Tim Ireland on tabloids, media, blogs and politics
Consume!
London May Day 2003
1st May 2003
The day started out simply enough with a trip to Canary Wharf. I must say the police presence surprised me. These were the first three policepersons I saw, and I popped my bags of shoeboxes down for a quick picture. Sharp-eyed locals will no doubt recognise the Daisy & Tom shopping bag that clearly identifies me as a hardcore anarchist.
I figured there’d be plenty to get on with on the day, so decided to get the wanky art out of the way first (see London Peace March for previous wanky art). The point of the exercise was to plant open shoeboxes (containing the pictured ‘authentic’ incriminating document) that could be conveniently discovered by Daily Telegraph ‘journalists.’
Discovery was a major part of the work, so it wasn’t quite as simple as delivering a box to the front desk. I left the first two in the care of these gentlemen facing the Canary Wharf Tower.
I also left some facing the ‘smokers corner’ out front of the building, in the park a small distance from the main building (presumably reserved for more anti-social smokers) and in this cosy little basket.
Finally, I headed into the shopping complex below the building and left a few more ready to be discovered, including this one located where most right-wing journalists do the majority of their thinking (and dating, if you believe the gossip).
From here, I made a clean ‘getaway’ via Docklands Light Railway (you can see the last one I left in place under the seat there).
BTW, the inverted commas are there because I actually had to ask a policeman for directions. Hardly the crime of the century. Still, Canary Wharf wasn’t an ‘official’ target as far as I knew, but I had mentioned my intentions regarding this installation on the Urban75 web forum (favourite for authoritarian lurkers). Could all of those police really have been there just to hassle little old me? I can only assume not, as I did the entire installation in full view of a number of police and security guards, towing a dirty great black plastic bag. And stopping to take photos every few minutes.
No matter. The train took me all the way to Bank. I toodled right along, because I was late for the disco.
En route, I met the following happy individuals, intent on cleaning up capitalism. They gave the Bank Of England a darn good polishing…
…only to get questioned by the police for their troubles. This certainly wasn’t the only overreaction of the day, but I’m getting a wee bit ahead of myself.
I wanted to hook up with the Space Hijackers, as their planned event had a simple agenda rooted in good old-fashioned fun. The mobile disco had a modest turnout, but was far from disappointing. I must admit that I did little dancing myself, but after 10 years of DJing, you kind of get used to standing back and watching everyone else have a good time. Sad, isn’t it?
Still, there was plenty to keep me entertained. When this visibly high-risk group headed towards Liverpool Street, they and the partygoers they had recruited were followed by close to a dozen police.
They drew quite an audience at Liverpool Street Station, including yet more police. Clearly nobody had anything better to do. Many lunch breaks ran into overtime.
“Caucasian male. Dark Suit. Red tie. Appears to be doing the Funky Chicken. Caucasian male. Dark suit. Blue tie. Clearly seen to limbo in a public place.”
Sadly, I had to leave the mobile disco, as I wanted to see what kind of turnout they would get at the Lockheed Martin building. I took this one last picture of the gathered audience outside, before catching the Central Line to Tottenham Court Road.
It was time for a change of pace.
It was a pretty good turnout, erm, as it turned out. I mostly busied myself with distributing surgical face-masks to those worried about the SARS virus and/or trial by media, as well as Out Of Order stickers to those concerned about the functionality of the system at large. I did, however, manage to get this picture at that vital moment when the traffic finally ground to halt. From this point on, police held the line that if you were on the road, you were an anarchist. If you were on the pavement, you were a bystander. This rule held even if the road were shut off for two blocks in either direction. I really should have remembered this, but again, I’m getting a wee bit ahead of myself.
This brave gentleman headed into the centre of the crowd claiming to be a Capitalist And Proud Of It…
…he was removed by the police for his own safety. Yes, that is an Out Of Order sticker he’s wearing. Fine by me. The joy of the Out Of Order Project is that it’s open to personal interpretation. One of the few nice policepersons I met on the day asked for a sticker as a souvenir, and actually stuck it to his inside vest – then swiftly moved it to his report book when I whipped my camera out. Heh.
