PR Pranks

I suppose they must want to know how good you are at playing games.

When you're interviewed for a job in PR, that is.

Were you the child at the back of the class thinking up your next wheeze, instead of tackling some wholesome, improving algebra? Essentially bright but a bit disruptive, the champion practical joker of your year?

The game we want you to play in adult life is this: you have to ring up radio stations with shameless plugs for commercial operations, and pretend you've got some proper news to fill their bulletins with. The main way of doing this is via a survey.

So, for example, if it's a British hotel company, we'll point out, through some 'research', that fewer people are intending to go to New York to do their Christmas shopping this year. Astonishingly, that's because of the credit crunch, and the falling value of the pound against the dollar.

Then, a little further down the press release, we'll slip in the entirely coincidental fact that the hotel chain we're working for has just introduced some special offers.

This is a real example, though I've omitted the company's name, to save its blushes.

The second question asked at PR interviews must be: Going back to when you were at school, did you drag your fingernails down the blackboard at regular intervals, to drive your classmates almost delirious with irritation?

Because that's the effect their phone calls have.

'Oh hi, I'm calling from Double Cream.' (You're always expected to have heard of their firm).

'What's Double Cream?'

'Oh, we're a media company.' (The caller probably did a media studies degree.)

'A PR company?'

'Yes. Anyway, we've got something we think would be just right for you.'

'OK...'

'We've done some research, which shows that lots of men wish they didn't only wear black, grey and dark blue socks, and would, given a little push, go for something a bit more colourful.'

'Did you do your research in the pub at closing time?'

'Oh, er, ha ha, no, er, I don't think so.'

'This is just a guess, but are you working for a company which makes socks?'

'Oh, ha ha, well, yeah, actually, it's a new start-up called The Fluorescent Sock Company. Any colour you want, as long as it's orange or lime green.'

'Bye bye.'

As you can tell, all this turns us journalists into rude, cynical pedants. (Obviously we were cynical already.)

The really sad thing, however, is the number of capable people this sort of rubbish is swallowing up.

They almost certainly have a degree, can write a press release to a reasonable standard, and have a polite, patient telephone manner (the patience vital as I imagine my reaction to their fatuous suggestions is far from rare.)

They've somehow been persuaded that it's a worthwhile way to make a living.

It isn't. Capital would never run this sort of stuff, partly because the news editor, Matthew Schofield, runs a zero tolerance policy.

If everyone did the same, then the phone calls would become fewer, allowing us to get on with writing some proper news.