In the lexicon of public relations, there is a crude but evocative expression to describe the act of trying to make something appear what it most definitely is not. To polish a turd is the precise, technical terminology, and anyone who’s ever worked in PR for some time will be familiar with the phrase and, most probably, its practical application.
It’s an inappropriate term to use in connection with the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, but I’m afraid it was the first thing that came to my mind on surveying Rishi Sunak’s interview with Grazia magazine.
What were the Number 10 spin doctors thinking? They will have correctly identified a very real problem: Sunak does not connect with the great British public. He comes across as aloof and elitist and bloodless, and I suspect their polling will show that this is particularly how he appears to women and young people.
However, it’s their solution with which I take issue. “I know,” a Prime Ministerial PR person might have said, “let’s get Rishi and Mrs Sunak to do one of those soft-focus interviews with a women’s magazine.” The hope will have been that, in giving a flavour of the PM’s domestic life, trying to present him as a husband and father rather than as a politician, he could be made to look and sound “normal”, and be a bit more… well, relateable.
At which point someone should have said: Are you mad? Don’t you remember when he did that cringe-a-minute interview with a couple of schoolchildren during which he told them that he was “a total Coke addict”? Oh, how we laughed. At him, not with him, and that is a crucial detail.
Those who work closely with Sunak will know that he has precise qualities – for example, an attention to detail, a good work ethic, a formidable grasp of macro economics, even a knowledge of the Star Wars oeuvre – and, for all I know, he may be a warm, funny, companionable man who’s comfortable in his skin in day-to-day exchanges. It’s just that he’s singularly not able to project that in any staged set-piece.
Armed with that knowledge, why would you put him in a situation that merely accentuated the negatives? Perched uneasily on a sofa next to his wife, Akshata Murty, answering questions on his home life, he was never going to appear anything other than awkward, uncomfortable, and, frankly, a bit weird. The video highlights of the interview have been a social media sensation, and, as far as Mr Sunak and his people are concerned, not in a good way.
Did it connect with women? A resounding no. There was nothing – certainly not the fact that he “stacks” (not “loads”) the dishwasher or makes the bed (both to his clear irritation) – that will have warmed him to women who might have hoped to glimpse some emotion or sensitivity. I’m not saying he isn’t those things: it’s just that he was highly unlikely to reveal them in this setting.
And what about young people? They would have only found it more embarrassing had it been their own parents. Dogs, too. His annoyance at having to walk the family pet (about whom, curiously, we have heard very little) will not have endeared him to British households.
So I go back to the fundamental point. Why hadn’t his well-paid, presumably experienced, PR handlers worked out that this exercise would be counter-productive? They even had a historical precedent. Last December, Sunak tried to get down with the kids by appearing on the social media video channel Topjaw, in which he named his five favourite restaurants. Seemingly a straightforward exercise, so negative was the reaction from Topjaw’s young followers that the video was taken down within minutes, never to be seen again.
Public relations is not a simple discipline, and at its heart – curiously – is truth. It is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to make people believe something that just isn’t true. However hard you polish, a turd will eventually out itself as a turd. In fact, the more you polish, the quicker its essential nature reveals itself.
I know the Tories are desperate, but in attempting to paint our Prime Minister as a homely, warm-hearted and empathetic individual of the sort that you might like to vote for, they’ve achieved precisely the opposite.
The making of a PR disaster: how Rishi and Akshata got it so wrong
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07.03.2024
In the lexicon of public relations, there is a crude but evocative expression to describe the act of trying to make something appear what it most definitely is not. To polish a turd is the precise, technical terminology, and anyone who’s ever worked in PR for some time will be familiar with the phrase and, most probably, its practical application.
It’s an inappropriate term to use in connection with the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, but I’m afraid it was the first thing that came to my mind on surveying Rishi Sunak’s interview with Grazia magazine.
What were the Number 10 spin doctors thinking? They will have correctly identified a very real problem: Sunak does not connect with the great British public. He comes across as aloof and elitist and bloodless, and I suspect their polling will show that this is particularly how he appears to women and young people.
However, it’s their solution with which I take issue. “I know,” a Prime Ministerial PR person might have said, “let’s get Rishi and Mrs........
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