From here everybody started marching down nearby Shaftesbury Avenue, and things looked pretty casual for a while…
… but about a block down the road, the rear cordon began. Police quite pointedly made it clear to anybody on the fringes that if you went in; you stayed in. Fair warning, or subtle intimidation?
Well, the photographers moved in a few minutes later, and the vans weren’t far behind, so I’m inclined to think the latter.
Here are a few folks carefully thinking it over. Numbers down this year? Here’s where about half of them went. Quite a few Parents With Prams backed off from this point on.
And here come the vans!
From here, the protestors were hemmed in and carefully guided toward Trafalgar Square. The crowd tried to change direction early on, and even had mixed success with the occasional side road, but disruption was limited to about a block a time. A sound tactic in theory, but the very deliberate warnings had stuck in my mind. A shut-in wasn’t far away. In fact, it was more or less already in effect.
Those who tried to leave the march at this stage were edited according to police tastes. If you looked like a tourist, you were allowed to leave. If you looked like a soap-dodger, you were staying right where you were. It was at this stage that I actually ran into Mike Slocombe (of Urban 75), pictured here giving an interview after being, as he described it, illegally detained. Two or three years ago, I would have mocked him for overreacting. I was two blocks away from an even more pronounced shift of opinion.
It’s important to note that the mood of the crowd didn’t change until the police tactics did. A serious shut-in took place about three blocks north of Trafalgar Square. They then almost doubled in numbers, and pushed the crowd in nice and tight, narrowing the cordon across the width of the road. Not to allow any kind of access, mind, just to make the gathering look as dangerous as possible and to dish out a mild form of physical punishment.
It was at this stage that I walked past what was clearly a monitoring van, surrounded by a few undercover guys. A quick glimpse inside showed the comprehensive face-by-face indexing was going on – and these were people that had not necessarily chosen to be where they were.
I whipped out my remaining box of surgical masks. I took one step onto the road (to join several other people with cameras) while considering my options. Big mistake – remember the arbitrary rule about roads and pavements?
I was actually grabbed by a policeman, dragged 12 feet across the road, and shoved inside the cordon!
I shit you not.
It all happened so fast, I didn’t get the officer’s number, but he was uniform – and had one eyebrow doing the job of two. He disappeared pretty sharpish. All the policemen who clearly saw me being shoved in from across the road claimed to be completely ignorant of my situation. I was inside the cordon, and there I was going to stay. I tried to leave early on (it was patently ridiculous, they had all seen what happened, etc.), but got a hefty shove in the middle of the chest for my troubles. Boos from the crowd. I asked to see a senior officer a number of times, but was given the ‘he’s over there… no, he’s not here, he’s over there’ run around.
I had no problem being hemmed in, shoved around and digitally indexed, really (damn, I’d published everything I was going to do and was well within my rights to do it) but there was a principle at stake. You know what I’m like with those pesky principles. I tend to stick to my guns.
Remember this face. This is one of the guys who ‘knew nothing’ about my situation, so was ‘completely helpless.’ We were being held ‘for our own protection and in the interests of public safety.’ If indeed it were true that I had been shoved across the road and inside the cordon, then that would have to be a serious matter to be discussed with a senior officer, but he had no indication that this truly was the case, so as far as he was concerned, I was there voluntarily. Tough. You wanna try holding that camera still, buddy – it looks like you’re shaking a bit there. And so on.
Scary, huh? After promising wife, mother and kids that I would be careful, here I was being outwitted by a bunch of halfwits. It was the trust issue that got me. I actually found it completely inconceivable that a policeman would abuse his power in such a way.
I argued with a number of police until I was blue in the face. Actually, I kind of argued until I was white in the face. That stomach virus and dealing with the rush of activity around it had pretty much knocked the stuffing out of me. On this day, after 8 hours of operating on breakfast alone (and a rather ill-advised scotch and cola en route), I suddenly dropped on the spot in a dead faint.
There were legs, arms, a couple of voices, but I didn’t really come to until I found myself sitting on my arse outside the cordon with two police medics in attendance.
Got bag? Yep. Got camera? Yep.
Bodily inventory? Everything intact, and largely unscathed. Good. State of mind? Wits returning, but dignity shot to hell. Still, you can’t have everything.
