Abseil through my brain.
No, it won’t take you long.

My grey matter’s adorably bijou. So the good news is you won’t be brushing neurons out of your hair, eyebrows and turn-ups for weeks on end.

Before you scream “Geronimo!” and slide down into the abyss, though, please ensure your crash helmet’s properly secured. And keep your elbows tucked tightly in at all times.

One previous visitor forgot to do the whole elbow-tucking-in thing, and has since been told by his doctor that he’ll never play Paganini’s Caprice No. 24 in A Minor on the violin again.

Tragically, I don’t think he’d have much success trying to strum Agadoo on the banjo, either.

You’ll have gathered by now that this is a single-scroll site. There’s no navigation. Just a steep descent.

As airline pilots tend not to say to their passengers over the PA system:
I hope you enjoy your plummet.

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Ready to see everything I’ve ever written?

Hey, come back.

OK, OK, I’ll spare you that. You seem like such nice people. Such busy people, too. I’ll keep it short.

The work that I am putting on here, though, spans a number of decades. That’s because I span quite a few myself.

Hopefully the years have been kinder to the older ads than they would’ve been to, say, an unrefrigerated Ziploc® bag of prawns over the same period.

Oh, and another thing that I’ll spare you is a lengthy preamble for each project. Why bother you with endless windbaggery? This isn’t a Cannes entry video.

Now, to paraphrase Alec Baldwin in Glengarry Glen Ross: ABS.
A: always. B: be. S: scrolling. Always be scrolling.

Freedom From Torture. It’s an odd thing to say at the very start, maybe, but don’t get too excited. Because this didn’t get beyond concept stage. (That was despite purloining some dazzling Slater King photography for the mock-ups.) These poster ideas were intended to target people attending Manchester Pride. It was a speculative fund-raising campaign for LGBTQ+ refugees from oppression. Art director: Jamie Axford.

Freedom From Torture. This – for the same client – did see the light of day, however. Freedom From Torture uses gardening therapy to help victims of torture overcome their trauma. A pop-up shop selling plants raised money to fund that. Designers: Jamie Axford and Adam Tomlin.

Laing. Posters for the Edinburgh-based jewellers. Art director: Malcolm Thompson.

Parkhouse. Sister company to Laing (above) . As you can see, the brief was to get this branch’s location across. Art director: Malcolm Thompson.

Taylors of Harrogate. Taylors let me loose on their social accounts. I wish to publicly apologise for my tweet featuring the scales. It probably doesn’t merit a custodial sentence, but a few months’ community service is probably in order.

Beatson House. Rob from Like a River called. “Can you do us some ideas for Beatson House’s sticky-toffee vodka?” “Sticky whaaat for Beatson whom?” I replied. Admittedly, I’d be less likely to sign off the ads with “Long live the toffee hammer and sickle” these days. Art director: Rob Taylor.

Fitzhenry. To prepare us for creating the campaign, our agency sent Ruth and I off to the restaurant. It was tucked away in a sunshine-shunning backstreet. The sort of place, we mused, that you’d go for a clandestine, candlelit, extramarital meal. Hang on… we’d just written the brief. Art director: Ruth Yee.

Jenners. Bus side for the department store. Art director: Brian McGregor.

Tennent’s Lager. This poster is older than time itself. It bagged my very first ad award. In Scotland, the red T was – and indeed still is – famously the logo of Tennent’s Lager. Less self-confident then than I am now, I initially crumpled up the sheet of paper on which I’d scribbled the line, and lobbed it into the bin. Ian, my perceptive and eagle-eyed creative partner, saw more merit in it and promptly fished it out again. Art director: Ian David.

Whitespace. Just a few adhesive-backed stickers to go on the back of the agency’s artwork. A teeny-weeny job. But an opportunity for a bit of fun in an unexpected place.

Scotland Against Drugs. Although we were heavily outspent by the unofficial Scotland Very Much in Favour of Drugs, Thank You campaign, we gave it a go. Art director: Ruth Yee.

Oolo. Speculative strapline and miscellaneous copy for a didn’t-quite-happen non-alcoholic brand. Designer: Phil Chapman.

Kenningtons. The department store selling fancy designer gear was getting itself a new in-store restaurant. Careful, now… Art director: Ruth Yee.

The Lammermuir Festival. This musical festival was staged at a series of wonderfully characterful venues. To this day, I don’t know why they bought the headlines but not my original sign-off: “Beautiful sites. Beautiful sounds.” Instead, it was… changed. Art director: Malcolm Thompson.

26/Scotch Malt Whisky Association. The whisky bottles at the SMWS are given generic labels. 26 – the organisation celebrating the craft of writing – paired 26 writers with 26 designers to create (you’re well ahead of me here) 26 unique labels. This was the one I did with designer Susanna Freedman.

Rutland Hotel. The prices of their lunches were frightfully – bordering on the frighteningly – reasonable. Art Director: Malcolm Thompson.

