Do you like to be teased sir? Do you like to be dangled ? Do you? Do you sir? Oh suits you sir, suits you!
In the trade that’s called a hook. Your curiosity has been piqued – you carry on reading.
I use the word tease, because I’ve been made privy to a secret, a new product launch, but like a good Catholic I have to pull out from telling you all the sexy details. Why you ask?
Well, I’ve signed a NDA, a Non Disclosure Agreement. This is a three page legal document that means if I spoil their launch I get electrodes attached to my goolies, but not in a good way.
It’s a conundrum - I’ve been asked to come up with an article about something I’m not allowed to mention or write or use any electronic media, etc, etc, blah blah blah.
I can tell you without fear of compromising my two veg, that it was a launch of some upgraded software.
Ok after your initial interest, at this point I have probably lost you, and I wouldn’t blame you. Look I know reading about a new software upgrade is about as exciting as a tax return.
Nik from ePHOTOzine hoped I would find it interesting; I didn’t want to disappoint her. So in preparation I tried to get in touch my inner geek. Hair slicked down - check, 6 pens in top pocket - check, practice nasally voice with Birmingham accent - check, NHS glasses with sellotape on bridge - check. I was ready to be mild.
On looking around at my fellow journalists I saw they didn’t look geeky at all. But when they started nodding their heads and asking questions about ‘headroom’ and ’64 bit compatibility’ I knew I was amongst them.
The good news there is an unwritten rule in PR the duller the product, the more exciting the venue, the better the food. We were in an achingly trendy boutique hotel in deepest Soho.
Before the main event we were asked to wait in a Moroccan themed room, all scatter cushions and pouffes. Please note I resisted a joke there.
As the clock ticked down to the off, there was a frisson of excitement. Or was that just the superb breakfast canapés, full english breakfast cunningly crammed into a vol-au-vent.
We were finally ushered into the screening room, to share in the secret of the pretty things. Feel the knowledge, feel the power.
So the American all dressed in black, Cuban heels and old enough to know better than to sport a pony tail, launched into his spiel. Actually it is a great bit of kit... but Dear Reader, that is where I have to stop. I may still want my gonads for procreation purposes, if that’s all right with you.
After all the mornings’ excitement, I walked out into the Soho sunshine headed for a cool café where I could write up this article. I strolled past one shop that had a sign in the window 'Massage from £6' that’s about the price of a decaf flat iced mocha macchiato latte in these parts. I couldn’t help wondering what you got for £6...
Soho is a fabulous place for people watching. My window onto Wardour Street was brilliant, I made an espresso last two hours. All life was there, including some very exotic flowers.
Then the tough cop from Life On Mars came in, except he didn’t look so tough with his perma tan and his blonde high-lighted hair, jumper slung knowingly over shoulders. All very metro-sexual rather than ‘shut it you slag’.
At some point in the future, I will be able to share my new-found knowledge with you... just not now.