1. The completely true story of the world’s first ever direct mail campaign

2.  How shared mailings caused the end of civilisation and the start of the Dark Ages.

The completely true story of the world’s first ever direct mail campaign

On the afternoon of 22 June 1286 an earthquake disrupted the foundations of the Upright Post (community centre for the marketing elite of Northamptonshire and Rutland) destroying much of the building and severely damaging the internationally renowned public house which had once been visited by King Alfred.  

At first it was believed that England’s most precious relic – the signed robe worn by Dyvid B’ckham when he kicked a ball from Uppingham to Cumbernauld in one go – had been lost to the mayhem.    As Billy the Wolf, landlord of the Upright Post wrote that evening in his daily blog, without the relic the citizenry of the town would be unlikely to give of their time in helping the rebuilding of the Post.  

Meanwhile in the high-rise staging post opposite the local chief of police, Superintendent Sir Notworth Bothering-Wyth, was passing the time lecturing a cluster of down-and-out graphic designers on the relative merits of solo vs shared mailings, when he witnessed a procession of Morrismen emerge from the ruins, bearing the ancient robe aloft.    

The graphic designers immediate seized upon this as a symbolic event and five days of celebration were called.   However during this ensuing excitement a passing necromancer inadvertently dropped a lighted candle onto the pool of crude oil that had begun to bubble up from the Post’s foundations, and the entire city caught ablaze.  

Feeling this to be a great opportunity Sir Notworth put quill to paper and wrote what is believed to be the planet’s first direct mail letter – an appeal to the people of the county to join forces, put out the fire, rebuild the Post and finally rid the city of Morrismen .  

Ultimately a gang of list brokers and copywriters did indeed clear the site where the Upright Post had been and built in its place a simple two meter tall memorial to the events of that summer.  Unfortunately the foundations were not dug deep enough, and the memorial fell down the next morning, thus causing the site to become known as The Toppled Bollard.    Now each year on 22^nd June two Morrismen are ceremonially thrown into the River Slydge which oozes past the site.

How shared mailings caused the end of civilisation and the start of the Dark Ages

I recently wrote a slight but jaunty monogram on the subject of the world’s first direct mail letter, placing its origins firmly within the Rutland/Northants border town of Corby in the 13^th century.  (If you missed it you can read it at www.toppled.info/history.htm).

However, no sooner had I left my quill out to dry than the emails began to arrive claiming that I was wrong by 1000 miles and 1250 years: shared mailings started much earlier.

According to my correspondents, the real story centres on August 410 when General Alaric deposited his world-weary Goths in a car-park on the edge of Rome’s northern ring road at an abandoned fortress known locally as the Deposed Pillar.    

At the same moment a group of itinerant Morrismen under the protection of the Venetian Doge Sir Hardly Anyone approached the city on their way to an international folk dancing and neurosurgery competition in Giggleswick.

Aware of the traffic chaos Alaric was causing, the Emperor Honorius attacked the Deposed Pillar, sending in a troop of travellers’ cheques’ telesales veterans from the Third Hellenic War.

Unfortunately it was at this moment that the Egyptian poet Claudian declaimed his muse which effectively accused the Morrismen of having a malign destiny and silly clothes. 

Outraged, Sir Hardly joined Alaric and gave a talk ending with a rendition of the Venetian fighting song “Let me Pick-u-Uppo”.  Within seconds the previously lethargic army found they were ready for action.  Rome fell and Morris dancing was established in southern Europe .

Amazed, Claudian instantly wrote his famous treatise, “A mild strengthener for human invalids”, in which he offered to sell the lyrics of “Let-me-Pick-u-Uppo” to the military.  Interestingly, he also included an advert for embalming fluid, thus simultaneously bringing about the end of Empire and the start of shared mailings.  Sir Hardly’s men rebuilt the fortress and named it the Reinstated Placement but some passing Vandals knocked it over a little later and it is now known as the Bolisardo di Topolino.

Tony Attwood

PS: Claudian could have made even more money if he had asked me to take a quick look at his advert and advise on how minor changes can generate higher response rates. There’s no charge. Just email Tony@hamilton-house.com or fax 01536 399 012.