Open-Heart Branding

The Perfect Ending

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 09:35:00 +0000

'The only thing I really want is a cop on the beat, like the guy who patrolled the streets when I was growing up.'

In his book Beat Cop To Top Cop, the former Chief of the Miami Police Department, John F. Timoney, writes how this was the one lament he heard repeatedly from community members throughout his long career, whether as a young police officer on foot in the South Bronx in the early 1970s or in Philadelphia and then Miami as he rose through the ranks.

He writes about going in search of this legendary cop, "the one who knew everyone in the neighbourhood and who chastised wayward children and settled disputes between neighbours and family members without ever having to resort to making an arrest" and concludes that he exists only in storybooks and in films. The friendly neighbourhood cop is a myth, but a necessary one, "an ideal that most people have regarding police officers in their communities."

As a former police officer myself, I was intrigued to read of this mythical cop, and realised that it reinforces an idea that I've found to be vital to my new role as brand-builder rather than law enforcer.

I believe that other mythical figures and ideas roam the streets of our neighbourhoods in much the same way as Timoney's legendary cop. Throughout our society, there is a longing too for the inspirational teacher, the kindly shopkeeper and the caring doctor. We picture the white Christmas, the heady days of air-travel, the apple pie just like mother used to make (even when the mother in question was no dab hand at bakery). We are nostalgic for a time when everything was exactly as it should be, and for the people who helped to make it so.

As brand-builders, we need to know and understand the myths and stories that inspire our customers and work towards recreating that ideal world for them. This nostalgia - not alone for the past, but for the imagining of a perfect time - is a vital ingredient of great brands. Whether it is in producing the perfect pint, the classic car or the iconic mobile phone, we must strain towards realising the dream.

It doesn't matter that we can never achieve the ideal. As Timoney notes, "There is nothing wrong with this myth. Most people like police officers or want to like police officers. It is the job of every police officer and every police chief to help make the myth a reality, or at least make the ideal a goal."

In working to make this ideal our goal too, we honour the deepest wishes of our customers and are well on the way to building a brand that helps them to resolve some of the heartfelt conflict in their lives.

When A Brand Turns Sour

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 18:23:00 +0000

It wasn't the boarded up premises that surprised me; it was the signage that had been left in place since the restaurant closed down some two and a half years ago.

Gary Rhodes has worked long and hard to build his reputation as a leading British chef. A quick visit to his website suggests that this is a business-owner who knows the value of a strong brand. Chef, restaurateur, celebrity and author, he owns a range of restaurants and has published almost thirty books.

Yet he continues to allow his name to sit sadly above a failed enterprise, the Rhodes D7 restaurant which briefly threatened to make the Capel Street area a fashionable destination back in 2006. Rhodes slipped out of town without a word in 2009, but the abandoned signage speaks volumes of a brand that's suffering real neglect.

Rhodes is not alone. Brand-owners around town continue to leave their signs to grow shabby and rusted, labelling their own brands as left out in the cold. Is there anything as forlorn as a neglected sign on a run-down premises?

Whilst there is nothing to be ashamed of in a hard-fought failure, it doesn't make any sense at all to continue to attach your label to a forsaken shell.

I wondered whether Rhodes' apparent neglect was simply a legacy of his Dublin landlord? It seems not. A visit to his website reveals content that hasn't been updated since 2009, whilst his online biography continues to make reference to his Dublin restaurant.

There's a lesson in here for all of us brand-owners. A brand that isn't regularly refreshed quickly turns sour.

When It All Adds Up

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 14:11:00 +0000

The decision of my mother, always a canny housekeeper, to shop at higher prices should have confused me, but somehow it didn't.

Growing up in the Dublin of the seventies meant that our family, like others across the city, had to carefully watch our outgoings. I can picture my mother at the kitchen table on a Saturday, doing the household accounts, and carefully balancing each penny earned with every penny spent. We lived comfortably enough, but my parents had to work hard to make those ends meet, and there were few extravagances in our home. While my mother was no natural beancounter, circumstances meant that she had to keep a close eye on what she spent and where she spent it.

And yet she chose to shop at Superquinn, where the prices were noticeably higher than at the local Quinnsworth (now Tesco).

With the sale of Superquinn in the news these past couple of weeks, I'm reminded of the apparently unaccountable behaviour of my mother. And of her neighbours and friends. And of the thousands of others like them across Dublin.

It was Oscar Wilde who said that the cynic is someone who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. Clearly, Mrs. Tannam was no cynic for she knew the price of everything on the shelves of her local supermarkets, but saw the value in shopping at Superquinn.

Superquinn at that time could claim to be one of the truly great Irish brands, one whose achievements were recognised by retailers worldwide. Sometimes, here in Ireland, we don't quite appreciate how Superquinn and its founder Feargal Quinn remain a byword for customer service and innovation overseas amongst those who know a thing or two about shopping. Whilst his more cynical competitors trumpeted the price of everything, this retail pioneer set about creating value at every turn.

Our local Superquinn operated from a cramped premises but somehow Feargal managed to make shopping there a genuinely pleasurable experience. He brought his bakers in-store and filled the aisles with the smell of freshly-baked bread. He told us about the farmers who produced his vegetables (long before 'farm to fork' became such a popular marketing ploy). He introduced leftover food-bins where shoppers could find complimentary bread to feed the ducks in the park and complimentary greens to feed their pet rabbits. But, for my mother, his master-stroke was the decision to remove sweet-displays from beside the checkouts, so as to offer his customers (many of them young mothers with toddlers in tow) a pester-free passage through that last step in the shopping-trip that can so easily end in tears. The significance of this was unmistakable. While others led into temptation, Feargal was the guardian angel, ready to forsake the easy profit of the pressurised or impulse buy.

There were many other innovations, too many to recall or mention, but the bottom line was that the Superquinn customer felt both cared for and valued, and, as a result, was quick to value the Superquinn difference and pay over the odds.

With household economics again demanding that housekeepers everywhere know the price of everything, too many of our retailers (including, sadly, Superquinn) are failing to show us the value in what they offer. They may pay lip-service to the idea but, despite the many innovations made in convenience shopping, they are making cynics of us all.

What a pity, for there is great profit to be made by those who are prepared to invest in making shopping a joyful experience and great benefits to be enjoyed by those who are invited to see the extraordinary value in it.

