Bonfire Of The Brands

Work Schedule

2008-02-11T17:28:00.001Z

The Future Of Town Planning...

2008-01-18T12:05:00.000Z

from icWales newspaper

So, are you Cardiff’s biggest shopper?

THE hunt is on for South Wales’ biggest shopaholics! A group of super shoppers is being sought to help decide the shopping future of the capital. The people behind the St David’s 2 development are hoping to make the city one of the UK’s shopping hotspots. They are working hard to bring in all the best shops to the new centre, but need a team of 10 super shoppers to tell them which new stores people really want to see in the development. The lucky shoppers will be among the first to know which shops have signed up for St David’s 2 and will get sneak previews of what the centre will look like.

The super shoppers team will be made up of people of all ages and from all walks of life. The 10 will be treated as VIPs and will be taken to all the centre’s exclusive events. They will be given a £100 gift card to be spent in the St David’s Centre as well as gifts and goodie bags along the way. St David’s 2 project director Simon Armstrong said: “We are looking for people who love shopping, from teenagers to grandparents, who want to be involved with the city’s most exciting new development and who can give us their valued opinions as we move forward.

“This development will become a big part of Cardiff city centre and we want to involve its future customers as it starts to take shape. We’ll be asking them for their views over the next two years. They are, after all, the people who will be shopping in the new stores and eating in the new restaurants.”

Beyond The Factory Gates

2008-01-08T07:10:00.000Z

Sifting through the rubble of the post Christmas slump can be a gruesome business. The pile of unwanted gifts, the undignified scrum of the sales, and the looming horror of January’s credit card bills are enough to weaken the resolve of the most dedicated consumer (unless you’re in the market for a half price leather sofa or bathroom suite, in which case your time has come). But this year’s comedown is especially grim, rounding off as it does a twelve months consumer guilt trip. From killer plastic bags to sweat shop T-shirts, almost every item on our shopping bill has been red flagged. Perhaps the nagging has been justified, but it’s a curious state of affairs when consumers are shamed into ethical self-audits but the industries that produce the stuff remain free to do business as usual.

During this year’s dogfight for share of the UK broadband market, Carphone Warehouse offered a free Dell laptop to every new customer. Punters snapped up the deal in droves, regardless if they needed a new computer or not. This kind of retailing, one might argue, is competitive supply to healthy consumer demand. But in an age when the UK dumps two million working PC’s into landfills each year, the practice is really nothing short of reckless. Companies that flood the market with disposable produce take no responsibility beyond the factory gates. In clearing up the mess that's left behind, it is currently the role of the consumer to bare the financial cost and the ethical blame. Why are the companies that profit from these transactions not made to help out?

The notion of Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) isn’t new – it’s just taken an eternity to become law. EPR was born in the mid ‘90s, a policy between OECD nations with which to tackle wasteful disposability in consumer products. If manufacturers were required to take back and recycle end of life goods, so the thinking went, the enormous reprocessing costs would encourage companies to produce and market goods with a longer life span. EPR is taken seriously in some parts of the EU; in Ireland, suppliers are forced to take back and recycle old fridges whenever they deliver new ones.

Seventeen years on, this directive has finally become law in the UK. Since August 2007, manufacturers and suppliers of electrical goods have been legally obliged to take back products from customers, and reprocess the materials responsibly. In theory, the price that you pay for a product includes its safe disposal when you’re done. All you have to do is return it to the shop from which it was bought. Companies that supply electrical goods are legally obliged to inform the consumer of their EPR schemes. Non-compliance is subject to an unlimited fine from the Crown Court. If all this comes as news to you, it is because the Government has failed spectacularly to publicise this law. Unsurprisingly, British business isn’t in any hurry to promote EPR itself.

Try taking one of your unwanted Christmas gadgets back to the store it was bought from, and ask an assistant about their Waste Electrical and Electronic Equipment scheme. They won’t have a clue what you’re on about. There will be no signage within the shop to help. If you do find a store willing to take it off your hands, it will most likely end up in the waste bin. The DTI’s virtual non-policing of this law renders EPR a voluntary scheme at best. And so the UK remains on course to dump another 2 million tones of electrical equipment this coming year.

Alongside electrical gadgets, the UK collectively threw out 900 million items of clothing last year, but the flow of cheap disposable clothes isn’t being managed - if anything it’s becoming a free for all. On Jan 1st 2008, the EU will lift the import quotas currently placed on Chinese textiles. A new wave of impossibly cheap jeans and t-shirts is about to flood our high streets, the scale of which we have never seen before.
If you caught your child buying drugs in the school playground, you’d naturally want to reprimand him or her for being so stupid. But you’d also seek due justice for the dealer - you certainly wouldn’t allow him to carry on supplying at the school gates. It’s high time that the public - titillated into consuming, then chastised for doing so – demand compensation from the dealers. Consumer goods mountains don’t pile up by themselves.

