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Why elephants make for good politicians.

I am reading – about a year after everyone else – the George Lakoff book about framing: “Don’t think of an Elephant”.

His opening point is that if you tell a group of people not to think of an elephant, the first thing they do is…think of an elephant.  It is almost impossible not to.  The very mention of the word conjures up an image that we are stuck with for the rest of the conversation.  This is called framing.

Political campaigners understand how powerful this is.  Why does Theresa May keep going on about “strong and stable”?  She knows she will be mocked, but even when people are mocking her they are saying the very words, the very issues, that she wants the election to be fought on.  So we take the mickey out of her for saying “strong and stable” and allow the framing of the whole debate to be led by her.  Clever.

It would be even better if the words had a visual resonance.  If she said “strong as a (insert very strong thing here” and “stable as a (insert very stable thing here)” then the pictures are planted in our brains and are even harder to get out.  A sober ox perhaps?  No perhaps not.

This is why the republicans always talked about “ObamaCare” and not the real name “Affordable Health Care”.  Same bill; very different image.

So when we communicate, whether it’s to advertise a product or promote a campaign, we need to think about framing.  If we are talking to a staff group about the need for economies we need to emphasise the opportunities this will bring and the competitive edge it will give us.  So we talk about becoming lean and fit; fighting above our weight; getting back to our core values.  We don’t talk about cuts, or closures or losses.

The actual policy still needs to be right of course.  Much as it pains me to say it, the greatest PR in the world cannot cover up a rubbish plan.  But a good plan can be enhanced and a weak one mitigated if we get the communications right.

So the next time you plan a communication, think about how you want to frame the debate.  Do that before you say anything.  Afterwards, it may be too late.

Admit it, you still have an elephant in your mind.

Family Friendly Stand Up – tougher than you’d think…

I am hardly the most experienced of stand ups. Before last Saturday I had done three gigs – a total of about 24 minutes standing up in front of strangers trying to make them laugh. Admittedly this is 24 minutes more than most people, but still not really a career.

But I knew the basics.

First, start with a couple of bankers; a couple of lines almost certain to get at least a giggle. This calms everyone down, reassures the audience that they are not going to have to worry about you, and then you can drift off into the more bizarre and log winded stories.

Second, even if inside you are shaking like a new and over enthusiastic belly dancer, make sure you exude confidence and calmness. Otherwise your audience will sense your fear. Like animals, they can smell it.

Thirdly, mock the place you are in, or better still, the place nearby that they will all mock. Doesn’t need to be funny; does need to be geographically accurate.

But last week was different. Bridgwater’s Got Talent. A talent contest which I’d been invited to enter. The only comic on the bill, I was surrounded by ludicrously talented young people. I was, literally (and I am using literally literally here) more than twice the age of anyone else on stage. Including the compere.

And being a family gig I couldn’t use my tried and tested material about bodily fluids and the negative consequences of maleness. I also could not swear. To add to the challenge I was on at 745 in the evening with an audience that wasn’t really drinking.

So judge for yourselves, but given the circumstances I was grateful for the polite laughter and not disappointed that I didn’t get the much sought after wave after wave of laughter as one gag segues beautifully into the next and the crescendo of guffaws gradually hits a high point at exactly the right moment. The nirvana for comics; the moment that banishes the self doubt for at least half an hour, or until the valium and vodka kicks in

So thank you Bridgwater; a fun evening and good lesson for me. But I doubt you’ll be devastated to hear that I probably won’t be back! Or if I do return, it’ll be as a belly dancer.