The Queen She Came To Call On Us

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Mon, 23 May 2011 07:37:00 +0000

He thought he saw a buffalo, upon the chimney-piece.
He looked again, and found it was his sister's husband's niece.
'Unless you leave this house,' he said, 'I'll send for the police'
from The Mad Gardener's Song, by Lewis Carroll

He thought he saw a sweet old lady admiring the gardens by the river, but when he looked again, this mad gardener found it was a wise monarch healing the divisions between her people and the peoples of this island.

Islandbridge, indeed.

By any account, this has been an extraordinary week in our island life, and each of us here has been moved in their own way by the words and deeds of Queen Elizabeth as she made friends and deeply influenced people. Her visit had added resonance for me, as it put Islandbridge, the place for which I named my business, firmly on the map, and for so many good reasons.

For most people, Islandbridge is an unfamiliar part of Dublin, its name only heard in occasional traffic reports. Many people would struggle to say where it is exactly. For me, there are strong family associations with the place. My dad played there in the fields and worked in the market gardens as a boy, and rowed on the river above the bridge as a young man. I was born a long stone's throw from the spot, and remember crossing it with friends to get to the playground of the Phoenix Park beyond.

When it came time to name my new business back in 2004, I knew I wanted to locate it by land and water (for enterprise has always sprung up in these places). As I crossed over landscapes in my mind, I naturally came to the banks of the legendary river of the city where I was born, and walked its length, stopping briefly to consider Leixlip (or Salmon's Leap, which struck me as a bold name for a new business) before coming to rest at Islandbridge.

(You'll appreciate that I gave neither Ballsbridge or Butt Bridge a second's thought...)

I liked Islandbridge for all of the childhood associations they held for me, but most of all because it seemed to me to indicate something of what we do for our customers. There is a gap between buyer and seller, and it is the task of the brand-builder to bridge it.

But of course a brand does so much more. It takes nothing at face value but helps the trader to look beyond the thing itself to understand what it means for the other person. And in understanding what that means, the brand honours it. That for me is why the visit of a sweet old lady to my Islandbridge is even more powerful.

She understands that she is not just any old lady. She understands too that she is not even any old monarch. She is someone who stands for so much more in these islands. For some of us, she is the familiar face of a once-oppressive regime. For others, she represents the core of their cultural heritage, the head of their church and the source of their identity. Others again see her as a dinosaur, a relic of another age with no relevance in this.

But this week, she stood for something else again, something that really matters. This week, she played the part of healer, acknowledging the hurtful divisions, and somehow rendering them less painful, less relevant. In honouring our dead, and charming our living, she helped us to find a way to connect again with these neighbours of ours who are so maddeningly like us and so maddeningly not like us. Which is, of course, the case in all extended families.

She also changed for me the meaning of my Islandbridge, and made it even sweeter, more significant and more powerful. For if a little old lady can make such an important gesture at Islandbridge, what can a mad gardener do for the courageous entrepreneurs who make their way to that place?

He thought he saw a queen of hearts, bow down before the flowers.
He looked again, and found it was a crown with healing powers.
'If she mends hearts,' he did declare, 'we'll make her one of ours.'
(with apologies to Lewis Carroll)

On The Same Wavelength

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Wed, 27 Apr 2011 06:43:00 +0000

Over the years, I've flirted with the idea of developing a sales process for Islandbridge, but have been reluctant to commit over concerns that selling in a systematic way would somehow make for an artificial exchange with prospective customers.

More recently, our work with Ronan Kilroy of Focalpoint has seen us finally embrace the requirement to plan, prepare and rehearse for sales meetings to great effect, but I still struggle at times to shake off the sense that such an approach is somehow wooden or insincere.

Ronan often talks of the need to gauge and mirror your prospect's communication style - to be animated if they're lively, slow and deliberate if they're inclined to be unhurried and thoughtful and so on - and this 'mirror' approach has always struck me as contrived, almost disrespectful. Isn't it more important to bring your own natural approach to any conversation rather than parody the style of your companion?

But of course, that's not what Ronan means.

Listening to him speak again on the topic at a Venture Network event on Friday, I suddenly understood how it works. I pride myself on my own lively approach to discussion and, as I thought about how that would go down in different scenarios, a picture flashed into my mind of a good friend who's just received bad news and is struggling to absorb it. Normally, he and I are well-matched sparring partners and our exchanges are full of banter and playful insults. Of course, I wouldn't rush up to him with my usual gusto, given his current distress; instead, I'd temper my enthusiasm and adapt to his mood and style in order to be able to relate better to him in his difficulty.

And it's the same in business. If we see ourselves as problem-solvers and are genuinely interested in helping our customers fix their problems, then we must adapt to them and how they see the world. There's no parody in this, only respect.

If we insist on our own usual style, there's a very real danger that we seem insincere and interested only in our own point of view. When we get on the same wavelength as our customer, however, we're far more likely to strike the right pitch and get to a real understanding of whether what we've got to offer is a good fit for what they want.

Over To You: What do you think of mirroring your customer (and other approaches to building rapport and winning new business)?

Try To See It Your Way

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 12:05:00 +0000

You don't have to work with me for too long to know how much importance I place on seeing things from the point of view of your customer.

Simply put, I believe great brands always take the customer as their starting-point, as it helps them to meet their requirements much more effectively. But a recent chat with one of our clients has persuaded me of another great reason for getting to know your customer better: it can quickly rid you of any sense of entitlement. And a sense of entitlement is one of the great enemies to truly remarkable customer care.

I was reviewing customer research with Tomas Conefrey of Conefrey's Pharmacy in Dublin, and discussing the various strengths and weaknesses of his offer when compared with competing pharmacies in the area and seen from the point of view of his customer. Now this 'warts and all' exercise already demands a certain humility on the part of the business-owner. None of us likes to hear about the shortcomings in what we do. But Tomas took it a significant step further.

He remarked that it was only by looking at his own offer and those of his rivals from the far side of the counter that he'd started to truly appreciate why a customer might choose to buy from someone else. Previously, when a customer went somewhere else, he'd felt a little aggrieved or let-down, but putting himself in their shoes helped him to make sense of their choice. After all, if he wasn't offering them what they wanted, why wouldn't they go elsewhere?