Halo Foods. I was briefed to come up with a name for a snack range while at The Gate London. It’s been registered, but hasn’t yet been used. But I live in hope. That would be a career high.

Stonewall. This strapline was something else that I wrote at The Gate.

OK, let’s take a breather here. It’s time for another big red headline. Please feel free to bathe your scrolling finger in iced water and curl up in the foetal position in the shade beneath your desk while a few tracks from your Now That’s What I Call Whale Song XXVII Spotify playlist howl mournfully away in the background.

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Satisfaction guaranteed.
Or your lorem ipsum back.

Here are a few projects that are a tad more copy-heavy. Nothing verbose enough to have left old Leo Tolstoy feeling like a work-shy slacker. Just a few words more than just a few words.

For what it’s worth, my opinion about brands’ tones of voice is that consistency ceases to be of much importance if the consistent element is a tendency to be dull, clichéd and forgettable.

Dormen. I got to establish a suitably snooty tone of voice for a range of ’oity-toity snacks. Designer: Ruth Shanley (née Chapman).

Well, bless my varifocals. That could’ve been easier to read, couldn’t it? Let’s switch to “cropped” mode.

Whitespace. I was briefed to put a line on a coaster to be posted to prospective clients, encouraging them to pop in for a cuppa. But I did this instead. Lovely agency that they were, Whitespace embraced the idea instead of flinging a kettle at my head for ignoring a simple instruction. Designer: Claire Thomas (née Morrow).

DM Leslie & Pendleton. “It’s an firm of independent financial advisers,” I was warned before the briefing. “So the job might be a little dry.” Which sounded like a dare to me. As it turned out, the clients were game for something with a bit of attitude. Here are a few pages. Designer: Claire Thomas (née Morrow).

GSA & IoD. Despite what the copy says, this selection of pages appeared in a brochure to announce a joint venture between the Glasgow School of Art and the Institute of Directors. After the copy had been signed off and the illustrations completed, the project was shelved. Colin prudently changed the names of the GSA and IoD on the artwork for our portfolios. Although I’ve just imprudently mentioned them here. Designer: Colin Bennett.

26. This 26 project was for the Bloomsbury Festival. Writers were each given the name of a notable person associated with the area. We then had to write a 1) haiku and 2) short biography about our assigned dignitary. I got JM Barrie.

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No need to crane your neck.
Nothing to
see here.

Yes, radio. The unsung – though frequently singing – medium.

How did the Canadian band Rush put it in their single Spirit of Radio, which I bought when I was 15? They put it like this:

“Invisible airwaves crackle with life / Bright antennae bristle with the energy / Emotional feedback on a timeless wavelength / Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free.”

No pressure then, if you’re trying to get antennae energetically bristling by squeezing 30” of mandatories into a 20” ad to run on Backwater FM.

Glenmorangie. “Glen of Tranquillity” in Gaelic is “Glenmorangie”, see? (Or do I mean “hear”? I’ve confused myself now.) Art director: Ruth Yee. Production: Red Facilities.

Specsavers. My ex-boss asked me – thanks, Dave! – whether I fancied doing a freelance job writing some Specsavers ads for the Scottish market. I did indeed fancy it.

Irn-Bru. Part of the Scottish not-so-soft soft drink’s Think Different campaign. Production: Candle Music.

ATS. Sadly, I don’t have recordings of these. So you’ll have to perform them yourself. Yes, ALOUD. I featured prominently in the second of these ads. I sang with my head upside down in a water-filled bucket that was slightly closer to electrical equipment than was entirely advisable.

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If you like period dramas, you’ll love
my showreel.

I’ll admit it: some of the aspect ratios of these TV ads look a tad medieval.

Christopher Eccleston (a thoroughly lovely chap, by the way) looks scarcely post-pubescent in the Scottish Office ad.

And in one of the Glenmorangie ads, there’s a mobile phone with the dimensions of a Volvo V60.

In other words, I haven’t had a huge number of tasty TV briefs to work on recently. But imagine how enthusiastic I’d be – how wholeheartedly I’d throw myself into the task – if the chance to work on one were to arise.

I’d be like a school of famished piranhas spotting a KFC Party Bucket capsizing in the water ahead of them.

Scottish Office
N.B. ”Our Damon” is a topical-turned-historical motorsport reference.

The Scotsman
Anyone correctly identifying the VO will not win £3,000.

Glenmorangie
Today, a mobile flung lochwards would go "splish". Back then, it went "KERBLOOMP".

Glenmorangie
Have armchairs.
Will travel.

Glenmorangie
See? They travelled.

ESPC
The animated dog had to be shown unscathed at the end. Seriously.

RBS
Not actually a TV ad.
Part of a video series.

Nambarrie
Vanquishing casual sexists one cuppa
at a time.

