Time to shut the Frank up?

The barber's plays TFM Radio. TFM plays, fairly incessantly, the cacophonous commercial for Frank's Factory Flooring - "I love carpets me" - an asinine advertisement against which we have railed for years.

Eating Owt, February 6, 2001 (Carlbury Arms, Piercebridge): "When this column is invited to be Home Secretary in the next hung parliament, we shall not only proscribe local radio in public places but sanction the slow and symbolic evisceration of the gentleman - Mike Elliott on an earner? - who every ten minutes announces 'I love carpets, me'."

Gadfly, January 22, 2003: "Can there be any question that radio's most repellent (commercial) is for Frank's Factory Flooring, the one we love to hate."

Gadfly, July 23, 2003 (after having a tooth out): "Just as the dentist promised, having the mangled molar removed hardly hurt at all. The moment the job was done, however, some vacuous loon with several hundred carpet tiles loose was bellowing 'I Love Carpets Me'."

Even the church column - is nothing sacred? - has been known to have a go.

The barber's was different. TFM, consenting adults in private, was running an on-air poll - telephone and text message, part of the programme, not the ads - to see if Frank should be toned down.

It was called Shut The Frank Up. "I wish they would," said the hairdresser, "I think he's absolutely horrible."

Thousands have agreed with her, 93 per cent in favour of silencing the fatuous fellow, or at least of reducing him to a library level hush. Listening on-line, a former North Yorkshire resident even rang from Canada to lend his support.

"Why do you think I emigrated?" he said.

Those who underlay Frank's Factory Flooring are absolutely delighted, however. "Probably three-quarters of the 93 per cent will look at Frank's first next time they want floor covering," says Denise Adams, the Darlington-based advertising agency boss who dreamed up the character six or seven years ago and has helped pull the rug from beneath rivals' feet.

Begun by Darlington man Frank Maguire, the company now has outlets all over the North-East. The character, says Denise, is "based on someone loosely connected with the firm"; the voice, she adds, is "absolutely not" that of Geordie entertainer Mike Elliott.

So who is it, then? "I'm not saying. There has to be a bit of mystery," insists Denise.

"So far as we're concerned it's Frank," says TFM promotions manager Jon Kirby, meaning Frank Maguire.

Bearing the slogan "Shut The Frank Up" or "I Love Frank, Me", hundreds of T-shirts have been sold, proceeds to TFM's Make a Child Smile appeal.

"It's been fantastic," says Jon Kirby. "Frank has become one of the best known characters in the Tees Valley. I wish all our presenters were as famous."

The vote overwhelming, the vow of silence - of a whispering campaign, anyway - will continue for at least a month.

After that? Oh come on Frank, it's time for a commercial break.

NO one's done a survey on the most jingle jangling radio ad, though a poll found that last year's most irritating television commercial was for the directory enquiries company 11 88 80, closely followed by Linda Barker promoting Curry's and something, appropriately myopic, for Specsavers.

Michael Winner's Esure ads also loomed large on the hate list; Churchill Insurance inexplicably didn't.

The poll also concluded that the greater the irritant, the greater the attraction. "It is the marketing conundrum, recall and likeability don't always go hand in hand," said the trade magazine Marketing - and it's why they're making a pile at Frank's Factory Flooring.

Guinness made television's all time favourite commercial - the one with horses and surfers - according to a Sunday Times/Channel 4 poll. The Smash potato Martians were second - an instant hit - the Tango Orange man third, J R Hartley thirteenth.

Older ads included Murray Mints (73rd), Go to work on an egg (77th) and not forgetting the fruit gums, mum (81st).

The Milky Bar campaign was 27th, prompting the thought that ten years ago, the latest in a quick on the draw line was six-year-old Gareth Watchman - whose uncle was Middlesbrough and England footballer Colin Cooper - from Bradbury, near Sedgefield.

Gareth will be 16 now. Whatever happened to the Kid?

CHRIS Eddowes in Hartlepool returns whence it came a headline from last Thursday's paper: "Blair hints at second ballet in EU showdown." Chris knew the PM played a bit of guitar but hadn't realised he was following Billy Elliot. "Is there nothing," she asks, "he won't do?"

YET more water beneath the bridge, we have referred the continuing debate over when a beck becomes a river to Tim Burt, professor of geography at Durham University and Master of Hatfield College.

"I don't think there's a tight definition," he says.

So what of the Bain in Wensleydale, claimed at 2.5 miles to be England's shortest river and long warranting an equally succinct mention in the Guinness Book?

"I don't think it's long enough to be a river but if it's local folklore and it amuses them, then fine," says Professor Birt, cheerfully.

He also indulges in talk of network flow and of drainage patterns, after which we again try to engage him on the matter of the vainglorious Bain.

"Unfortunately," says Prof Birt, "I'm just rushing off to a meeting."

FRANK Robinson - once in Bishop Auckland, now in Thornaby-on-Tees - recalls a tanner a time Sunday School trip to Redcar, picking up Shildon Methodists on the way. On arrival, he says, a friend who'd never before seen the sea turned to his mother and remarked what a bloody big beck it was. "That," says Frank, "resolves the problem once and for all."

...and finally, Sedgefield born jockey Andrew Thornton - third in the National Hunt riders' table - answered one of those broadsheet questionnaires on Saturday.

His happiest time was working for the late trainer Arthur Stephenson at Leasingthorne - "though I didn't have a penny to my name" - his greatest fear being in a room with a bird.

Asked which living person he most despised, Andy reckoned it was those who move from town to country and then complain about the smell, which may seem a little extreme.

Worse by far are those who, whenever the sun appears, insist upon playing music in the garden and thus disturbing the peace for everyone else. The season began last weekend; it could be a long hot summer.

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