His frankness prompted me to think back to my own recent experience, when a company in Galway that we were hoping to do business with chose a local brand-builder instead. Although I like to think of myself as magnanimous in defeat, my nose was immediately put out of joint when I got the news. Why hadn't they told us that being local was likely to count for more when they'd invited us to tender for the business? I found myself growing more and more annoyed that they'd made their choice on what seemed to me to be an unfair basis.

But when I put myself in their shoes as Tomas had done, I saw things differently. All other things being broadly equal, I'd prefer to do business with a local company too. It's much simpler after all. So why wouldn't they choose a neighbour, someone they could meet with easily and at short notice if required, maybe even known to them directly through a business network? They'd made the right choice for them, even if it was one that didn't suit me.

For our part, we'd simply failed to demonstrate any compelling reason to do business with us rather than a local firm. That wasn't their fault; it was ours. Next time, we needed to do better.

By stepping into the shoes of our customer, both Tomas and I saw the world differently, and were able to move past the sometimes self-absorbed point of view of the shop-keeper who sees things only from their side of the counter. Most importantly, we lost that sense of entitlement that can dog customer-care and send mixed messages to those making a choice as to what to buy.

When we recognise that our role in business is to help our customer make the right choice for them (rather than one that simply suits us) then it changes everything.

So step out from behind the shop-counter and onto the shop-floor. You'll see things better from there.

Beauty (And The Beastly Tweet)

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 13:43:00 +0000

One of the hazards of being a brand-watcher in a world of Google alerts is that I know much more than I care to of the antics of a certain Russell Brand. But sometimes this walking, (never stops) talking, living brand has something to offer brand-builders by way of a cautionary lesson.

My daily updates this week have been a-twitter with Brand's latest exploit which reportedly has wife Katy on the warpath. Apparently, her thoughtful husband snapped a not-so-flattering picture of Katy as she awoke and posted it to Twitter for his 1 million-plus followers to enjoy. Katy, unsurprisingly, was less than pleased to be pictured without her customary war-paint, and although Russell promptly deleted the picture from his account, the damage was done as celebrity watchers and news organisations around the world gleefully published the image through other channels.

Now, poor Katy looks no worse than any of us caught unawares first thing in the morning, but of course that's not the point. More than most of us, Katy relies heavily on presenting a gilded image to the world, and it hardly helps her cause to be seen looking less than glamorous, whatever the circumstances.

As it happens, I've been doing a lot of work of late with clients who help their customers to make a strong impression on the world, whether through fitness, dress or design, and we've had a number of discussions on the merits of 'before and after' shots to demonstrate the impact they've had on the face their customers present to the world.

Whilst there's no doubting the power of 'before and after' to illustrate cause and effect, I've got very strong concerns about using 'before' shots of customers, which have been borne out by what's happened to poor Katy Brand. It always seems to me to be patronising to talk of our customers as though we brought them down drooling from the mountains, and shaved, scrubbed and suited them, before showing them off to the world, Eliza Doolittle to our Professor Henry Higgins.

It's evident from the glee which greeted Katy's picture that this brutal 'before' shot only feeds the popular tendency to make mortals of our gods. When we're in the business of helping customers to reinvent themselves in some way, it really doesn't help to show them first in an unflattering light. Of course, we want to demonstrate the impact we've had on them, but much better to find a way that illustrates how we helped bring out the best in them, rather than suggest we've cured them of the ailment of being themselves.

As for poor Katy, I've chosen to use a picture of her looking her best to illustrate this post. The more prurient amongst you might prefer the dreaded 'before' shot, but somehow I don't care to add to the thoughtlessness of this particular Brand.

Simply Remarkable: Brooks Hotel

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 11:37:00 +0000

Arriving early for a meeting in the city-centre, I had half an hour to kill, so stopped by Brooks Hotel on Dublin's Drury Street for a coffee. Like most hotels at that hour of the morning, Brooks was in full breakfast swing, and I expected to be told that I'd have to choose the whole buffet option if I wanted to enjoy a table in the lounge. But no, a very friendly waiter welcomed me in, set a table for one and offered to fetch me a freshly-made coffee and scone.

Whilst I didn't want the self-service option of the buffet, I also didn't expect to be waited on so attentively, and so I braced myself for a suitably punitive bill (most likely to be a huge chunk of the full buffet tariff if my experience at other hotels was anything to go by). But again no. Instead, the smiling waiter handed me the invoice with a flourish and told me she'd charged me a special rate, which I saw compared very well with the coffee & pastry deals on offer in coffee-shop chains elsewhere in the city.

How refreshing! Whilst it seems that some hotels have failed to learn the lessons of our recent economic trials, Brooks Hotel has taken a practical and thoughtful approach to the solitary guest who stops by to enjoy a brief moment of their hospitality. What a simple but remarkable way to make a visitor feel welcome.

Naturally, I'll be back, and as importantly, I'll be recommending Brooks to friends and colleagues looking for a friendly haven from the chilly weather on Dublin's streets.

Over To You: Where have you recently enjoyed service that was 'simply remarkable'?

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 14:10:00 +0000

So, who's the fairest of them all?

Wikipedia founder, Jimmy Wales, has some interesting advice for brand-owners concerned with their online image: "Make stuff that doesn't suck."

As the focus of so much marketing and sales effort moves online, this cautionary note from the man behind one of the internet's most popular sites (398 million unique monthly visitors at the last count) is more than a little timely.

Social media in particular has encouraged a kind of narcissism, which often has business-owners more concerned with how their face is reflected in the various mirrors that surround them, than with the quality of what they do for their customers.

Off-line, a shopkeeper is unlikely to squeal with delight that, "I've had fifty-five people glance in my shop-window as they passed by today. Fifty-five! That's a whole five more than yesterday." On-line however, a certain hysteria seems to accompany the number of followers, fans and likes that a site or page attracts, which often proves an unhelpful diversion from the real business in hand: "Am I making a product or offering a service that people really want or need?"

In a recent Fast Company Article, Wales suggests that, "more than ever before, people like to talk about stuff that sucks. There's nothing to be done about it, except making a better product.

Of course, it's important to listen to what people have to say about you, but not if it distracts you to the point where it becomes all about the appearance of doing a good job, rather than taking care of the job itself.

