Irish politicians are very accessible to the public, just the messenger boys for the local constituency.
When I was 13, I remember crying on my mum’s shoulder when my first girlfriend dumped me via MSN Messenger. That was cold.
I learned the power of radio watching Eleanor Roosevelt do her show. I used to go up to Hyde Park and hold her papers. I was just a messenger, but it planted the bug of radio in me.
Email is the lowest common denominator. It’s the way you get communications from one person to another. There isn’t really an alternative. Sometimes people will have Facebook messenger turned on, but 99 percent of the time, if you’re sending a message to a human you don’t know well, you’re using email.
A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love, a resting place for innocence on earth, a link between angels and men.
When you know what the male species is looking for – ‘I’m not into a redhead,’ ‘I don’t want a fat chick,’ – I have to tell them that X won’t date you unless you’re this. I’m just the messenger.
I came into advertising in 1961. I had been turned down for jobs on the Ford account in the late Fifties as ‘not their type.’ If it hadn’t been for Bill Bernbach, I would now be sitting in some luncheonette, continuing my life as a messenger.
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