Think of a number, any number.
Ask this question in any PR agency and I guarantee the first number anyone thinks of will be 17.65. For that number, as a percentage, is what gets added to all the money we spend on our clients' behalf. And every agency does it.
I reveal this insight into our ways of working so that you, potential client, know what you're paying for. I may take a taxi to a meeting at a cost of £10. (Well, Titania's not going to get the bus is she? Be reasonable. And I can't ride one of Boris's bikes because my skirt's too short.)
On your invoice it will appear as £11.76 (which we may as well round up to £12 while we're at it). Simples, as the disgusting insurance rodent would say.
But despite raking it in hand over fist, Karoline (with a K) still can't stump up the £40k salary that I and apparently all of us require as the minimum for happiness. This is the key, along with non-stop pizza, a comfy sofa, the television set to stun and a house in Norwich, according to a survey this week.
Personally I'd use the £40,000 to buy my way out of Norwich pronto, given it's the East Anglian equivalent of New Zealand (ie 25 years behind everywhere else).
Talking of godforsaken hell holes, I see the Isle of Wight has adopted a new strategy to attract tourists, positioning itself via a free 13+ contraception initiative as an underage sex haven. Though I do fear the whole thing may be somewhat undermined by the forecast 65% rise (arf arf) in condom prices, thanks to rubber's upward curve (ho ho).
The one thing in the Isle of Filth's favour, though, is that it doesn't have an Asda. This is a bit surprising, because there's clearly a market there for padded bras for nine-year-old girls.
More from this column
Ask this question in any PR agency and I guarantee the first number anyone thinks of will be 17.65. For that number, as a percentage, is what gets added to all the money we spend on our clients' behalf. And every agency does it.
I reveal this insight into our ways of working so that you, potential client, know what you're paying for. I may take a taxi to a meeting at a cost of £10. (Well, Titania's not going to get the bus is she? Be reasonable. And I can't ride one of Boris's bikes because my skirt's too short.)
On your invoice it will appear as £11.76 (which we may as well round up to £12 while we're at it). Simples, as the disgusting insurance rodent would say.
But despite raking it in hand over fist, Karoline (with a K) still can't stump up the £40k salary that I and apparently all of us require as the minimum for happiness. This is the key, along with non-stop pizza, a comfy sofa, the television set to stun and a house in Norwich, according to a survey this week.
Personally I'd use the £40,000 to buy my way out of Norwich pronto, given it's the East Anglian equivalent of New Zealand (ie 25 years behind everywhere else).
Talking of godforsaken hell holes, I see the Isle of Wight has adopted a new strategy to attract tourists, positioning itself via a free 13+ contraception initiative as an underage sex haven. Though I do fear the whole thing may be somewhat undermined by the forecast 65% rise (arf arf) in condom prices, thanks to rubber's upward curve (ho ho).
The one thing in the Isle of Filth's favour, though, is that it doesn't have an Asda. This is a bit surprising, because there's clearly a market there for padded bras for nine-year-old girls.
More from this column
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