Coming from a man who's certainly not short of online admirers, Wales' advice should encourage us all to stop preening, tear ourselves away from our reflected image and concentrate on what we're doing for our customers instead.

For not even the original mirror-gazer herself, the selfish Queen and stepmother to Snow White, ever heard the answer she craved most, when she turned to her reflection to ask: 'Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?'

Stop Shouting, Harvey, I Can't Hear You

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sun, 17 Oct 2010 10:07:00 +0000

Go, Harvey, Go (& don't let the door hit you on the way out).

I'm so used to hearing international retailer Harvey Norman bawling at me from the radio in an irritating Australian accent that I've tuned out from his messages.

Even when he tried something new this morning, speaking in an unexpectedly reasonable tone to promote a special holiday offer, I was unimpressed. It seemed so incongruous, this personality who seems only interested in interrupting at the top of his hysterical voice, suddenly speaking calmly and in measured tones.

Sorry, Harvey, you just can't win. It doesn't work for me when you shout, and it makes me decidedly nervous when you try to appear calm and reasonable, like a nutcase trying to persuade me that he doesn't pose a threat.

At least when you were screaming hysterically, I knew where I stood. Now, I'm just confused and uneasy.

Over To You: Are you left disconcerted by brands that show worrying signs of split personality?

Sticking To The Script

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 05:49:00 +0000

Some of my colleagues at a network event were arguing the merits or otherwise of a sales script. Those in favour maintained that working to a scripted formula enabled the seller to guide the conversation with the buyer to mutual advantage whilst those against thought working from a script made for a staged and insincere exchange between the two parties.

Certainly, my first reaction was to reject the use of a script; I felt that it wouldn't allow for a natural conversation to occur and might lead to the buyer being maniupulated in some way. But thinking about it some more as I listened to the debate, I decided that it might make sense for the seller to take the lead so long as the customer's interests were safeguarded.

In my own experience, it can be both helpful and fun to be taken in hand by a skilful salesperson and carefully guided towards making the right purchase. Think of the waiter who directs you through the details of the menu or the tailor who knows what just what questions to ask as he helps you choose what clothes to wear for the big event.

When you think about it, we have an odd mistrust of the scripted conversation. It's as though we only trust spontaeneity. Yet some of the most influential exchanges in the world have been carefully scripted and rehearsed for maximum effect. Barack Obama's 'Yes, We Can' was certainly staged, whilst Winston Churchill's painstaking preparation for his landmark speeches was legendary.

Closer to home, I was struck recently by how the late actor Mick Lally (who played Miley in TV's long-running soap, Glenroe, as well as being a founder of Druid Theatre) was held in such high regard for his decency and immediacy, as well as his great acting talent, despite the fact that few of us had ever heard him utter a word that wasn't carefully scripted.

Like all the great performers and communicators, Lally used the script to both explore and express something deeper and more personal than words, and there's no good reason why a carefully made sales script can't do the same.

If we take it as read that the purpose of a brand is to help the buyer make the right choice, it stands to reason that we can draw on our experience to script our exchange with the customer in a way that guides us both towards an understanding of whether or not there's a match between what the buyer wants and what we offer for sale.

Of course, there are occasions where spontaneity is what's required, but the more I think about it, I'm all for sticking to the script.

Confessions Of A Turncoat

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 19:13:00 +0000

The Liam McCarthy Cup

Round here, we've just had the first of our two annual All-Ireland Finals; it being the first Sunday in September, it was the turn of hurling, with Gaelic football to follow in two weeks' time.

I had no vested interest in the game, but like many others was fascinated by the prospect of a truly exceptional Kilkenny team (some say the best ever to play the game) securing their fifth title in a row.

Usually, I side with the underdog, but this time was different. It seemed only fitting that this team would be the first in either sporting code to go beyond four in a row (I had been at Croke Park myself many years ago when a last-gasp effort denied a great Kerry football team that unique distinction) and I felt that the "Cats' drive for five" deserved to be rewarded against an unremarkable Tipperary team that weren't given much hope of causing an upset.

As I settled onto the sofa to watch the game, I felt that both my heart and head were for Kilkenny, and sat back to enjoy the supreme skills and inevitable procession of scores that would lead to the coronation of these kings of kings.

And then something extraordinary happened. The sliotar was thrown in to the usual opening melee and as the two sides locked horns and went at it to furiously gouge out that first score, I found my allegiance had shifted in an instant. Now, as I watched the commoners forget their supposed place in the order of things, I bayed instead for the head of the king, and cheered on the gallant usurper.

Oh, fickle sports-fan. As I watched this suddenly-remarkable Tipperary team turn the world upside down (they went on to win the match by a considerable margin), I wondered to myself how often our customers settle down to buy something in their heads, and leave with something entirely different in their hearts.

As brand-builders, we can trust too much in the supposed order of things, the logical outcome or proper result, whilst impulses much older and far greater than reason or due reward, wield their influence on our customers. In this case, the age-old instinct to root for the underdog.

Much better to trust to the heartfelt impulses, I think.

When Might's Not Right

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 08:09:00 +0000

"Any advertisement in public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It belongs to you. It's yours to take, re-arrange, and re-use. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head." Banksy, Street Artist

Like many mothers and fathers, I suspect, I'm ashamed to say that I sometimes fall into the 'Don't argue with me, young man / lady' -school of parenting; a sort of lazy, might-is-right, my-way-or-the-highway approach to making and enforcing the rules of the household.

It might surprise my children to learn that this apparently unbending defender of virtue, good manners and tidy bedrooms has more than a sneaking regard for street-artist Banksy, a figure dismissed as a delinquent and vandal in some quarters. And that, although I'm distinctly uncomfortable with much of what passes as street-art and the defacing of public buildings, I see a certain amount of good sense in what he has to say about the imposition of advertising messages on people in public places.

Now, I'm not suggesting that Citizen Tannam is about to storm the billboards of Dublin town armed with aerosol can and black marker, but I do think that brand-builders of all sizes (and particularly those with a budget that enables them to commandeer public spaces) need to think long and hard about how we pitch to customers, particularly when our messages are uninvited.

Of course, many of the new media channels allow the customer to opt-in or out of receiving promotional messages, but even when we're pitching to the unwilling, we need to be respectful of the customer and seek as far as possible to speak only to those who need our product or service. Or we need to at least make sure that our message adds something to the shared conversations in that public space.

