the flow of the story, and there's little way of including them elegantly without the article ending up like the aforementioned Doctorate Thesis.

On the other hand, with this kind of howler coming out from an outfit the size of Microsoft, maybe those Mr Gradgrinds do have a point? 

Condiments of the season

 

The clocks have gone back, the feather duvets retrieved from the cellar and the beergarden afternoons definitely a memory of sunnier days. At the weekend, I experienced a last stand in miniature from a Bavarian speciality that I associate firmly with the dog days of summer through to the autumn jollity of the Oktoberfest.

At a birthday party, we were served canapés of Weißwurst, Salzpretzel and a dollop of Süßsenf. Rather like this:

Weißwurst is a delicacy that doesn’t have the immediate appeal to Brits of a Bratwurst. I remember meeting a UK colleague in Munich at around 11am and his stomach definitely turned when I ordered this particular snack and started tucking in. The sausage itself is made from veal (I’m not over-keen to find out which particular bits), pork fat, parsley and spices. The discarded sausage skin does look particularly unappealing. Traditionally, these sausages were made in the morning and butchers and restaurants were keen to get rid of them by mid-day. Again, I’d rather not ask too many questions as to why.

They are, however, delicious and there’s a certain charm in the way they are served, floating around in a terrine-type bowl with lion’s head handles and maybe a Bavarian flag pattern:

 

Now, you may have noticed that mini-terrine of brown stuff to the right. Once again, I’ll refrain from saying what this resembles, but it is Süßsenf - sweet mustard. The mustard seeds are roasted and the mustard is sweetened with sugar, apple purée or honey. The first commercial producer was Develey, who are still going strong today. But the market leader is the one pictured above - Händlmaier. 

Karl and Johanna Händlmaier opened their first butcher’s shop in Regensburg in 1910, and Johanna created the Süße Hausmachersenf  in 1914, to go with the sausages they sold to eat on the premises.  Son Joseph and his wife Luise took over the butchers’ shops after the 2nd WW, and it is Luise who turned these into a thriving mustard and condiments business after her husband’s death in 1955. She’s the lady depicted on the label, of course.

The website is full of Weißwurst wisdom, including the etiquette for eating the sausages. In typical German fashion, it’s less about “how do you eat yours?” and more about orderly steps and correct procedures. 

Whichever way, it’s fun to be writing about sausages again on Extrawurst. It’s been a while!