They offered me water, but I fished my own bottle out, along with a chocolate bar. The sugar rush obviously brought the colour back to my face, because the worried look on the medic’s face faded away as my focus returned…
…just in time to see the chap you see pictured above tell the medics that I was an organiser (!) and obviously faking it. He wanted me dragged back inside the cordon. Now. Get up, son. A look from one of the medics sent him on his way, but my climb back to reality just got a lot steeper.
A person is an illegal detainee if they are prevented from proceeding or restrained in custody in violation of the law – and I had been specifically singled out and collared for that purpose. This so-called servant of the public, and no doubt most of the smug gits around him, knew exactly what was going on. I was calmly and deliberately being taught a lesson.
Lesson noted. Congratulations to the police on a job well done. I used to be a Sometime Concerned Citizen. Now I’m a Determined Activist. What choice do I have?
Michael Carroll needs more money!
7th Nov 2002
You can only imagine how devastated Michael Carroll must have been when he first learned that he had only won 9.7 million on the National Lottery. To have come that close to a significant monetary landmark only to fall a mere 300 grand short must have been a real kick in the guts.
Also, you must agree, it makes for a pretty pissweak headline. ‘Tagged Offender Wins 9.7 million!’ doesn’t have anywhere near the same pizzazz as ‘Tagged Offender Wins 10 million!’
The population of this country also requires this easy-to-remember figure in order to be able to quote it accurately whilst expressing outrage down at the bingo hall or in the local pub.
For this reason, we’re running a special campaign to help Michael make up the shortfall – and we want it to come out of your pocket. This will not only help Michael to reach that all-important 10-million landmark, it will also give you an easier number to remember – and further justification to vent your rage.
How much you give is up to you, but our target is 300,000 squid (and you’ll probably want to give an exceedingly generous amount so you can get a decent red mist going).
We suggest a donation amount of 25 pounds (as this is roughly the average amount spent each week by National Lottery players). If you can’t afford this, then perhaps you can simply choose to not play the lottery this week and instead send the amount you would otherwise have gambled directly to Michael.
After all, it’s not like you’re going to win or anything…
Where to send your donations:
This address has been removed on legal advice. More soon.
UPDATE (7th July 2004) – I’m sure you’ll all be delighted to know that an on-the-ball team of patent and trademark attorneys toils night and day to protect the good name of the National Lottery. In fact, they sent what was no doubt a rather expensive letter to my service provider (instead of, say, emailing me directly, which would have been far cheaper and much more polite). In their letter, they demanded that I remove the address of the National Lottery’s head office from this page; because they were concerned that you – the unwitting web user – would assume that this campaign was endorsed by the Camelot Group or some such nonsense.
For the record; no, this isn’t a serious fundraising effort on behalf of Michael Carroll. I should also point out – just so we’re all clear on this matter – that this web page which actually suggests that you shouldn’t waste your money on the National Lottery is in no way endorsed by the good people from the National Lottery.
However, it may appear to some people that lottery money has been spent (or perhaps even wasted) on this web page; courtesy of the good people at David Keltie Associates. (A copy of their letter has been posted below for your reference.)
Big Brother: The Eviction Experience
5th Jun 2002
Early on Friday 30th May, we instigated a campaign to unclog Alex, who had been feeling the effects of stress and a significant change in habit. As part of this, we suggested a number of scaled activities to ensure that Alex received treatment for his condition.
While sending a full range of Senokot products to the producers was entertaining and quite fulfilling, we pretty much came to the conclusion that a live protest at an eviction was a step forward that really couldn’t wait a week. By now it was midday. Could we get tickets? Could we get there in time? Would our protest be heard? Most importantly, would our message reach the television audience?
Getting The Tickets
The first step was to get tickets. These are normally available through a company called Powerhouse (020 7240 2828), who supply free tickets to a hundreds of audience-based shows. The difficulty being, of course, that we were after tickets for that very night. Not easy.
I won’t tell you how we managed it in the end, because we don’t want the poor dears to be overwhelmed by last-minute demands for Big Brother tickets. Let’s just take it as a given that mere mortals such as your good self are required to book at least a week in advance – probably much earlier as the show nears its end and excitement reaches a fever pitch.