Humour is often used in this way to prompt a smile from both targets and passers-by but, on the whole, messages that are socially-aware and inclusive bring something to the street in a way that make them less likely to be the target of Banksy and his fellow-artists, who understandably feel that many brand-owners are inclined to ram our marketing messages down their throats.

So, no more my-way-on-the-highway for this parent and brand-owner.

Over To You: Do you think messages in public places are fair game for confiscation and revision by those on the receiving end?

Branding Starts With The Customer

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 04:42:00 +0000

Having difficulty knowing where to start when it comes to branding?

Here's my take on it from an article I wrote for The Hub on AllAboutBusiness.ie

My customers sometimes tell me that the thing they find most difficult about branding is knowing where to start. And I know exactly what they mean.

When we look at the big brands, the celebrity brands, the ones that make the headlines, it seems that they ooze a power and charisma that’s way beyond the reach of a mere mortal brand. Our own efforts can appear grey and mundane by comparison and we can despair of ever finding something remarkable to say about what it is we do for our customer.

But for most of us, life isn’t a glamorous whirl of parties and high society, and just as I don’t look to the celebrities of cinema and sport for clues on how to lead my own life, I don’t recommend that you look to celebrity brands for guidance on how to build your own brand.

Instead, I suggest that you start with your customer and the problems they face and work from there. All business begins when somebody has something to sell that solves a problem for someone else. This is the basis of your brand, the reason why a customer will choose what you have to offer over what’s for sale elsewhere. The purpose of a brand is to make this obvious to your customer, so that they naturally and easily choose you as their favourite supplier.

So the first question we must ask when we brand is: What problem does my product (or service) solve for someone else?

Too often, we don’t even get that far. We’re so proud of what we have to offer that we don’t bother to ask why that should matter enough to someone else that they would be prompted to pay for it. If we don’t make it obvious to our prospective customer that we will help them to fix something in their lives that’s broken, or replace something that’s missing, then our product won’t attract their attention or win them over.

When we make it clear what problem we fix for our customers, then we can go on to say how we do it in a way that’s better than how our competitors do it.

So how does this work in practice?

Say, for example, that you’re an accountant offering the usual mix of financial services. You’re surrounded by other accountants, most of whom have studied at the same institute as you and have the same qualifications. Now look at the situation from the point of view of the difficulty facing your prospective customer. Their problem is not in finding a suitably qualified accountant. They’re spoiled for choice. You’re going to have to work a little harder if you’re going to stand out from the crowd.

Say that you get talking to that prospective customer and you learn that they find meeting their accountant to review annual accounts a frustrating and demoralising experience. They tell you that this has nothing to do with the actual accounts, just the whole experience of looking at numbers that they don’t really understand.

For them, this is the real problem. It’s also an opportunity for you. You might determine that you will be an accountant who helps your customer get on top of the numbers. Now you have a real problem to fix for your customer and a real basis for branding, a reason why prospective customers might choose you over other accountants.

So when my customers tell me that they don’t know where to start when it comes to branding, I tell them to start at the very beginning. Start with your customer and ask them what problems they face in their lives. When you’ve identified a problem that you can help them fix, you have the basis for your brand.

Down In The Mouth

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 11:09:00 +0000

Am just back from holidays in France where part of the attraction for many years has been the way in which the French seem to get their food offerings so effortlessly right, both in terms of what they put on the plate and what they charge for it.

As a result, we've sat on benches and scoffed delicious baguettes, topped with little more than fresh ham, butter and mayonnaise, relaxed over linen tablecloths and elaborately prepared local specialities, dined alfresco on the open space beside our accommodation on the pates, cold cuts, rillettes and salads bought at the local supermarket or eaten crispy pizza washed down with local rose at canteen tables overlooking the harbour.

It doesn't seem to matter where in France we travel; the food is always good and the prices always fair.

So it was a big shock to us to find ourselves in a place these last couple of weeks which flew in the face of all that is good about French food. Beside the swimming pool in Pont Royal where we spent some of our days enjoying the sun and water, there was an outlet which looked like it would provide some tasty snack food, French-style, for those days when we couldn't be bothered to hike back to our apartment to make lunch.

The signs advertised organic food (which might have given us a hint of what to expect, because the French above all have rarely felt the need to promote the credentials of their food) and whilst it seemed a little pricey, we reasoned that it couldn't hurt us to splash out every so often for the convenience of quality food on the hoof.

What a disappointment! We tried it only the once and that was more than enough. The food, a mix of bland barbecued meats and fresh vegetables, was dumped on paper plates by the dour owner-chefs, who seemed to have little interest in whether it appealed or not.

This take-it-or-leave-it approach was so unexpected in a country where food always seems such a joy, that it prompted me to wonder about other sectors where the owners seem to believe that provenance alone should justify high prices, poor service and bad attitude.

It's not only restauranteurs who seem to make this mistake; I've found it too amongst software developers, car dealers and fashion retailers.

Maybe it's an easy mistake for any of us to make from behind the counter: the belief that our product should speak for itself rather than eloquently charm the customer. Judging from the efforts they made to win us over, the owners of the food outlet couldn't have cared less whether we enjoyed their food. Our solitary, cheerless experience was one that we didn't wish to repeat and so we ignored their offer for the remainder of our holiday and enjoyed our own (very tasty) picnic lunch instead.

There were no winners here. They lost customers whilst we had the thankfully rare experience of French food that left a bad taste in the mouth.

In Others' Words

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 10:23:00 +0000

Have you noticed the chorus of testimonials appearing in advertisments over the past few months?

Whilst there's always been great power in a third-party endorsement, it seems that customer trust in what brands have to say for themselves has dropped to such a degree that many business-owners now see other's words as the only way to build any credibility in the marketplace.

Here in Ireland, many of our banks, radio stations and insurers are making their own customers the stars of their advertising efforts, and despite my own misgivings about some of these businesses, I find this approach more convincing than most. After all, if a customer is ready to vouch for the seller, then there has to be some merit in what's on offer.

Despite this being an approach that makes sense, it's extraordinary how few businesses use it in developing their brands. Instead, they waste their time and ours telling us how long they've been in business and boasting about how wonderful they are. Frankly, I'm not interested. As a potential customer, I want to know whether what's on offer matches what I need and whether I'm likely to get exactly what I want once I put my money down. Hearing it in a customer's own words reassures me on both counts.

