Nevermind the Fumble in the Jungle, or the Thriller that Smells like Vanilla, Bob Bly has asked me to step outside and meet him behind the bike sheds.

He very kindly emailed me yesterday after I posted one of my glib comments on his blog. He’s only had the thing up and running for two weeks and he can hardly be touted as the keenest supporter of the medium. He also holds the record for most comments received for a first post and I must admit, I really do like his blogging style, if not always his content.

Bob’s a rather successful copywriter and direct marketing guru. He also bears an uncanny resemblance to a rather cuddly Rupert Murdoch – perish the thought.

He asked me if I’d care to join him in a teleconference debate over at Deb Weil’s place to argue the merits of business blogging. Unlike the folks who turned him down, I have very little to lose. I’m fully aware that I could crash and burn whilst looking like a goon, but I also might learn a thing or two in the process.

He also doesn’t realise I have a curve ball or two up my sleeve. Granted, we don’t do an awful lot of teleconferencing round here, but I learnt quite a while ago how to totally befuddle an American. The key is to thicken the old Lancashire accent and watch the colour drain from their cheeks. The first time I met the prospective mother in law, her first question was to ask whether I was hungry. I replied that I was a touch peckish and could immediately see the panic etched in her face as she had no idea what I was talking about. It really is one of my favourite pastimes when I’m over yonder.

Anyway, apart from that, I promise not to gouge, scratch, bite, or pull hair. I’m also in negotiations with PBS over pay-per-view rights.

So, Bob:


Big Bad Bob Bly Blog ‘Fly Bly Night’


The Tinbasher Paul ‘The Tinbasher’ Woodhouse