I'm better than the average person because I own an Authentic Louis Vuitton

2007-09-09T11:42:00.000Z

The above title is the name of a user group I found on Facebook today. And below is the group's manifesto:

FACT : We are better than the average human being because we own either or all of Chanel, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Burberry, Gucci, etc...

FACT : We are superior humans for owning any of those brands.

FACT : We are hot

FACT : People should look up to us.

FACT : GLAMOROUS

Other Facebook groups of a jaw-droppingly materialistic nature are 'It's Fendi, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Prada or NADA!', 'All I Need Is My Louis Vuitton', 'Addicted to Adidas Superstars' and 'Addicted to SHOPPING!!!'

Here's a snippet from Addicted To Shopping....

Sarita (Finland) wrote
Shopping is a lifestyle - I'd rather buy a pair of fancy boots than food for the next two weeks. ;) Literally boots to die for, right? ;)

Samantha wrote
shopping makes me feel grrrrrrrrreat!!! super-fab!! once in the holidays...i went to the same mall 4 days in a row!!! i shop atleast once every 2weeks...even if i get summing small

Elena wrote
its a real therapy! shopping always makes me feel better even if i leave broke! and i wait to do it again!

Myths Of Branding No 5: Bad Science

2007-08-29T07:22:00.000Z

There is an episode of the Simpsons where TV muscle guy Rainier Wolfcastle mentors Homer to become a bodybuilder. Homer's secret weapons in the quest for fitness are Powersauce Energy Bars ("A bushel of apples packed in every bar, plus a secret ingredient that unleashes the awesome power of apples!!!") Homer later finds out that they are in fact made of apple cores and old Chinese newspapers.

There's a whole lot of bad science going on in branding, and not just in the murky world of bodybuilding. In fact, dodgy ingredients and phony clinical trials have been stalwarts of manufacturers ever since doctors were hired to endorse brands of healthy cigarettes. Surely, in 2007, us media savvy consumers wouldn't fall for such nonsense?

I give you Nivea Energy Fresh Deodorant - bursting with the awesome power of lemongrass! The visibly energized women in the advert would seem to imply that lemongrass has natural energy giving properties. However, a quick whiz around the net provides no evidence that lemon grass (Cymbolapogon flexuosus) is not commonly used as a stimulant. In fact a number of sources note that Lemongrass can be used as a mild depressant for the central nervous system.

And look again at the poster. The lady's not encircled by clumps of lemongrass, but halves of lemons. Now I'm no botanist, but even I know that lemon trees have no relation to lemongrass plants.

This campaign is rolling out all over the UK at the moment. It's accompanied by a poster for a new Nivea Visage Power range, which promises to revitalise the skin with an ingredient so valuable and scarce that only a manufactured cream can unleash its awesome potential. The ingredient? Oxygen.

Not Long Now

2007-08-25T07:20:00.000Z

Not long now before the book is out. Twenty years of brand shopping, eight months of therapy, one and a half years of writing and one public bonfire compressed into this small book - doesn't seem like much to show for it all really. I can't quite bring myself to read the thing yet, but the missus is half way through. 'I never knew you were quite so shallow' she said after the second chapter.

Anyway, the blog is back up and running, and I'm out and about doing some talks in the next few weeks if you have time to kill. First up is 'The Call Of The Wild' at the ICA on 3rd September. I'm joining Jay Griffiths, author of 'Wild: An Elemental Journey', Joanna Kavenna, author of 'Inglorious' and Tom Hodgkinson of The Idler and 'How To Be Free' in a talk to discuss 'the possibilities of un-tethering ourselves from the modern world'. Tom wanted to call the talk 'Smash The State', but the ICA had other ideas, which is handy, as I'm not entirely sold on state smashing.

Next up is book launch event on September 6th. We've set up a debate between myself, the BBC documentary maker Adam Curtis, Peter York and an account planner from Mother, whose name escapes me right now. And it's chaired by Ekow Eshun. There'll also be a bit of audience participation with ESP - a psychometric brand consultancy - who'll demonstrate some of the psychological practices currently used in advertising. Should be fascinating.

Then the Soho theatre on October 2nd - a talk with Lucy Siegle. Lucy is a wonderful writer who produces absolutely essential features on ethical consumerism and the environment for the Observer. I should really be interviewing her.

I sincerely hope these events go better than the Edinburgh Festival talk I gave this past week. My debate with writer Tobias Jones descended into class war very quickly; 'I think the trouble is people like you Neil, don't have the vocabulary to fully express the current human condition' said Toby. 'I might have had that vocabulary if I had the privilage of attending Jesus College like you did, Toby.' The crowd gave a pantomime hiss and it all went downhill from there.