Perhaps brand-owners are too shy to ask a favour of their customers? They shouldn't be. In my experience, a satisfied customer is only too happy to speak up on behalf of a favourite supplier. You only have to ask.

Way Past Bedtime

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 12:23:00 +0000

How far can you take brand loyalty?

Earlier this month, we went to see one of our favourite musicians, Natalie Merchant, at Dublin's Helix Theatre. We've been listening to the music of the one-time 10,000 Maniacs vocalist for some time now, since she went solo back in 1994 with Tigerlily; and as far as we were concerned, she's one of the world greats, a true original who can do no wrong.

The singer was in Dublin to promote her latest recording, Leave Your Sleep, a series of children's poems set to music, and given her gorgeous reworkings of traditional songs on The House Carpenter's Daughter, we thought we were in for a real treat.

Instead, we had to sit through a mini-lecture on the poets who wrote the original rhymes and on Merchant's songwriting process, complete with slideshow portraits, and interspersed with what felt like only snatches of song. Even the author didn't seem terribly interested in what she had to say or sing, delivering her seminar with a take-it-or-leave-it attitude that suggested she herself found the format less than compelling.

What was remarkable about the evening was the good humoured indulgence of the audience, many of whom faced a long trip home before bedtime and sat half-dozing through the slideshow. It seems that the artist has built up such loyalty in her brand that we were prepared to allow her this sleepwalk through her latest project, like old friends sitting uncomplainingly through pictures of first day at school, scenes at the beach, and darlings in first holy communion splendour, stifling a yawn but too polite to make excuses and leave.

Only towards the end of the evening did we grow audibly restless, and the singer responded by finishing with five of her crowd-favourites, which brought the audience to its feet and sent us out into the night finally feeling we'd been at a concert. Or perhaps she'd always intended to reward us for our patience?

Speaking with friends afterwards, it seems that everyone there was similarly disappointed with most of the evening and I found myself wondering whether a brand can take uncomplaining loyalty too far.

Of course, Natalie Merchant is not the first artist to test her faithful's patience in this way. I remember hearing stories of Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen and other greats, wilfully refusing to indulge their audiences when they had a new project to promote. Something about the set of Merchant's jaw, even from the distance of the thirty feet or so that separated us, suggested that she too was not inclined to pick up on the restless cues of her audience.

Those of us who work hard to build a devoted following for our brand can count on a certain tolerance from our customers but when this spills over into self-indulgence even the greatest loyalists will have their doubts.

No more bedtime stories for me, thanks!

Devaluing The Customer

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sun, 30 May 2010 10:13:00 +0000

'As one of our valued customers...'

I was tempted to stop reading at this point and bin the letter, but I knew no harm was intended, so continued on reluctantly.

Now I know it's well-meaning, but I find being addressed in this way is a real turn-off. The thought of being someone else's 'valued customer' puts me in mind of an oily huckster, rubbing his hands in glee at the prospect of another quick buck.

In the same way as I don't like to be called 'my friend' by a perfect stranger or 'pal' by someone whose angry tone tells me I'm anything but, the idea of being the 'valued customer' of a brand leaves me cold. Whilst I understand the sentiment (the company wants to tell me that my business matters to them), it's awkward and more likely to drive a wedge between me and them than to bring us any closer.

It's much better for a brand to lose the pompous, over-friendly language and choose words instead that better reflect the real relationship it enjoys with me.

Something along the lines of 'your business is important to us', backed up with evidence of how they value my custom is much more likely to win me over and keep me with them until the end of the message. As it was, only good manners stopped me from tearing up the letter and despatching it to the bin.

Over To You: What type of language from brands leaves you cold?

Stealing The Riches To Leave Us The Poorer

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sun, 16 May 2010 14:17:00 +0000

We were robbed!

Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe's hugely disappointing Robin Hood has raided the classic tale, stripped it of its valuables and left it for dead under the greenwood. The film had looked like the perfect family outing: a director / actor combination that we'd all loved in Gladiator, a great supporting cast, and above all, the promise of a new take on an epic story that always thrills no matter how often we've heard it told before.

But this was no Robin Hood. Sure, he was there in name, as were his merry men, alongside King Richard (briefly), Prince John and the rather nondescript Sheriff of Nottingham. And there was some token taking from the rich but only to give to the hard done by gentry. Yet where was the ingenious rascal, taking on the might of the stolen crown in a series of daring escapades, stunts and rescues? Where, in particular, were the rapier-sharp exchanges between our dashing outlaw and his dastardly and scheming opponent, the Sheriff of Nottingham?

Now, I know these can be (and have been) overdone, but they are at the heart of the charm of Robin Hood.

Instead, this Robin Hood plays like a greener Braveheart or a more sociable Maximus. Meanwhile, his enemies are weak, greedy and disloyal, rather than really bad. The result is a paler, dappled version that lacks the essential appeal of the great story that has persisted in one form or another since at least the early days of the last millennium.

On its own terms, this probably wasn't a bad film but we felt robbed of the promise held out in its title. Whilst the new story was engaging enough at times, by the end we didn't feel as though we really cared about what happened to Robin, Marian and the others. They didn't stand for anything important and the film played like a worthy piece of history rather than the great sweeping epic of yore.

This isn't just about a film that disappoints. There's a lesson in there for any of us who set out to tell a great story through branding. When you find a good yarn, it's up to you to tell it. Stick to your story and don't depart from it just to appear more relevant or interesting.

For my money, this Robin Hood stole one of the richest names in history, messed up the storytelling, and left us the poorer for it. Shame on you, Messrs. Scott and Crowe.

Low Fare, High Society

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 11:52:00 +0000

Somebody somewhere has the unenviable task of teaching Mr. Michael O'Leary how to 'smile nice and talk pretty'.

At least, I'm guessing as much with the recent news from our client Ian Cleary over at Razorcoast that Ryanair is finally flying the social media route. True to form however, the airline isn't joining in anyone else's community. No, it's planning to set up a private group for travellers to communicate with one another and with Ryanair.