Getting There
The easiest method for most who live in and around London is by public transport, with the nearest station being Elstree & Borehamwood. Be warned, however, that it’s a fair walk from the station to the studios and they don’t let you out until around 11:00pm (so you really have to hightail it back to the station to get back to Kings Cross in time for the last trains).
If you drive like we did, don’t park in the Tesco car park (which is right next door). Do so and you will be clamped. There are bright pinks signs that will direct you instead to a council car park a few blocks away that’s free after 6:30pm. Here’s an online map showing the location and its proximity to the station.
Getting There Early
To ensure a full house, Powerhouse actually ‘oversell’ tickets to off-set the risk of no-shows. Unless you’re blessed with a ‘guaranteed entry’ ticket, you’ll probably have to arrive at least 2 hours ahead of the scheduled entry time (8:45pm). We arrived pretty much bang on 7:00pm and managed not only to get in, but also get a good position one row back from the front, close to the studio doors (this gets you more Davina-time – see below). Again, as the series progresses, you may have to get in even earlier.
Standing In Line
Standing around for two hours is kind of dull. If you’re going alone, take a book. If you want to make friends, take a portable television set. One chap armed with such a device found himself to be very popular, especially as Lynne’s eviction was announced. As you might guess, nearly all of the conversation centred on Big Brother, but we quickly found ourselves on the outskirts of most exchanges once our fascination with Alex’s bowels came to light.
Security and production crew will drop by in advance to make sure you’re not carrying anything offensive. This really is quite important information, especially if you’re arriving by public transport (if you can’t take it in and you have nowhere to put the contraband, you’ll have little choice but to throw it away or stay outside with it).
Placards and Signs
These will be inspected very closely – front and back – for offensive messages and brand names (both frowned upon). Signs with sharp edges or long handles will similarly be rejected for reasons of safety. Our placard had an extra-long handle, which we had to break in half to please security. The sharp edge that resulted seemed much more dangerous to us, so we spent the next 20 minutes blunting it against the tarmac.
Food and Drink
You won’t be able to take any food or drink in with you, but you should also avoid overdoing it while standing in the queue, as there are only a few portaloos inside (and trotting off to any one of these is sure to lose you your place). There is a McDonalds across the road if you feel you must fuel up with sugar and grease, but you should expect this outlet to be very busy from about 6pm onwards.
Smoking
Smoking, surprisingly, is permitted.
Other items not allowed inside the studio grounds include:
- Cameras
- Recording devices
- Alcohol
- Anything that could be remotely described as an offensive weapon
You will be searched, frisked and scanned with a metal detector on the way in. I made the mistake of taking my work bag, which was full of metal items and presented a big headache for the security team. Thankfully, I arrived just as there was a backlog at the main gate, so I wasn’t responsible for holding up the line – but having to juggle items from my back, front, rear and coat pockets as I opened various side pockets on my bag was not something that I’d want to repeat. The moment when they produced not one but two bottle openers was hard to top for its sheer embarrassment factor, but what I entirely forgot was the large box on Senokot tablets that I had in my jacket pocket from the photo shoot earlier that afternoon. I got through pretty quickly after that, but in the end, they felt they had to object to something, so the larger of the two bottle openers did end up in the bin.
Our advice is to check your bag and belongings before you go and shed anything you have any doubts about.
Being Herded
Once the ‘guaranteed entry’ ticket holders and those with colour-coded wrist bands (i.e. the beautiful people) have been escorted to the front, it’s time to let in the rabble. This is done in groups of about 100 people, who are herded past the Big Brother house and into place in the fenced reception area.
The first thing that strikes you when you see the Big Brother house is how small it is. The other is how big the security dogs are. Don’t even entertain the notion of yelling a message or throwing anything over the fence as you go past, unless you want to end up as a late supper.
Waiting and Watching
Once you’re let in, there’s yet more standing around to be done, but they do at least have ‘live’ footage from the house projected onto the plain white wall that faces the reception area.
From time to time the warm-up man will get you to yell and scream for a bit and hold your signs in the air. This lets the producers and cameramen line up what they consider to be the best shots.