Gone Shopping

2007-04-03T07:55:00.000Z

This blog is temporarily dormant while I complete my book, but it should return to life by the end April 07. Since starting the site over a year ago, the novelty of Blogging does seem to have worn thin, clogged up as they are by anonymous angry letters and porn spam. To that end, I'll be building a full reference website in the run up to the book release in September 07, which should be infinitely more useful and entertaining.

Manufacturing Consent

2006-11-21T12:29:00.000Z

I get out of bed in the morning and watch a bus roll past the window. It has a huge poster for the new James Bond film on the side. I log on to an online newspaper; an advert for the Bond film pops up into the centre of the screen. On the tube to work I see several passengers reading free newspapers, the entire front and back pages of which are devoted to an advert for Bond. As I leave the station, a passenger's mobile rings to the tune of the famous Bond theme. Passing a newsagents, I see one can buy James Bond National Lottery scratch cards. A schoolboy at the bus stop is stuffing his hand into a bag of crisps with a promotion for Bond on the side. I turn on my radio* and hear Cubby Broccoli's (the Bond producer) daughter talking about feminism on Radio 4's Woman's hour. In a café at lunchtime, I browse through a broadsheet newspaper; a double page spread tells me how I can get the James Bond body with a new fitness routine. Later at work, I overhear colleagues discussing the new Aston Martin that Bond drives. On the way home, I am handed a flyer advertising 'Bond's London', a tour of the city's sights as seen in the movie. I call a friend to ask what he's doing tonight, and he is, or course off to see the new Bond film.

The spin surrounding Casino Royale is like nothing I have seen since George Lucas took marketing advice from Bernard Matthews in selling his second trilogy turkey. Such is the pervasiveness of a full-spend marketing campaign, that for the average guy in the street, there really is no avoiding a major 'event' like the release of a blockbuster movie. As I am sure you have guessed, I'm not interested in James Bond. Yet I know that there is a new actor playing the role, that he wears an Omega watch, drives a Ford and an Aston Martin, he uses a Sony Ericsson phone, his femme fatale is called Eva Green, the story is from one of the original Ian Fleming books, the new Bond is more muscular, more gritty and more, er, blonde than before… all this I know, and not once have I made a conscious decision to learn this information. Somehow, I just know.

Now I begin to worry. Am I missing out on something here? If it's in the newspapers the critics must think the film is worth seeing. If my friends are talking about it, it must be worth seeing. Is this film an essential part of the zeitgeist, of which I must keep abreast or risk being labelled a laggard? Now I'm thinking that I should go and see the thing, that I ought to see the thing, even though I find the clichéd one-liners, the macho posturing, the stone age gender politics, the CGI action and the schmaltzy direction more than a little, well, shit. I know deep down that if I do go see the film, that I'll walk out feeling just as unsatisfied as I would eating the £5 bag of M&M's from the kiosk. And yet I'm thinking about going anyway.

I believe this is the modern manufacture of consent. Telling the public what they want, as opposed to providing what they need. How many people would really pay to go see an aging movie franchise like Bond, if it were not supported by an advertising campaign that overwhelms any negative thought about the product? Why would the producers spend the millions on advertising if the audience didn't need pushing into the cinema? Media tie-ins ensure any criticism of the product is edited out, or drowned out by the din of the ads (turn the page of every Bond newspaper feature and you'll see an advert that paid for it). If our homes and our streets and our stores become saturated with the branding of a product, it must be because the product is important in some way, it is a 'must see/ buy event'. Very few people seem to complain that their environment is being flooded with this stuff. Of course, we are free to go watch something else at the cinema and we are free to criticise Casino Royale among each other. But take it from someone who is making a point of avoiding mass marketing; we are not free to look away from the ads.

Laptop Alley

2006-10-30T08:38:00.000Z

Apologies for the delay in posting; I am embedded in the British Library, knocking out a chapter per month up to Christmas, when the book is due. I'll be re-starting this site in the new year, turning it into a proper resource on matters branded.

I sit each day in the area of the library known to staff as 'laptop alley'; a long hallway lined with sofas and 'workstations' crammed with people and their laptops. A good few people come on a regular basis and sit in the same seat each day. Too British to say hello, I have no idea what their names are or what they do. But I do know which brand of laptop they have, and I have begun to know them by these labels (The Sony Vaio guy who thinks he's way-cool, the studious looking girl with the MacBook)

I recently had a psychometric test done on me, a series of psychological interviews and hypnosis sessions which determine the type of consumer that I am. During the tests, it was explained to me that people who buy PC's such as IBM or Dell do so because they are practical people… you buy an IBM for what's inside the box (Pentium processors etc etc). In contrast, people who buy Macs are 'big picture' consumers, people who have creative imaginations who buy for meaning as opposed to practicalities. I wonder if these assumptions would bear out if I interviewed the regulars on laptop alley?

