Showing posts with label Marco Pierre White. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marco Pierre White. Show all posts

Christmas Comes Early


Kathryn Platt, Account Executive, Clarion Communications

So it’s a lovely, hot sunny day and I’m stood outside Marco Pierre White’s restaurant in central London with a box of Christmas decorations.

The Fame Game



Matt Stokoe, Associate Director, Clarion Communications

Celebrities. Like timesheets, status reports and early morning photo calls, working with celebs is one of the many joys that everyone who works in PR will have experienced – most tend to be pleasurable and memorable encounters, though there are some ‘sleb’ partnerships which end up being quite the opposite and are rarely spoken about ever again (we all know who the culprits are...).

Murals, Motorbikes and Christmas in July – it’s all in a day’s work




By Niall Hughes, Account Manager, Clarion Communications

There aren’t many workplaces I can think of where you can sit at your desk, having spoken with a TT Motorcycle racer about his upcoming documentary film, and then find yourself opening a package containing a SpongeBob SquarePants designer wall mural…while being surrounded by Christmas decorations in July.  But then I’m sure there aren’t many desks quite like mine.

PR's Greatest Hits – 1986-2011




By Howard Bowden, Head of News, Clarion Communications

Later this year, Clarion celebrates its 25th  anniversary – so to commemorate our birthday, here are 25 things from the past quarter of a century which have helped shape PR as we know and love it…

1. Bizarre in The Sun  

The Beatles’ break-up didn’t make a single National splash – and it was only when The Sun introduced the first daily newspaper pop page in the mid-80s that the media’s modern day love affair with Celeb Culture began.

Game, Set and Match: Branding




By Lucy Meadmore, Account Manager, Clarion Communications
 
At some point over the next two weeks, my friends and I will be packing our picnic rugs and heading off to Wimbledon, home of the All England Lawn Tennis Club, ready to set up camp on Henman Hill – I refuse to call it Murray Mount – while eating strawberries and drinking Pimm’s in the quintessential English fashion.