Similarly, the lovely Davina will make an early appearance to fish for material from the front lines. This appearance will be brief and fleeting, and she won’t get anywhere near the core of the crowd (at the bottom of the stairs). We used this opportunity catch her eye with our extra-large banner and inform her of our Let’s Get Alex Moving campaign.
Blink And It’s Over
After over an hour of ‘very soon’ this and ‘a few minutes’ that, it’s time for the show. By now, the crowd is well-revved up you’ll find yourself with much less personal space as the harsh reality of the cameras sets in and people naturally surge to the front.
Davina did her preliminary walk-past and did, as it turned out, mention our banner and the campaign behind it – but we didn’t know about this until we got home and watched the recording. The crowd was that loud.
Lynne was evicted from the house and guided past the one-sided gauntlet. Davina and Lynne made their way past the crowd and into the studio within a matter of seconds. One idiot jumped over the fence and was quickly spirited away by security. I think they fed him to one of the dogs.
All that remained was to watch the post-eviction interview on the house projection but, truth be told, after 4 hours of waiting resulting in 40 seconds of activity, most of the audience outside was wondering when they would be allowed to go home.
That time didn’t come, of course, until half an hour later. Davina appeared just once more (again, getting nowhere near the core of the crowd) to get some vox-pops, and was quickly spirited back into the studio.
Announcements were made, gates were opened, and all that was left was the march past the Big Brother house and the ever-vicious guard dogs. We did, however, have one more task before our evening was over.
Damn it, we had a campaign to run, and pamphlets are central to this. We made our way to the head of the crowd as best we could and turned around to face the oncoming multitude. Cries of “Help us to help Alex” were largely ignored and for a moment it looked like we would go home with nearly all of our 200+ pamphlets. An ingenious change in promotional tactics followed, where we instead implored the crowd to “Help us to help Alex’s bowels”. We ran out of pamphlets in less than a minute. Go figure.
All in all, it was an educational experience, but not one we see ourselves repeating. Unless, of course, Alex looks to get the boot this Friday, in which case you should keep an eye out for us front row, centre.
Cheers all.
Support our campaign to unclog Alex.
Check out this enormous collection of Big Brother links.
This site is in no way endorsed or recognised by Endemol, Bazal or Channel 4. You can access the official Big Brother site here.
Let’s Get Alex Moving
31st May 2002
Viewers of Big Brother will be more than aware of Alex’s recent lack of reliable bowel activity. Such a condition is quickly and easily attributable to a combination of a sudden change in diet and/or habit, and stress (though the presence of a camera in the toilet is a contributing factor that cannot be discounted).
The ever-lovely Narinda (from Big Brother 2) continues to suffer, associated as she is with the stigma of stubborn stools. This is an association that most of viewers of the show will carry with them forever, so we are concerned not only for Alex’s general well-being, but also his future as a photographic model. The last thing we want is for his career to be tainted by people wondering whether that gorgeous pout is strictly for the camera or a sign of general discomfort.
This we would consider to be extremely unfair. The producers, knowing full well that this kind of thing can happen, should have taken measures that ensured a high-fibre intake to offset the dangers of this sudden change in lifestyle and the effect it can have on one’s digestive system.
Sadly, the time for dietary solutions has passed – but, while Alex has actually been in the diary room suggesting the possible need for a suppository and lubricant, affirmative action need not be this extreme. We do live in the 21st century, after all, and many far less intrusive measures are available to us. (Unless, of course, Alex would prefer a suppository – in which case we would support him wholeheartedly. At the very least, it would make for very interesting television.)
Even if Alex has experienced some relief recently, it does not necessarily mark the end of this condition. To ensure that Alex and the rest of the housemates have the opportunity to remain happy, healthy and regular, we intend to employ the following progressive plan of action.
Step One
Voice our concerns to the producers of Big Brother.
We’ve already emailed Endemol to advise them of our position, making very clear our intentions to escalate activities should we not see and/or be informed of immediate and decisive action. We would also urge you, the concerned viewer, to send an email yourself, expressing concern for the housemates’ health. Similarly, it would also help if you could spread the word regarding this campaign (see below).
Step Two
Ensure that the correct treatment is on hand.