Months ago, I noted on this blog a conversation I had with a brand manager at Adidas; he believed in treating people according to the stereotypes of their brands, that this system of values saves us time in selecting friends and partners. According to this law, there would be no point in making friends with the attractive Asian women who sits beside me each day, because she has a clunky old Hewlett Packard. Nor the friendly looking middle-aged guy who sits opposite me with his Toshiba.

I have no idea what these people think about me… my de-branded laptop, together with my brand-free clothes/ bag/ water bottle/ packed lunch say little or nothing about the person I might be… except maybe that I am too poor to buy the good things in life. They are most likely getting on with their work and not staring at those around them… something I should learn to do if I'm to get this damn book finished.

Week 3

2006-10-10T07:18:00.000Z

Before I took a match to all my gear, I had planned to live without a mobile phone for the duration of the experiment. On reflection, I think that was a tall order. The combined withdrawal from the TV, the shops and, oh pretty much every aspect of modern urban life was, according to my therapist, turning me into a paranoid wreck. Without the phone, I was feeling completely disconnected from the world, regardless if people were trying to contact me or not; it was the being contactable part that I really missed.

So in a bid to reclaim my sanity, I finally connected with The Phone Co-operative, who are a small, ethically run mobile phone service provider outside Oxford. I have to admit that when I first contacted them, I was put off by the apparently small scale of the business, compared to the warehouse-sized call centres of Orange or o2. On my first enquiry to the company, the line was engaged. On the second attempt I got an answer phone. I began to wonder if the Phone Co-Op's network was built with string and tin cans.

However my confidence was fully restored when I did finally engage with an employee. Helpful, knowledgeable, courteous and professional are not words I would normally use to describe the drones on the end of the phone at Orange, but these folks were; almost to their discredit (what kind of company treats their customers with respect these days?).

Within five days I had a new number, a new sim card and a recycled, de-branded, unlocked handset, which cost me £20 from recyclemymobile.com (complete with the previous owner's address book, a Mr Rizwan from Bolton, as far as I can make out). Yes it is a Nokia. Believe me, I searched all corners of the earth for a generic non-branded phone, but to the best of my knowledge, there is none. To compensate, I chose the cheapest, nastiest, most basic phone on the website; as a status symbol, this phone says I have the aspirations of a nomadic goat farmer. An object of pure utility, this is not something that draws admiring comments when left on the table of a pub, and when I walk past gangs of young hooded phone robbers on the street, they pay me no attention whatsoever.

If you have a mobile (who doesn't) and are fed up with impersonal service, endless call queues and stupid marketing gimmicks (Orange's call packages are now called squirrel and elk, I believe) then wriggle out of your contract and speak to the Phone Co-Operative. I'd keep your polyphonic colour screen walkman camera phone though, as this stone age brick ain't much fun.

The Next Step...

2006-09-28T07:55:00.000Z

Someone suggested yesterday that the logical progression for this project would be to give up buying entirely and go forage for sustenance in the countryside. Hmm, one step at a time, one step at a time. Besides, there is an extremely brave and iron stomached gentleman who has beaten me to it.

Click here to find out which tasty weeds can be eaten from hedgerows and roundabouts. Makes Ray Mears look like the amateur he really is.

You Are What You Own

2006-09-27T07:00:00.000Z

From The NY Times. Thanks To Erin At Idea Generation

Week 1

2006-09-25T09:17:00.000Z

Despite the initial crashing depression/ withdrawal/ panic, I've managed to reach the end of the first week brand-free and you know what.. I'm still alive, and I actually feel much better about the whole thing. The new patterns of life are getting slightly easier and more familiar… its early days but I think I can get used to all this lifestyle, barring the odd slip up).

People may doubt the ethics/ politics of this project but one fact that is indisputable; this new lifestyle is by far cheaper and infinitely more healthy (physically and mentally) than my normal regime.

1. It's cheaper: my outgoings have dropped substantially. With no retail therapy as a leisure option, I've only bought stuff that I actually need, which isn't very much beyond food and cleaning supplies. All those bottles of Evian, packets of Marlboros and the odd impulse purchase on the high street add up. As long as I plan my day carefully, I don't really miss those 'luxuries' much at all. Well, not much.

2. It's healthier: the chemicals in all my cosmetic and cleaning products are gone since I have started making my own. Formaldehyde, phenol, benzene, toluene, and xylene (chemicals that are cancer causing and toxic to the immune system) are found in most household cleaners, cosmetics and processed food. A study by the Yale School of Medicine revealed that people who are exposed to cleaning products regularly have a significantly higher risk of brain cancer. Need I say more?

3. Its more fulfilling: with no TV to fill parts of the day, I am starting to read much more. I'm having to re-learn how to entertain myself… read a book, get out of the flat and do something. After a normal working day, the missus and I would both slump in front of the TV until we fell asleep; that’s all changing. Saturday morning would normally be spent roaming around the high street looking for things to buy that I couldn't afford and didn't really need. Now I'm forced to do something less boring instead.