Here's Ryanair spokesman Stephen McNamara's take on social media:

“Smaller airlines trying to gain market share may engage with it, but from our point of view, being so big, it would take a lot of resource,” he said. “We don’t have people sitting around to answer questions. With social media you get any and every query and a lot of rubbish, like people asking if they can bring a 10kg bag, which of course you can. The information is there on our site.”

Whilst some industry analysts have taken this latest online move as an indication that Ryanair is opening up to its community, I'm not so sure. Its attitude to mixing with customers is more more likely reflected in its announcement last year that "it is Ryanair's policy not to waste time and energy corresponding with idiot bloggers."

Hmm, not much smiling nice and talking pretty there.

It seems to me, that given the influence that Ryanair has on its customers, a community of its passengers could be a fairly hostile place, with people jumping queues, ignoring each other and shouting one another down.

In a previous post some years ago, I suggested that Ryanair seems to bring out the worst in people, both cabin crew and customers, so it's hard to take seriously the notion that the airline is planning to socialise with its customers in any way.

Whilst I never underestimate Michael O'Leary and his ability to commandeer a slot for the airline, I can't see Ryanair managing to put the social into high society.

Over To You: Do you think Ryanair can successfully fly the social media route through its new Ryanair community?

A Fear Of Shopping

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 14:21:00 +0000

This article first appeared on Bloggertone, a great resource for people in business.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the marketplace…

At first glance, you could easily make the mistake of thinking that everything was normal. On the surface, there appears to be a lot of activity. People are milling about, shaking hands, exchanging cards and talking business. Sometimes, one meeting leads to another and then to an invitation to send on more information or submit a proposal. But more often than not, it just leads to another meeting.

Then it hits you what’s not normal about this marketplace: It seems everyone’s a seller. There’s a great buzz out there but it’s terribly one-sided. People are pitching like crazy but hardly anyone is buying.

If money makes the world go round, this world has come shuddering to a halt.

And then a terrifying thought strikes with the suddenness of a great white: What if this is the new normal?

When you think about it, it’s not so surprising that buyers are in fear of shopping. Like day-trippers at the beach after a shark attack, it’s going to take something special to coax them back into the water.

Simply calling out to them to ‘Come in, the water’s beautiful’ isn’t going to do it. Not whilst the memory of the earlier carnage is still strong.

Of course, there’s not so much money floating about anymore, but it’s much more than that. There’s been a whole breakdown in trust between seller and buyer and nobody feels safe anymore. The ancient warning ‘Buyer beware’ rings out across the surface and never seemed more apt.

So what are you going to do about it?

In many ways, it’s ridiculously simple. You need to address the fears of your customers head-on. There’s no point in pretending nothing’s happened. There’s blood in the water and, as far as your customer is concerned, it’s sellers just like you who preyed on the unwary and spilt it there.

Using the same discredited language as those other sellers doesn’t help. That only confuses things further. You’ve got to find a new way to pitch your wares, a way that dispenses with the hype and rings true for your customer.

Dazzling them with science doesn’t help either. At a time when your customer doubts their own good judgement, it’s up to you to keep it plain and simple. Toss out the jargon and make your offer in layman’s terms.

As you’ll have guessed, this is no time for smoke and mirrors. When people feel safe, a certain mystery or intrigue can work wonders by adding some excitement to the mix. But in troubled times, mysterious gestures or vague promises become furtive and unsettling. Don’t be obscure or ambiguous. Instead, bring everything out into the open.

Be open too about your own motives in making the sale. When buyers have been savaged by offers that were too good to be true, there’s something powerfully reassuring about a deal that clearly adds up for both sides. Your exchange with your customer should work for you both, so don’t be coy about what’s in it for you.

Take the risk out of doing business with you for your customer wherever you can. Clearly display your terms of business and underpin your offer with a solid guarantee. Reassure your customer that you’re genuinely committed to making things work and are prepared to back that up with action.

But above all, be patient. Remember that your customer’s fear of shopping is well placed. It’s not so long since the waters turned red in a frenzy of bloodletting. Whatever you do, don’t rush your customer.

It’s up to you now to make those waters safe, and show them to be safe, in order that buyers can confidently take the plunge again and rediscover their love of shopping.

Postbank: Not So Simple After All

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 15:30:00 +0000

It's all too easy to be cynical when we hear the news of the failure of another brand.

Only three years ago, Postbank's promise of banking that's "as simple as it should be" seemed too good to be true for those of us raised on a system of anything-but-straightforward borrowing and lending, even before it had become fully apparent how other banks had tied us all up in knots thanks to their devious machinations.

Their charming TV Ad promised to do without the 'terribly grand' but unnecessary trappings of traditional banking and offered instead a "community-based bank built on a commitment to make banking and insurance accessible to everyone, throughout Ireland."

Why, they even opened on a Saturday!

Now, we learn that partners in the venture, An Post and BNP Parisbas Fortis, have decided that the operation is no longer viable and are dismantling it at the end of the year.

But let's not allow this failed effort to disillusion us. As customers, we all deserve banking that's 'as simple as it should be', and it's up to us to put pressure on the other banks to make personal and commercial banking more straightforward.

And we shouldn't stop with Postbank, of course. No entrepreneur that I've ever met set out to offer a mediocre service or product. Even a beaten brand will often embody something worth fighting for, and its defeat despite a valiant effort shouldn't discourage us from taking up the cause. O'Brien's Sandwich Bars continue to deserve credit for setting the standard much higher than the 'limp lettuce and hang sangwich' on offer before their arrival. And 'Ceol - The Traditional Irish Music Centre' still strikes me as an inspired and brave effort to celebrate a glorious tradition some years after its disappearance from Smithfield in Dublin.

Simply because economic pressures prevail shouldn't mean that we settle for second-rate. Instead, we should be inspired by the lofty ambitions of our brand-makers and continue to demand only the best from those who offer goods and services for sale in the marketplace.

And as for us brand-makers, setting out to make an offer 'as simple as it should be' probably isn't a bad place to start.

Over To You: Which fallen brands continue to inspire you at work or at play?

Starbucks' Blend Leaves A Bitter Taste

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 08:32:00 +0000

What a disappointment when a poster child brand fails so badly and so visibly. It really hurts the credibility of all brands in the marketplace and seems to confirm the opinion of the many sceptics out there that it's all just 'smoke and mirrors' anyway.

