Mark Comments in the Press.
With a keen eye for cultural trends and a depth of insight honed through years of experience in the public eye, Mark stands as a beacon of clarity in a world often shrouded in confusion.
Mark’s commentary is both thought-provoking and incisive, inviting audiences to see beyond the surface and engage with the complexities of our times.
DULCE ET DECORUM EST PECUNIAM A PATRIA ACCIPERE
It is good and proper to accept money from your country. The Borkowski poet in residence on the British hostages in Iran selling their stories on release. Death or glory, sell your story, take the media tycoon shilling. The eagle has landed and it’s money minded. Don’t fight just make a killing. If you flunk the mission don’t seek permission, find the media at a dash. Give name and rank and serial rights to whichever paper hardest fights and offers up most cash. Let them talk to your brother, to your weeping mother, let them talk to your friends as…
CELEBRITY THERAPY
The Borkowski poet in residence considers the relationship between celebrities and pain in the wake of Halle Berry telling America’s Parade magazine recently that she had contemplated suicide after her first marriage imploded. Pain is an implement for careful use, when nothing else will raise your name out of the gutter of yesterday’s news. When cleavage doesn’t cut it and the paparazzi’s knicker shots are stuffed with last week’s fast food at the bottom of bins for rats to feast on pain is the only tool left in the box. So bring out your suffering, your suicide attempts, your teenage…
CELEBRITY WORLD
The Borkowski poet in residence takes a scathing look at the world of celebrity and its knock on effects. This is a world encased in plastic and driven on by image where even the winners are losers and the search for fame’s a scrimmage A world coated in Teflon where even cricket is corrupt and the coaches can be murdered if the ante isn’t upped A world devoid of meaning where Paris Hilton and Kate Moss compete for formulaic headlines and turn the news to dross A world bent on escape a world of plastic dolls a world burning like…
Strickly Hollywood
The internet is littered with mythical tales of early Hollywood scandals that never saw the light of day; rape, abortions, drug abuse and suicide amongst others. Back then, the media was corralled by publicists and many deals were struck with high-ranking officials in the police department to keep most of them – from the least offensive to the quite horrible – from public knowledge. Howard Strickland, operating in the 1940s, was almost certainly the most powerful Hollywood publicist of his time. A studio Goliath, his main line of work was to ensure that reputations were managed and that the Davids…
CATWALK QUEEN
The Borkowski poet in residence on Naomi Campbell’s community service clearing garbage in New York after assaulting her housemaid last year. She’s a catwalk queen famed for punching servants out. She’s a solipsist; it’s her creed and she’s most devout. She’s Monroe mixed with Daffy Duck, she’s capable of carnage but she must still look sexy when she’s sorting through the garbage. She’s a catwalk queen and in bubbles of unreality she’s lived a life of privilege far out from normality. She’s spiked her life in Streatham on a pair of heels from Louboutin. She’s an expert at looking glorious…
IT’S JUST NOT CRICKET
Written after Andrew ‘Freddie’ Flintoff was dropped as vice-captain of England’s World Cup cricket team for falling drunk from a pedalo boat whilst celebrating by cricket authorities whose memories clearly don’t extend as far back as the 1980s and Ian Botham. Cricket is a noble sport. No drunkards are allowed. Cricketers must hold their heads up high and be by hangovers unbowed. It’s just not cricket to carouse or to laugh and sing and drink and then fall out of a pedal boat and very nearly sink. Cricket is a splendid sport, a celebration in itself. No cricketer should take…
Publicists of the Silver Screen
The deeper I research the history of the lost Hollywood publicists, the more I feel like I’m staring down the barrel of a shotgun or looking into a dark well. Trawling through libraries, websites and text books, I have quickly realised that history, in the PR arena, is something that doesn’t get the respect it deserves, American movie history in particular. Its protagonists are considered to be old crinklies, plodding down Sunset Boulevard on a zimmer. Celluloid history demands that everyone involved should be as glamorous as the 30’s starlets on the screen. There is no respect for the aged…
The Power Of The Freud
Just as a thousand liggers sharpened their patter to pass the clipboard test to slither into post Oscar parties, four days later in London I suspect the wannabes will try to assemble at Matthew Freud’s send off hurrah for his arch lieutenant, Kris Thykier. Tonight’s bash promises to mimic some of the sumptuous parties that attracted the film glitterati in la la land. It has to be a fitting send off to mark the passing of a Freudian legend. I suspect it is not the whiff of vintage champagne and gourmet canapés that is enticing, but the promise of a…
COME PRAY WITH ME PLEASE MR PAISLEY
“Tony Blair has forged a special bond with the Rev Ian Paisley, the DUP leader who holds the future of the Northern Ireland peace process in his hands, by discussing their common interest in and commitment to Christianity… “Blair is brilliant at seducing Paisley,” Lord Bew said. “This is the most amazing love affair, the last great Blairite romance. They are even exchanging books on religion. It is fantastic stuff. It is religious; it is romantic. It is brilliant.” The Guardian, Wednesday, March 14 The Borkowski poet in residence imagines what the Prime Minister might have said to Paisley. Come…
MOSES SUPPOSES
The Borkowski poet in residence on the crisis engulfing broadcasters including ITV, Channel 4 and Channel Five over premium-rate interactive services. Moses supposes his toeses are roses and that no TV phone in’s been fixed but Moses supposes erroneously; his chance of winning’s been nixed. Moses suggests that footballs are breasts, that if he says they’ll pay straight away but Moses’ suggestion is open to question because the prize funds have been cachéd. Moses insists that nothing’s amiss, pays one pound a minute and is fleeced. For Moses’ sake I would strongly suggest that TV quizzes are better policed.
The Son of The Sheik (1926) Rudolph Valentino
The sexiest dude of the silent movies hyped by non other than the great Harry Reichenbach. How I would have loved him as a client, but unfortunately the publicist and the star fell out. Its suggested that there was a mighty crash of egos.