Like I say, its early days; perhaps this is the honeymoon period before I start to feel completely paranoid and disconnected and start to grow dreadlocks and listen to Chumbawamba. This week, I pick up my generic mobile phone and switch contracts from Orange to the Phone Co-Operative. Giving up the fags has been hell, so I'm off to the hypnotherapist. Has anyone out there managed to kick the habit using hypnotists? It would be useful to know.

BBC1 News

2006-09-21T11:49:00.000Z

The Aftermath

2006-09-21T09:33:00.000Z

If there were five words to sum up the post-burning feeling in the Boorman household, they would be: numb, exhausted, quiet, bare and calm. No phones going off, no TV drone in the background, no piles of stuff clogging up the corners of rooms. There is perspective and clarity! Unfortunately, there is also minimal communication, even less entertainment and absolutely no SunPat crunchy peanut butter. My drain blocked this morning, and I'm wondering what to use instead of Mr Muscle.

In these early stages, the things I miss the most are Extra chewing gum, Evian water (or any bottled water when your caught thirsty in the street), The Simpsons, Marlboro Menthol cigarettes, and my Orange Treo phone. Stuff like chewing gum and water cost so little, that they don't appear to have much value, but when they are gone, you realise how much comfort they bring. Still, life goes on.

I'll be keeping this blog going until the book is out next year, but mostly as a resource page for non branded alternatives plus news and views surrounding advertising etc. If I write too much of my diary here, Google/ Blogger will claim ownership when I publish and screw me for the little cash I'll be making.

A quote from last week's Guardian article on the withering value of the FCUK brand…. basically, when the brand is weakened and the ads aren't so persuasive, people start to notice that the product is, well, a bit shit.

Rita Clifton, chairman of brand consultancy Interbrand: 'As the [FCUK] joke wore thin, it no longer had that type of emotional hold over consumers and when the emotional hold becomes weaker of course things like product inadequacy or lack of perceived value, all these things come into play'.
Guardian 13.09.06

Six months of hard graft... up in smoke!

2006-09-17T22:22:00.000Z

The Last Branded Thing I Buy

2006-09-15T07:13:00.000Z

If you'd have told me five years ago that the last branded thing I would buy (for a long time at least) was the Adastra 952 Megaphone, I would have laughed. But here it is… my aspiarions to Arthur Scargill chic finally realised with a loudhailer for my speech on Sunday.

If anyone has any good lines from famous speeches (Churchill/ Gandhi/ Chuckle Brothers) do please post some here, as I never took a course in motivational speaking. I'm told that finger wagging, shouting and fist shaking works well.

Hopefully see you at Finsbury Square, 7pm Sunday.

The Day Draws Nearer!

2006-09-14T20:52:00.000Z

For reasons known only to Blogger, this site has been frozen for two weeks, so apologies to anyone that wanted to find the location of the fire/ wish me well or ill / tell me to give my stuff to charity.

Anyhow, the fire takes place on Finsbury Square, London EC1 at 7pm sharp this Sunday 17th. Please pass by if you're in town. There's a free bottle of (non-branded) water in it if you do.

Back From The Dead!

2006-09-08T09:16:00.000Z

Oops, we apologise for the technical difficulties. No I haven't had second thoughts and done a runner.. I was just trying to move this blog to another site, and it all went a bit Gucci thong.

Anyhow, not much longer to go. I'll be announcing the bonfire venue on Monday, and if anyone's in the area, I would very much like to see you come down, even the people that have left nasty comments… any heckling will only add to the proceedings.

I am now in panic buying mode… clothes and food mainly, and trying to enjoy the non-replaceable branded stuff one last time; especially the TV. When you know something's about to be gone for good, the thing somehow takes on a special meaning… even Hollyoaks was watchable yesterday on E4.

The other device never to be replaced is the cursed Blackberry; good riddance to this instrument of torture. Though it looks like someone's already ahead of me on that one….

The Long Con

2006-09-04T06:21:00.000Z

Baking Soda. Who knew this competitively priced, common household object could hold the key to cleanliness? Trawling through the web for alternatives to Mr Muscle, Cif and Cillit Bang, I have come to understand that this simple item is the solution to all my cleaning demands. Seriously though, why is my cupboard full of expensive cleaners and detergents when this stuff (added to a little white wine vinegar) does the same job?

The bottles under my sink are over-priced. I knew that when I bought them, but I didn't think there was any alternative. Looking at the ingredients, I'm sure they are potentially harmful/ polluting. And they don't get the job done that much better. In short, it is a rip off. Which is one of the arguments I'm starting to come around to more and more re this project. The plain and simple truth is that branding artificially inflates the value of the product that it is attached to. We pay over the odds for products that are often only marginally better than the non-branded alternative; some of the time I think we know these things are overpriced, yet we are compelled to buy them anyway. I think it is a con.