This morning we picked up the following range of treatments from the country’s leading laxative brand, Senokot. The pharmacist quite rightly asked us why we needed so many laxatives, so we explained about the campaign. He was a Big Brother fan, and subsequently really helpful! He confirmed that 6 out 10 constipation sufferers atttribute their condition to ‘changing routine, changing diet and water, or going on holiday/away from home’. He then spent the next five minutes outlining the differences between the products. Which we’re now going to share with you…
Our care package includes:
Senokot Tablets (20 pack and 100 pack)
A single dose at night gives a ‘predictable result by morning’.
Senokot Syrup
This was described as a ‘pleasant fruit flavoured syrup’ suitable for adults and children over 6 years old. So even if Alex has a problem with tablets, relief is but a spoonful away.
Senokot Granules
We liked this product the most. These are chocolate flavoured granules that can be eaten ‘off the spoon, mixed with milk or sprinkled onto food’. We think they’d be pretty yummy on top of ice cream, but he’d have to keep it well clear of Alison.
The above products were then packaged and sent by courier to the producers of the show, along with a letter that, yet again, voices our concerns for Alex and the rest of the housemates. As with the email, the letter also makes clear that, unless action is taken soon, we will have no recourse but to escalate the campaign.
Step Three
Operation Enduring Obstruction
On the same shopping trip, we also picked up some extra tablets and a few tennis balls. Close followers of the show will be aware that it is relatively easy to throw or hit such a projectile well over the security cordon and into the central compound itself.
Our tennis balls, however, will contain a ray of hope. Stuffed inside each ball will be a blister-pack of 20 Senokot tablets and a photocopy of the instructions. Only one need reach a fellow housemate for Alex to finally have access to a more-than-ample course of treatment. There should even be enough left over, even in this single emergency supply, to address the discomfort of a number of other housemates.
We do not wish to encourage this kind of loutish behaviour, but as a housemate is at risk, we don’t see ourselves as having much choice.
UPDATE – We’ve been emailed by yet another helpful pharmacist (what is it with these guys?) who informs us that sending treatments like this in such a fashion could be interpreted as ‘sampling’, which is little bit naughty, apparently. So, no tennis balls.
Frankly, we’re quite relieved. While at the Big Brother house (see below) we got a good look at the layout and saw several good launch positions – but we also got a good look at the size of the security dogs.
Step Four
Operation Overkill
Should our efforts to place the treatments directly in the housemates’ hands fail, and if the producers still refuse to address this issue, we will have no choice but to take our protest further into the public domain. Grass roots action will begin at the evictions themselves, where supporters will be present to not only hand out informative leaflets to concerned fans of the show, but also carry out a formal protest come airtime with chants, placards and at least one dog on a string.
We have the materials and a number of concerned followers on hand for this activity, but if you would also like to take part, we would welcome the support. Email us today.
UPDATE – We were there for Lynne’s eviction. We not only managed to get our main placard on screen twice, but we also got a direct mention from the lovely Davina who pointed out our sign and explained; “I think it has something to do with Alex’s bowels”. (Quite helpful of her, we thought. Perhaps she should think about a career in pharmacy.)
We also handed out hundreds of pamphlets outlining our cause and directing people to the website. We started handing these out with the phrase ‘Help Alex’ and didn’t get many takers, but once we started up with ‘Help Alex’s bowels’, folks couldn’t snap them up quickly enough. We ran out of pamphlets in less than three minutes.
After all of this, we still haven’t heard from the producers, so it looks like we may have to start cooking up a Step Five. We welcome suggestions by email.
How To Support This Campaign
We welcome all levels of support for this campaign. Any or all of the following measures will help us to achieve our goal.
Email a Link To This Page
Even if you don’t have a website or weblog, you can spread the word by emailing a link to this page to your friends and family.
Link To This Page
One of the most powerful things you can do as a site owner or weblogger is link to another site. Doing so by either or both methods below lets your audience know about our campaign.
This first link is your standard ‘go and look at this’ plug. How and where you do this is completely up to you, but you can cut and paste the following to make it easier if you like:
Use Our Protest Button
A nice, eye-catching way to ensure that your audience sees and understands the importance of our mission. Again, all you have to do is cut and paste the following into your weblog.
We appreciate your time, and will be publishing updates here as they happen. May your bowels remain happy and healthy.
