…plus personalisation that’s not so personal and a (quick) grammar lesson.

This week, it’s time for words to make way for pictures again.

Yes, it’s Copycam: my occasional series feauturing copy that’s grabbed my attention - and not always for the right reasons.

Dr Doctor

Last week, this flyer slipped through my letterbox and landed on the mat.

Now if you were looking for an osteopath, wouldn’t you feel better knowing you were in the hands of this chap?

Who cares what the copy says? His name alone is enough to inspire confidence. 

You couldn’t make it up, could you? And luckily, he didn’t have to.

Blankety blank

Personalised marketing routinely results in a much higher response rate: sometimes, as high as 10% (remember, the typical response is 2%).

But personalisation means getting it right. And Konica Minolta got it wrong - twice.

First, I asked them to exclude me from their mailing list. They didn’t, and this arrived:

Isn’t that nice?

You remember a couple of weeks back I talked about Laura Trice, who said we don’t get thanked enough because we don’t ask for it.

Well how about this? A thank you - and I didn’t even ask. They’d made a mistake, but at least they were nice people.

I got that warm fuzzy feeling.

It didn’t last. Inside, here’s what I saw:

Doesn’t really make you feel special, does it?

Apart from poor marketing, it’s also a perfect example of a common grammatical error: the dangling participle. ‘As a valued customer’ should logically be followed by ‘you’ (not ‘we’).

Because I’m the valued customer - not them.

Or at least, in theory I am. In practice, I’m a nameless record in a database - but you get the picture.

Fowl play

And speaking of grammatical errors, here’s a sign I noticed in the centre of Cambridge recently. Can you spot the mistake?

Well done. It’s ‘lie down’ not ‘lay down’. Unless you’re a chicken after some winter sunshine.

And finally

In a footnote to last week’s entry on country branding, I see that Iceland has launched a bid to restore its tarnished image.

You may remember that Gordon Brown said it was “totally unacceptable and illegal” that Iceland failed to guarantee British savings in Icelandic banks. And he went further, freezing Icelandic assets using anti-terror legislation.

Not very good PR.

Well now, Iceland has fought back. The Icelanders are NOT terrorists website is simple, charming and effective.

A stroke of genius.

Find out more:

• Bristol University’s Improve your writing page will help undangle your participles.
• Can’t decide whether to lay an egg or lie down? The University of Kansas comes to the rescue with a simple explanation.

…plus the fascinating world of deposits and withdrawals

It’s Copycam time again.

As I mentioned before, going out for me is a verbal assault course. Everywhere I look, there are lessons to be learned - and recorded for posterity.

Sometimes, though, I don’t even have to leave home.

When my system has had enough caffeine, I often reach for a fruit infusion from Twinings. My favourite is orange, mango and cinnamon - the perfect blend of tang and taste.

Or at least it used to be.  Because this:

has become this:

It’s a classic case of features and benefits. Orange, mango and cinnamon are just three randomly combined elements. And it was a combination I liked, though I couldn’t tell exactly why.

But now I can - because it gives me a moment of calm in a chaotic world.

I feel better already.

It’s no accident that Twinings has rebranded its fruit infusions. I’ve noticed recently that Tesco’s own-brand infusions no longer just give a list of ingredients, but create a promise: they’re detoxifying (nettle leaves, hibiscus and dandelion root) or energising (ginger, ginkgo biloba and ginseng).

Or even soothing (camomile, lemon balm leaves and aloe vera). That’s my favourite - I wonder why?

Because selling benefits, not features, always works.

Special branch

Sometimes, you can stretch language beyond believability, so you need to be careful that you don’t get carried away on a wave of enthusiasm.

Just the other day, I was in London, and spotted this:

Another HSBC branch - just what Oxford Street needs, I thought. But it wasn’t just any old branch.

I looked more closely:

Exciting. Yes, that’s what it said.

Now if I played a word-association game, I’d bet my very last orange, mango and cinnamon teabag that you’d never come up with exciting.

Practical, yes. Bright, spacious, comfortable - maybe.

But not exciting.

Would you credit it?

Banks have an odd habit of mangling language. In an attempt to reach out to customers, Barclays decided a while back to be less formal.

Now, every time I withdraw cash, I feel a toe-curling embarrassment on their behalf:

If only their straight-talking approach extended to everything they did.

Just last week, I dropped into my local branch of Barclays to bank a cheque.