I'm amazed that so many of the angry people who've visited this blog and the BBC site have missed this point. We are being ripped off on a grand scale. And to top that, we are so entrenched in the culture, we place so much of our time, energy and faith in it that we get upset when someone rejects the value of these things and decides to throw it all away. As an anonymous visitor to the blog posted yesterday, the likes of Elton John throw more money away on flowers in a month than the sum total of my entire bonfire's worth, and he is congratulated for it, as are all the majority of the wealthy who throw money away on luxury before our eyes in the papers each day.

Eye Of the Storm

2006-09-01T08:52:00.000Z

Despite what some people might think (party-going media w*anker) I currently spend 70% of my waking life sitting in my flat writing and reading, the other 30% looking for brand-free stuff in markets; so stepping into the eye of a publicity storm as I did yesterday was the most dramatic change of pace I've ever experienced. The following account plays right into the hands of people who posted/ emailed to tell me that I'm only in this for the publicity (to which I reply there are easier/ cheaper ways of getting press), but yesterday happened, there's no point denying it, so if you're interested in what its like, read on.

7.40: picked up by a cab (nice Audi) and taken to the Television Centre to be interviewed on BBC1's breakfast show. I'm plonked in a waiting room on my own with half an hour to spare before I go on… half an hour to try and maintain anxiety levels, which are already sky high, as I've never done live TV before. Gulping down some water I start to relax a little, only for the TV in the room to spring to life, playing the show I'm about to go on; 'Coming up, former Eastender Michelle Collins, REM's Michael Stipe and a journalist who is about to burn ALL his brands.' Jesus Christ, I hope the other guests don't come into this waiting room. what am I going to say to them.. 'So Michelle, did you really kill Ian Beale' as I quietly soil my trousers.

8.30: ten minutes to go, and I'm pacing outside the studio trying to hold it down. Michelle Collins is stuck in traffic apparently, so I might have to go on for longer. Or they'll rush the REM guy on early.

8.40: I'm sitting on the sofa in front of the cameras, waiting to go on. This is my last chance to make a run for it. What would they do, go straight to news and travel? I might never work on telly again, but who cares? Suddenly my gormless picture flashes up on a big screen behind me and we are away.

8.45: The interview is over. Didn't corpse or stutter thankfully. Completely buzzing with adrenalin, I cross the studio floor and bump into Michael Stipe, who's waiting to go on. 'Hey dude, good piece. I read your blog yesterday, I think it’s a cool thing that you're doing'. I'm lost for words. He continues, 'I bought these shoes from Prada yesterday, but only because they are the most comfortable I can find'. I'm still stood frozen. he shakes my hand and says 'I'm Michael'. 'Yes, I know. Pleasure to meet you. Err, thanks very much Michael... nice jacket, where did you get that from?' 'You don't wanna know' he shakes my hand and walks on to the set.

9.30: having been torn to shreds on Radio 5 Live the night before, it has been decided that I need two hours of intensive media training. I am now sitting with an ex news editor of the Daily Mirror, who is has turned his trade to coaching businessmen, politicians and celebrities how to talk themselves out of a crisis on the TV/ radio. Fascinating stuff, learning how to control the flow of conversation, crush arguments and make points. Though somehow, it all feels rather sinister. This is hardcore.

11.30: Mum, fiancé and a close friend call to say well done on the telly.

12.00: do a radio interview with an Irish radio station. They don't really ask me any tough questions, so it's not as stressful as before.

1.00: do a radio interview for a station in New Zealand. Again, the questions are reasonably fluffy, so not too many problems. Can't quite believe that this project has spread from my front room in London across the world to New Zealand.

2.00: speak to fire officers/ health and safety people who are concerned that I asked punters to throw their gear on the fire alongside me on the TV this morning. That was a big mistake. Must not do that again.

3.00: Do an interview with the Independent On Sunday, which is more demanding than the rest, plus I'm tiring of the sound of my own voice and feeling completely knackered. Still, I try and remember some of the training I had earlier in the day: DON’T TELL ME, SHOW ME.

5:00: meet with some more people from the Beeb about doing some sort of programme. Running on vapour now, a wired feeling of exhaustion and adrenalin that I can imagine can become quite addictive if you keep it up for long. For most of the meeting, everyone round the table picks holes in my project, though it is relatively well humoured. So far it's only been the BBC that has picked up on my story, TV-wise. Is that because they are the only broadcasters in the UK that are ad-free, and can afford to take the risk of me spouting on about the evils of advertising? Probably not, but it makes for a nice conspiracy theory.

