Whoring In Helsinki

I had a spike in visitor numbers recently and eventually traced the cause to this blog in Finland.
This lady has linked to a post from the early days of my blog called 'In the Bath with Richard Harris.'
The problem is that her blog, not surprisingly, is written in Finnish so I have no idea what she said about my piece or why so many of her compatriots rushed to read it. Is Richard Harris big in Finland? Or was she unable to read the whole post and thought that I had actually shared a bath with Richard Harris? That would have made a much better post.

I wonder if Alan Bates is a folk hero in Finland? Alan Bates once bought me a vodka and tonic. But sadly I never wrestled naked with him and Oliver Reed in front of an open fire. If I'd known that I'd be writing a blog one day I'd have been more adventurous in my quest for good copy.
I did once sleep with Paddington Bear when he was starring in a Christmas show but even that story is even tamer than it sounds. I had unwittingly used the empty bear costume as a blanket and when I woke to find myself staring into a bear's face I thought I was having alcoholic hallucinations and didn't drink again for a week.
Anyway, if anyone speaks Finnish and can help out, let me know. I'll settle for an edited version if the Finnish for 'plonker' or 'dickhead' appear in her post.

****

Oh yes, there was also that mention in the Guardian yesterday by some panjandrum of advertising.

That, in comparison, produced a peak in visitors of Alpine proportions.
If I deliver a 'ruthless roughing-up' does that make me the rough trade of the blogging world? If so, it's the only context in which I would ever be mistaken for rough trade.

More seriously though, if my Adwatch columns are enjoyed by a grande fromage of the industry, then maybe I'm doing something wrong. Still, it could be worse. If Charles Saatchi ever praised me I'd slit my wrists and throw myself into one of Damien Hirst's tanks of formaldehyde.

But all credit to this First Lady of Focus Groups, whip-cracker to chain-gangs of Creatives, or whoever the hell she is, for a strong defence of the non-commercial integrity of blogging.
One must also salute a woman who succeeds in describing herself in The Guardian as the Chairman of some corporate behemoth. The Chairman! In The Guardian! I ask you! Surely she should be either a stick of furniture (a Chair) or a Chairperson. Did Germaine Greer throw herself under the King's horse on Derby Day in vain?

Two thoughts occur to me. If people in advertising might be reading my Adwatch columns I must be even more careful not to libel the products concerned.
Secondly, I should perhaps write more often about commercials that I like and then wait for the freebies to arrive at Lupin Towers.

I've done one praising the teeny weeny TV Easy magazineey, though I've no particular wish to ever read it. Surely there must be some car commercials I like or, with Christmas approaching, maybe I could find something good to say about the Argos commercials.

But knowing my luck I'll probably one day find myself knee-deep in the no doubt excellent products of Tena Lady.
I knew a boy once who would turn tricks for a Tena. No, maybe it was a Tenner. You see - I've got a long way to go before I become a media whore.