[UPDATE - Read about our adventures at the eviction @ Big Brother: The Eviction Experience.]
[FINAL UPDATE - Hooray! Success! Big Brother did give Alex the treatment he required. Out of the choices provided, he chose the syrup and has commented on air at least twice about how tasty it is and how it didn't make his insides explode 'like you see in the movies'. We don't know what kind of movies he's been watching, but we suspect they have something to do with cliched teenage pranks. Hooray for Hollywood and visions of exploding bottoms!]
This site is in no way endorsed or recognised by Endemol, Bazal or Channel 4. You can access the official Big Brother site here.
Tommy Hilfiger vs. Timmy Smellfinger
22nd Mar 2002
It’s no secret that I run more than one site. I happen to be quite involved in Search Engine Optimisation amongst other things, and one thing I do as part of this is run experimental sites to test methods and techniques.
One such site is smellfinger.com
In commercial terms it doesn’t serve much of a purpose beyond its largely academic use as a research tool. Mind you, I nearly always cater such sites to my interests to make the work more appealing.
In this case, the interest is focused on my objection to the commercial and marketing methods of Tommy Hilfiger.
Elitist. Racist. Both words could be used to describe the marketing approach of this label and many others, but in this particular case a decision was made to parody Tommy Hilfiger’s ridiculous advertising and the hedonistic standards that they promote.
I felt that this statement simply wouldn’t have been strong enough unless you were actually able to buy the clothes. Sadly, you can no longer do so through the Smellfinger site as the third party store (CafePress) has suspended my account after receiving notification from representatives of Tommy Hilfiger that the store ‘allegedly contains material which infringes upon her/his copyright rights’.
Oh, really?
First, let’s start with a direct comparison of the two logos:
The first thing you’ll probably notice is that the colours are different. The second is that the words are different. Those with poor vision who can’t read English might not be able to tell the difference, but this combined condition normally only exists within the populace of impoverished third world nations, and we all know that clothing labels like Tommy Hilfiger have no involvement or interest in such places.
Perhaps the people at Tommy Hilfiger think that they hold the copyright of the colours red, white and blue. This being the case, I would like to present some other examples of copyright infringement that they may wish to pursue:
OK, forgetting the colours for a moment, let’s get back to those words and what they represent, shall we?
‘Timmy Smellfinger’; what does this mean? It means that my name is Tim and I think that a certain company stinks. To be more precise, I think that it has blood on its hands. That’s just my opinion, mind you – but one that I have a right to voice, particularly in terms of parody when it comes to fair use. My right to express this in such a way is protected by the Copyright Act of 1976, which clearly states that:
“[I]n order to constitute the type of parody eligible for fair use protection, parody must do more than merely achieve comic effect. It must also make some critical comment or statement about the original work which reflects the original perspective of the parodist–thereby giving the parody social value beyond its entertainment function.”
Let’s look at that logo again:
There’s my name, there’s my statement, and yes, there’s the clear representation of blood on the hands.
As Tommy Hilfiger’s representatives have not contacted me about the removal of the site itself, I might assume one of two things:
- They’re using an easy-to-bully commercial enterprise to enforce a small measure of censorship.
- They are fully aware of my rights under ‘fair use’, so can do nothing about the site, but are of the opinion that, when seen out of context (i.e. on a t-shirt, away from the site) that the Smellfinger logo no longer qualifies as a statement or parody in a legal sense.
If the latter is the case, then I can only say “rubbish”.
It should be perfectly clear that a shirt adorned with the Smellfinger logo is not a Tommy Hilfiger logo, but rather an anti-Hilfiger statement. If anybody is in any doubt about it or requires more information, a URL appears on each item of clothing.
I’m in two minds as to what I should do about this. Sending a counter notice to have my CafePress store reactivated involves all sorts of headaches that I could do without.
Some would argue that I should be happy that I’ve got their attention, and that if the CafePress suspension was their best shot, then I should be happy with it as a result.
UPDATE – Within a month or two, this article was getting better search results and far more traffic than the actual site it was about (probably because Hilfiger’s actions and my published response provided far more useful information than the considerably gentle parody at smellfinger.com) so when the time came around the renew the domain, I simply let the site pass away into the ether.
