Daggers Delivered

By The Drum, Administrator

December 17, 2004 | 3 min read

It is hard being an object of affection. Everyone wants you – but not everyone can have you. If they get you, they keep you under lock and key. If they don’t, then they get jealous. It’s a tough life being a Scottish Advertising Awards dirk. If you don’t believe me, check out a day in my life.

Being late for an important function where you will play a leading role is inexcusable yet sometimes unavoidable. This year’s Scottish Advertising Awards was one of those occasions. But, as they say, all good things come to those who wait. An early start to the day in Glasgow, we pick up my glamorous assistant first – evening gown, the works, complete with tiara and stilettos, Judith looks the part ... maybe not for half-nine on a rainy Tuesday morning, but still.

Quickly, the chauffeur transports us (me and my princess) to Edinburgh – Union House first. Michael and Don look pleased to see me (I think?). A few photos, a quick flirt and then off again, as the creative pairing lump the case of shiny daggers down to their basement.

Next to the Port of Leith. CitigateSMARTS. After a quick visit to the old, empty office (stupid chauffeur), a phone call and host of wolf whistles from the workmen surrounding the former Smarts office, we navigate our way to the agency. A quick photo shoot and on, next door, to Story. Already parched, I sit on the shelf as Judith enjoys a chat and a cuppa with Dave and Sue. After presenting their dirks to them we are on the road again. We drive past The Leith (two dirks in the boot for them). We haven’t managed to contact anyone at the agency, and without an obvious parking space for the limo (read VW Polo) we motor past with some remorse.

Newhaven next. A whole team shot for the Grand Prix winners ... and onwards. Lunch beckons and still three more agencies to visit, this side of the M8.

Lunch. (Sandwich, bottle of juice and a caramel slice). Incident with the car keys (stupid chauffeur again) and then 1576. Next, the task of the day – Family. Not that visiting Family is a task. However, it is for my princess, walking along a packed Princes Street at lunchtime, in teetering stiletto heels, evening gown and tiara. In the rain. Despite the strange glances and even more wolf whistles, we get there. As my shiny silver friends are put lovingly on the shelf, we depart. Job done. Princes Street again. Ouch.

Last stop this town – Arc. Two dirks, a few photos, a quick chat and off. The M8 again. It’s now dark.

The Bridge. Awards. Photos. Outside to compose ourselves (quick ciggie) and round the corner to Frame© ... The last call of the day (Colin Marr’s Perthshire base is out of reach today) and, thank goodness, they are right next to a bar. Stiff drink. Drop off Judith. (No goodnight kiss.) Home.

Until next year ...

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