6.00: I stumble on to the street from the meeting feeling a bit faint, and spark up a Marlboro Light (started smoking again due to the stress… going to a hypnotist next week to get that nailed). The smoke stings me eyes and as I rub them better standing hunched in the street, the adrenalin gives way and I'm crashing. Out of nowhere, a complete stranger on a bike stops and yells 'Oi, I saw you on telly this morning. When are you going to burn your stuff' 'Err, September 17th'. This day cannot get any more bizarre. 'I don't buy any brands if I can help it, have you heard of the Greenfutures website? They do loads of stuff that would be good for you.'. 'Err, ok, cool'. I'm so taken aback that anyone recognises me that for the second time today, I'm left stuttering and lost for words.

8.00: Go to bed. Start worrying that I've created a monster that I can't really handle, but before the though is even processed I fall asleep.

The Call Of The Mall

2006-08-30T08:04:00.000Z

Err, its all gone slightly crazy. First the Times then the BBC, I've had more emails and phone calls over three days than, well, I can care to remember. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to get in contact, even the cheap insults count, I guess.

I fell foul of my new non-branded things twice yesterday, causing my therapist to wonder if I was taking things too far. First of all I twisted my foot on the new non-branded plimsolls causing me to limp around town like an extra from Dawn Of The Dead. Secondly, the plastic bag I had replaced my regular North Face holdall with (until I get a new non-branded equivalent) split on me and I lost my (Sony) dictaphone. Yeah yeah, boo hoo, it's no big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it does go to show that brands can indeed deliver a certain standard of quality (Sainsbury's carrier bags are the strongest I find).

Talking of Dawn Of The Dead (the 1978 version, that is), I've always liked the subtext of that film; the zombies roaming an abandoned shopping mall mirroring the number one leisure pastime of our age. When there's no more room in hell, the dead shall walk TK Maxx.

The majority of my leisure time in life has been spent roaming shopping centres. Some of my earliest memories are of long weekends being dragged around clothes shops, furniture shops, bathroom shops (I grew up amidst the DIY boom); I remember Marks & Spencer being the most deadly boring of stores to play in, but the ultimate in tedium has to be carpet stores. No wait, mattress shops.

I overcame my aversion to shopping in my early teens, once I got my £10 per week income (paper round, car washing, pocket money) and the newly built Bexleyheath Mall became a home from home for my friends and I. Late night Thursday shopping was our chance to meet girls, maintain turf wars with boys and slip into Top Man to try on Farah trousers. We would return on Saturday morning and spend the entire day flitting from McDonalds to Our Price to Woolworths, browsing, dosing and very occasionaly buying. I remember Sundays were extremely boring, because back then, the shops didn't open on the day of rest.

We hung around shops because there wasn't really much else to do with our time. We were too old for youth clubs, too young for the pub, and banned from hanging around local parks; the mall was one of the few public spaces where we felt welcome, and boy has it rubbed off on me now. My generation, among the first to have been sold to almost from birth, could find no leisure pursuit beyond window-shopping. I think we were let down.

One of my key talking points in my book is going to be the way in which we teach our children to value material things; a good place to start might be to offer them alternatives to shopping as leisure on their Saturday afternoons, no?

Three Weeks To Go

2006-08-28T06:27:00.000Z

The relaxation tapes aren't working; my levels of anxiety are fluctuating between amber and red, and there's still three weeks to go. There's certainly no backing out now, since my inane grin was splashed all over the Sunday Times yesterday (fair play to the Times for running the story; other magazines have backed away, fearing it might upset their advertisers). Amongst dozens of texts and calls (mostly of the 'are you mad?' or 'you are mad, but good luck 'variety) an old distant friend phoned with serious concern for my wellbeing.

'You know, just because you've signed a book deal and got your face in the papers, it doesn't mean you can't back out even now. I don't want you to get yourself hurt'.

I was genuinely touched that someone was so worried about me. I've been living with this idea for over a year now, and I suppose I've been desensitised to the destructive aspects of this project, to the point that I'm actually looking forward to getting rid of the stuff… I'm anticipating a huge sense of relief. A huge loss too, but hopefully that'll be offset by the relief.

Another person called to say they've bought me insoles for my non-branded sneakers from their chiropodist! I have to say that the general reaction from friends and strangers is really heart warming.

So, for the next few weeks I am panic buying non-branded clothes, mixing up home made shampoo, cancelling my mobile phone contract (good bye dreaded Blackberry), and waiting for my de-branded Mac to arrive from the states. All the while battling with the local council to allow me to stage a bonfire in their backyard. Its looking like some items will have to be disposed of by means other than fire due to environmental restrictions. What do I do, smash them up or give them away?

Anyone interested in coming to the bonfire is most welcome to attend, and I'd be really grateful of the support, even if you're coming to heckle me, it all counts as support in my book. I'll announce the venue soon.

Does anyone out there own a large piece of wasteland in London that I could use for a venue? Mr NCP, Duke Of Westminster, HRH? Its only for an hour or so. You can have a Technics turntable and some Calvin Kliens (one careful lady owner) in return.

Well Heeled?

