We’re used to famous people plugging products within the features sections of newspapers – and increasingly on the sports pages – but is it right for them to do so in front-page splashes?
On Sunday, the Sun touted a remarkable exclusive interview with one of the nation’s most respected sporting heroes, Sir Ian Botham. In it, the former cricketer “revealed” that he was undergoing a new kind of therapy to combat erectile dysfunction.
The piece was rather wonderfully labelled “Testicle Match Special”.
The bizarre story became one of those rare 24-hour publicity-generating phenomena that public relations specialists can only dream of. Botham’s “story” was subsequently picked up by almost every single newspaper and was posted onto almost every leading news website (the Guardian being an exception).
But was it a story or just an artful piece of advertising for a product – or what’s come to be known as content marketing?
A spokesman for News UK, which publishes the Sun, says it’s genuine: “We don’t splash on stories that are plugs for products. The Botham material definitely had serious news value.”
Indeed, it did. For within the three-page “story”, Sir Ian urged all men who are worried they are suffering from impotence, or are worried that they might one day suffer from it (ie, every single bloke) to get themselves checked out and find out more about this remarkable new treatment.
He’s been having Vigore Linear Shockwave Therapy all summer and, after his final session, proudly announced in the newspaper: “I’m a male and men do have problems and you have to front up to them. There’s no downside to this only a big upside.”
Which is both a brilliant double entendre and a neat way of asking: is there any other “upside” to this alleged story?
For instance, what’s the relationship between Sir Ian, Dr Sherif Wakil, who treated the former cricketing hero and now Sky Sports commentator, and Vigore? Vigore, the brand, which, in the space of a single article, gets six name checks over a double-page spread together with a graphic which shows how the treatment allegedly works. (By increasing nitrous oxide to increase blood flow within the penis and repair damaged tissue, if you must know.)
How were the “facts” of the story attained and then verified?
And here’s the most intriguing thing of all – Sir Ian doesn’t even suffer from erectile dysfunction. He’s fine when it comes to sex with his wife Kathy (who has had to endure years of Sir Ian’s extramarital liaisons, now thankfully in the past he adds somewhat sheepishly at the end of the article).
So here’s a “story” about a man who doesn’t suffer from something saying that all men who do suffer from it should run along to Harley Street and pay a substantial sum of money to have their nether regions zapped by a medic who, incidentally (and according to another red-top, the Daily Star), also offers penile enlargement operations.
A “story” given credence, authority and authenticity by an editorial operation that is quite willing to plug a product without wondering if, in fact, it’s simply giving free advertising. Or has it accepted the free advertising in return for a highly-readable Sunday “exclusive” with a celebrity?
It’s certainly not an unusual way to present content, especially when it comes to health.
The day after the Botham splash, the Sun carried a “story” with Cold Feet star Jon Thomson in which the “telly funnyman” admitted that he’d been having hair transplant operations so that he wouldn’t look like such a “bald thug” when out on the dating scene. His favoured Farjo Hair Institute was name-checked in the fourth paragraph.
These celebrities, I’d argue, are helping to market products that may well benefit the wider public, yet we’re not being told if they have any kind of relationship with the brand involved.
Content marketing that looks like editorial is everywhere at the moment. Usually, when there’s a clear paid relationship, it’s accompanied by a small banner or logo saying something like “in association with…”
The separation between the two is becoming increasingly blurred and, personally, the opportunities are enormously exciting. After two decades in newspapers, I now run my own company providing content to brands that understand the enormous power of a story well told.
Disgruntled with ineffective public relations and hugely expensive advertising campaigns, these brands want something more subtle and shareable, less sales-like and – crucially – interesting to read. In other words, journalism that sells rather than just informs. And thus stands a decent chance of creeping into the press by masquerading as news.
In fact, a recent report compiled by Yahoo and media experts at Enders Analysis predicted that content marketing spend in the UK will rise 179.2% to £349 million in 2020, from £125 million in 2014.
In a world flooded by content from who-knows-where, the best material will always rise to the top, the smartest brands will pay for it and the most capable creators might make a decent living from it.
It’s journalism but not as most of us know it – now it’s wrapped around PR and marketing.
It can be the kind of journalism that every rival publication copies without even questioning its merits, creating astonishing ripples of publicity.
All because it’s a good story.
