I'm not a big fan of people who sell their souls. It's beyond me why celebrities who are already multi-millionaires can't say no to that two-day photo shoot selling dodgy brands for yet more pennies they'll never be able to spend. On the other hand my last blog post was brought to you courtesy of Brown Brothers. A top-notch purveyor of cheap quality wines - check out their dessert wine...
I've suddenly realised I've been missing a trick. I should be going down the product placement route. Everyone else is doing it, why not struggling authors? Look at all those TV programmes and films that manage to get smoking into every scene – never wondered what's going on there? I obviously need to build product placement into my work from now on. And return to all my old stuff and update it. It's not like I'm short of opportunities. In 'The Northern Line to Shropshire' I praise all manner of things from cheddar cheese to Fulham Football Club. FOR NO FINANCIAL GAIN. I'm a fool. A patsy. A stooge.
No longer. For I have a plan. I'm going to talk to an old school friend who's now some sort of advertising supremo for Coca Cola in Atlanta, (short pause to ponder where my life took a wrong turning). He's bound to be up for it. I'll suggest re-editing my book for an immodest fee so that I mention Coke favourably at least once a chapter. And Coke can use their immense power and general awesomeness to teach the world to buy my book in perfect harmony.
This way, future generations will grow up learning that Coke goes great with Shropshire Fidget Pie, is the secret ingredient in a perfect pakora batter, and is the preferred accompaniment to a Chicken Balti. It will also be the only possible drink after a long walk on the Long Mynd, as described by the time we limped gasping off the hills into a hostelry, asked for Coke, were told they only had Pepsi and so staggered onto another pub a mile away.
I've suddenly realised I've been missing a trick. I should be going down the product placement route. Everyone else is doing it, why not struggling authors? Look at all those TV programmes and films that manage to get smoking into every scene – never wondered what's going on there? I obviously need to build product placement into my work from now on. And return to all my old stuff and update it. It's not like I'm short of opportunities. In 'The Northern Line to Shropshire' I praise all manner of things from cheddar cheese to Fulham Football Club. FOR NO FINANCIAL GAIN. I'm a fool. A patsy. A stooge.
No longer. For I have a plan. I'm going to talk to an old school friend who's now some sort of advertising supremo for Coca Cola in Atlanta, (short pause to ponder where my life took a wrong turning). He's bound to be up for it. I'll suggest re-editing my book for an immodest fee so that I mention Coke favourably at least once a chapter. And Coke can use their immense power and general awesomeness to teach the world to buy my book in perfect harmony.
This way, future generations will grow up learning that Coke goes great with Shropshire Fidget Pie, is the secret ingredient in a perfect pakora batter, and is the preferred accompaniment to a Chicken Balti. It will also be the only possible drink after a long walk on the Long Mynd, as described by the time we limped gasping off the hills into a hostelry, asked for Coke, were told they only had Pepsi and so staggered onto another pub a mile away.
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