Visiting Starbucks in the Beacon South Quarter, Dublin on Friday afternoon, I was disgusted to see every empty table in the place littered with the debris of half-empty cups, discarded wrappers and, in many cases, unfinished muffins and sandwiches. A number of the upholstered chairs were spoiled by ingrained crumbs and pieces of sandwich filling and arriving customers were obliged to clear a table and wipe down the seats before enjoying their own coffee. At the table next to mine, a guy spilt left-over coffee on his laptop as he tried to make space amongst the rubbish.

What a far cry from the cool and comfortable 'third place' that Starbucks likes to sell to coffee-lovers worldwide. And what a slap in the face for both its customers and those of us who are in the business of building brands.

As it happens, I had just finished reading a short article from Warren Baxter of Vancouver-based Karo on Building Your Brand In A Recession and I was forcibly struck at how Starbucks was spitting on each of the brand guidelines offered by the author:

Stick to your long-term goals: It seemed that Starbucks had reacted to the downturn by cutting down on staff (I only spotted one person behind the counter during my visit) and had abandoned its objective to be the "most recognised and respected brand in the world."
Be authentic: Even neighbourhood coffee-shops with little time or money for branding get that being true to your offer involves a little cleanliness and respect for the customer.
Maintain or increase your marketing budget: We're reminded by marketing experts everywhere how 'marketing is everything and everything is marketing.' What kind of impression does a filthy store leave in the mind of its customers?
Think beyond advertising: Starbucks continues to display witty and attractive posters bragging about its excellence but clearly hasn't thought much beyond those images when planning the day-to-day operations in its stores.
Deliver on your brand promises: I don't recall being promised a filthy environment and I certainly wasn't delivered a third place where I might feel "a sense of belonging...a haven, a break from the worries outside." Instead, I found myself irritated at the likelihood I'd end up with chocolate-chip stains on my trousers when I sat on one of the grubby chairs.

I've said in a previous post back in 2008 how "I saw much to admire in the business philosophy and practices of a hardworking and thoughtful enterprise" but noted in the same piece how disappointed I was at how a 'dishevelled' Starbucks had translated the international experience of the brand to its stores in Ireland.

Judging from my infrequent visits to their stores since then (I always choose an alternative if I can help it), it seems that Starbucks continues to ignore even the basic principles of hygiene that underpin any coffee-shop offer to market, whether branded or unbranded.

For this customer and brand-builder, the Starbucks' local blend continues to leave a bitter taste in the mouth.

Saab Steers Clear Of The Scrap-Heap

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 08:51:00 +0000

In a previous post, I wrote of my sadness at the likely demise of one of the great car brands, Saab.

Naturally, I'm delighted with recent news that the brand has been granted a stay-of-execution, thanks to its buy-out by Dutch luxury car manufacturer, Spyker.

Now, Saab isn't out of the breaking yard just yet; whilst Spyker makes breathtakingly beautiful cars, the six-year old business has yet to make a profit. At the same time, Spyker's attitude towards the brand it's acquired is in marked contrast to the cackhanded management approach of General Motors, which has seen the once-proud brand reduced to a poor shadow of itself.

During early discussions around a possible purchase of Saab, Spyker's owners spoke often about their excitement about taking over stewardship of such a storied brand. As Spyker CEO, Victor Muller, put it: "Saab is an iconic brand that we will be proud to shepherd. I think the unique heritage of the brand requires a very strong focus," he said. "If you are part of a very large conglomerate, it's very difficult to have a focus on all these brands."

Now that Saab is in the hands of an owner that seems to truly appreciate the worth of the brand, there's hope that a car with a personality that's a legend in some circles (Don't believe me? Check out some of the Saab fan-sites online, including Saab Club UK) will soon be back on the road, quirkier and more beautiful than ever.

If so, I'll be one of the first in line to cheer it on.

Over To You: What do you make of the news of Saab's last-minute reprieve from the wrecking yard?

Finally! A Game Plan For An Irish Brand

noreply@blogger.com (Gerard Tannam) — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 15:55:00 +0000

Sometimes I wonder do we Irish appreciate the importance of the scenarios being played out before us on the fields of Thomond Park, the RDS and Croke Park. And on foreign fields too.

For so long, the success of Irish sporting brands on the world stage was the result of shimmering, individual talent or a brilliant, if unlikely, solo run, rather than team effort, and we joked that the first item on the agenda of any Irish collective was the split. Whilst the likes of Ronnie Delaney, Barry McGuigan and Stephen Roche proudly flew the flag in their individual sports, our teams generally lowered their colours whenever sustained collective effort was required.

Of course, there were exceptions, but when the Irish camp split on the eve of the soccer World Cup in 2002, it seemed true to form and suggested that we were chronically unable to build brands that were so much more than the sum of their parts.

Now, I know that sporting analogies can leave many of us cold, but I do think Irish rugby offers a brand-builder something of a blueprint for a successful Irish brand. Whether or not the Irish, Leinster and Munster teams repeat their recent triumphs next time out, all three teams can speak confidently of their ambitions to be the best, and point to the combination of inspiration, perspiration and organisation that they bring to the campaign.

And to the distinctively Irish way in which they do so. For it's evident that these players relate with one another and with their public in a way that marks them out in any international company.

It's quite extraordinary that any team drawing on such relatively shallow resources of talent can lay claim to be the best at their game, but few of us would dismiss the chances of any of the three teams to prove just that in the months ahead. And whilst it seems a tragedy that either Munster or Leinster must do it at the expense of the other, it is, of course, a triumph in any event for Irish sport that we have two competing teams at the very top of the game.

I'm reading Donal Og Cusack's autobiography, Come What May, at the moment, and the revelations that shock me are not those relating to his sexuality (which made all the headlines), but the way in which he describes how a highly-talented Cork team with ambitions to be the very best in Irish hurling fell apart because those who managed it were unable to commit to the combination required to deliver sustained brilliance. Whilst there are two sides to every story, what comes through is the lack of honesty in some quarters, which undermined the efforts of many in the team to do what it took to challenge Kilkenny over the past few years.

And so, although my own sporting roots are less rugby and more soccer and gaelic games, it's to Irish rugby I look for a game plan when I consider how to go about building an Irish brand.

Over To You: Where do you suggest I look for a model of great Irish brand-building in action?