A young chap in a smart suit was accosting people in the queue. Were they looking to withdraw cash, he wondered? Because if they were, there was a “security issue”.

I couldn’t resist.

“What’s the problem?” I asked

“It’s a security issue,” he said again, without blinking.

“Yes - I know that,” I said patiently, teasing each syllable out. “But what exactly is the problem?”

He looked at me. I looked at him.

He shifted uncomfortably, and his patent-leather shoes squeaked.

“We can’t open the safe,” he said.

Now that’s what I call an issue.

 …plus, naming your company, clever taglines, and the power of one little word

I’ve been framing, focusing and snapping again, as part of my Copycam series. With my mobile-phone-that’s-really-a-camera, I’ve found some gems.

And this first one shows just how critical it is to proofread. Sometimes, you need to do it more than once, as there’s always something that flies beneath the radar.

As it did with this sign. I wonder exactly what a consutant does?

A friend of mind who’s a recruitment consultant (as opposed to a recruitment consutant) once told me that it was standard practice to invent double- or even triple-barrelled names for companies in his sector. 

I asked him why.

“It makes people think they’re dealing with a long-established company, formed by partners. Inspires confidence,” he said confidently.

You simply string together impressive-sounding names, he told me, and presto - you have a long-established company. Flashman Arnold.  Ryder, Flyte and Blanche. That sort of thing.

I thought of his story when I saw this sign on a contruction site in Cambridge. For just a moment, I was reminded of Sue, Grabbit and Runne, lawyers to the litigious and the bane of satirical magazine Private Eye.

A walk to my local pharmacy left me scratching my head the other day. Not because I couldn’t read my doctor’s handwriting (prescriptions are laser-printed these days).  It was more to do with a clever tagline I simply didn’t get.

First, I felt puzzled. Then dim. And finally, irritated.

I’m not in their target market, since I haven’t got even .2 of a child, but I wondered how many of their potential prospects felt it was just a bit too clever.

A trip to Borders made me think twice about the power of one little word.

How.

It’s got an in-built promise. You’ll learn something. You’ll find out the secrets. You’ll be able to do something new.

In the business section, virtually every cover used it: How to be an entrepreneur, How to get rich, How to lead, How to get more done.  And my favourite, How to get your ideas adopted (and change the world). 

It’s just three letters, but it’s irresistible.

How could you say no?

When I finally upgraded my mobile phone, after much research and indecision, I didn’t actually choose a phone - I chose a camera that happened to make phone calls.

Let’s face it - we often delude ourselves when we’re shopping. That’s why we end up with books we don’t read, clothes we don’t wear and gadgets we don’t use.

I almost fell into that trap.

And then I realised that for me, a mobile phone is just a convenience: it’s useful if I’m late for a meeting, or need to speak to somebody right now and it really can’t wait.

But I don’t want to microwave my brain with 900 minutes a month. If I send two texts a month, it’s a record. And as for instant email, well I’m sure luscious Ludmila and The Viagra Superstore can wait until I get back to the office.

No - for me, the camera’s the thing.

And one of its chief pleasures is snapping copy that catches my eye. So here, in the first of a regular series, are some examples of the good, the bad and the ugly.

Word workout

When I’m stuck in a creative corner, I often hit the gym: just getting those endorphins pumping makes the ideas flow.

It’s also a happy hunting ground for copy, starting outside the building:

The gym is in a leisure park, and these are all the things you can do. But it doesn’t work, does it? The reason is simple: lists work when the elements are similar. So it should be fitness, dining, bowling, movies, cafe, bar.

It’s an easy mistake to make, but it really affects the rhythm of the copy. Here we go again, this time inside the gym:

First, we have build, increase, boost, reduce. So far, so good (all verbs).  But then the list falls apart, and we’re left feeling slightly seasick.

The solution?  Break it into two lists - one for benefits (build, increase…) one for features (effective, healthy…).

Now it works.

OK, let’s go into the changing rooms. If you were trying to sell people water based on its rehydrating properties, where would you put the advert?

Above the urinals, of course. A master stroke (yes, pun intended).

And if water’s not your thing, how about an energy drink?

This one always gives me a Lynn Truss moment (Eats shoots and leaves vs. Eats, shoots and leaves). 

All it needs is a hyphen, so it would read Junk-free and proud of it. But mentally, I provide my own punctuation: Junk, free and proud of it.

I think I’ll stick with tap water.

Merry Christmas.