2006-08-22T08:58:00.000Z

I've been wearing my new non-branded sneakers for a week now, and I've developed a serious complaint on the soles of my feet. Truly, my plates have been so pampered by the branded luxury of adidas/ Reebok/ New Balance that they cannot suffer the zero cushioning/ support of my new shoes. Does any one know of any non-branded insoles I might buy?

Less than a month to go now, and I'm growing more anxious by the day. My therapist suggested that I go and buy some relaxation tapes, and practice breathing regularly. Some of that stuff does actually work, once you learn to ignore the dreadful Kenny G meets the Whales soundtrack. Breathe in, breathe out; forget the cost of burning all your gear. Breathe in breathe out; don't panic that you've only baking soda and mint with which to clean your teeth. Breathe in, breathe out; accept that you'll never eat a Snickers ice cream ever again. Breathe in, breathe out; remember that you're doing this for legitimate reasons, and not (as people who keep posting the blog suggest) simply to impress people who work on Radio 4 sociology programmes. I feel better already.

On a separate note, the gap between advertising and content just got that little bit smaller, as Budweiser announces that they are launching a film/ TV production company. For all those that once feared that culture would eventually be (not just paid for, but) created by brands, it is finally coming to pass.

Click here for the gory truth.

Brands And Consumer Debt

2006-08-21T07:27:00.000Z

David from Low Budget Life posted the most fantastic comment on consumer debt a few days back, and I thought I'd flash it up here on the site proper. The following argument certainly rings true with myself and all the friends I have around me…..

<1>The consumer debt mountain is certainly responsible for fuelling the consumer frenzy, which probably start in the very late nineties and peak around 2002-2003 and has perhaps faltered a little since then with retail suffering, rapidly rising bankruptcies, accumulating unemployment.

If you think back to our grandparent's generation thrift and frugality were the dominant way of living. The baby boomers brought a massive materialism to society, which has probably got worse with Generation X/Y.

However, the Boomers seemed to strike it lucky by growing up with a period of rabidly growing prosperity the like of which may never be seen again in the UK. They had living wage jobs for life, received the full benefits the generous welfare state, free education, and had the option of buying a council property for a peppercorn price or else had their mortgage paid effort-free by high 70s and 80s inflation. When Thatcher sold off the council houses, allowed aggressive American style lenders into a deregulated market causing house prices to fly into orbit, again the boomers won big
.
Small wonder even blue-collar families could put three modern Ford cars on the drive, have big tellies, consumer goods, and holiday abroad. As a generation, the boomers were - comparatively speaking - rolling in disposable income. Women when out to work, initially not merely to cover the bills in a sweat as happens today, but to improve 'living standards' of the family (AKA buying more and more and more flashier stuff).

Generation X/Y grew up in this culture. Back where I grew up if your Dad did something skilled-working class or lower middle class you lived in a big airy semi or detached house. If you were poor your family lived in a reasonably spacious council house. Kids from council estates were always good to know as they always had satellite, VCRs (with all the latest pirate releases) and big hi-fis in there homes years before anyone else. If your Dad was an officer in the armed forces, a senior manager for M&S, or ran a small works on the local industrial estate you lived in a huge detached house with big double garage and large gardens. Some Mums worked, some didn't, but if they did work it was usually something part-time and not too strenuous.

Now in much of the South of England - especially the South East - if you young or youngish you'd need to have a well above average salary to afford to live in an ex-council house. Your partner would need a full-time, serious, high-stress job as well just to cover the costs. Having a kid would seem pipedream if you wanted one, as you're already maxed out. As many companies have downsized, deskilled and offshored over the last decade younger workers have less chance of landing a good job anyway. So many of my uni peers failed to land 'graduate' jobs and started in positions they could have wound up in with A-levels. So, all in all, there's a big chance as the baby boomers kids now aged 20-32 will struggle, as a whole, to attain the same standard of living in many respects as the 'poor kid's families' I knew growing up.

A lot of Generation X/Yers are waking up to this reality but a large number feel they have AN ABSOLUTE RIGHT to the kind of lifestyles their parents enjoyed and are using debt to make up the shortfall between reality and their desires. Worse, they are probably far more brand-orientated than their parents and want everything their parents had PLUS all the funky branded fashions, cool homes with magazine-like interiors, ipods, technowidgets, and slimline mobiles. A massive inflation of needs.

We need to wake up - our parents lived in a period of unprecedented growth in opportunity, while the kids live with a McDonaldisaed job market, globalisation where workers have to compete with low-paid workers in far off lands, student and consumer debt enslavement, a dishonest inflation measure that cuts our pay each year, no social housing and huge house prices. Overall we're poorer - much, much poorer, and plummeting prices on DVD players, iPods and Primark sweatshop clothes do not alter that reality..

As more young people become debt-slaves to the bank and end up bankrupt a lot of people are going to realise their heroic 'consumer confidence' in support of Gordon Brown's thin-air debt economy has done them no favours at all.