My beloved art directors
Scotland Against Drugs/Scottish Office/Glenmorangie: Ruth Yee.
ESPC/Nambarrie: Malcolm Thompson. The Scotsman: Martin Lambley.
RBS: Carolina Aviles.

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Blimey, I must
be good.
I even managed
to sell me.

During the dark – and painfully quiet – days of COVID-19 lockdown, I went on LinkedIn to commit a crime against musical metaphors: I blew my own trumpet to drum up business.

Happily, my posts did the trick. There are three here but, as my long-suffering LinkedIn connections will confirm, I did quite a few more than that. I was an unstoppable campaign machine.

Imagine what I could do if working for you or your clients – with all those wonderful product features and those enviable USPs. Rather than doing ads for whatever this is. *points at self*

And a wee while before that, I wrote my festive mailshot.
Designer: Rob Taylor at Like a River.

What the heck. I’m on a roll now. In for a penny,
in for a pound. I did this a couple of years ago.
Sound on? Then hit play.

Oh, and there’s this. There’s no sound with this one.

If you can’t go all gooey and sentimental in your self-promotional Christmas card, when can you?

And I’ll finish with this: an actual paper and ink mailshot
*waits for gasps to subside*
that I sent to unsuspecting creative directors.

*

A career so
chequered,
you could use
my C.V. as a
chessboard.

(Before we go any further, please tell me you didn’t read that as “cheeseboard”. Pleeeeease.)

My advertising career began in the library at Y&R London. Back in those pre-Google days I was effectively Google. If you wanted to know the lyrics of the Botswanan national anthem or the adspend of the Belgian rubber goods market for every month since April 1937, I was your man.

But one fateful day, an irresponsible person at the agency told me I should really be a copywriter. Being highly suggestible, I immediately resigned to become a copywriter.

Here you’ll see the places I’ve worked at in that role. From aspiring copywriter to junior copywriter to senior copywriter to deputy CD.

I wrote nice
things. So
they wrote
nice things.

The lovely people below have paid me to write for them many times over the years. And now they’ve generously consented to write something for me in return.

I haven’t had so much as a hint of a suggestion of a sniff of an invoice from any of them, though. The mugs.

Because I even bill my kids for writing in their birthday cards. I don’t just write “Happy birthday!” you know. I draw on 30+ years of copywriting experience to write something special. And special doesn’t come cheap.

So I charge them. With payment terms of 28 days.

“Chris is a sparky, original writer with a sharp commercial awareness and a very droll turn of phrase. Just read his stuff. It's funny, persuasive and down-to-earth – and it doesn't sound anything like those average writers who all sound like each other. Oh and he's a lovely bloke too.”

Gerry Farrell | Founder, Gerry Farrell Ink | Former CD, The Leith Agency

“Chris is a delight to work with: witty, versatile, erudite. His words live up to expectations.”

Michael Hart | CD, The Union

“Chris Miller is one of the most eloquent copywriters I have ever had the pleasure to work with. A true wordsmith, entertainer and gentleman. If those sound like old-fashioned qualities, fear not, because Chris has his finger on the pulse of all that's new and relevant when talking to and writing for different audiences. In addition to his conscientious copy and concept talents, Chris also genuinely enhances the working environment. Every agency deserves someone who knows how to lighten the mood and lift people's spirits along the difficult road to creating better work. Chris deserves to work on brands that will delight in his ability to create a distinct tone of voice and then run with it. You'll struggle to find a copywriter more knowledgeable about his craft than Chris. The only thing he doesn't really know is how good he really is. Snap him up for a quick freelance project or to get the most out of him, a permanent agency role. His experience will help all the younger writers flourish, and his mere presence in agency life will bring a smile to people's faces. Be quick though, because sooner or later, he'll take everyone's advice and let the stand-up comedian inside him come out or write that award-winning TV sitcom.”

Alistair Ross | Founder, Logic Logic Magic | Former CD, The Gate London

“‘The copywriter with his own strapline.’ This is one of my favourite Twitter biographies and it belongs to Chris. It epitomises what Chris is all about. 1) He will fit great copy into all the nooks and crannies required of modern integrated communication, both offline and online. 2) He elegantly conveys personality and tone of voice in as little as six words. 3) He doesn't just write. His advertising background has taught him to be a focused conceptual thinker. 4) He "gets" the whole social thing. 5) That should be enough.”

Phil Adams | Founder, I know Some People Ltd. | Former Strategy Director, Cello Signal | Former MD, The Leith Agency

“Chris is an exceptionally gifted creative copywriter who brings a unique personality and flair to everything he touches. He has a wonderful way with words and always get the very best out of a brief.”

Colin Bennett | Designer, Apple

I also considered this LinkedIn post to be a touching endorsement. My agency had posted a recruitment ad for a copywriter. Then I had a go. And this was one response.

Oh, and indulge me, if you will. Although, sadly, I’ve never worked for the legendary Mr Beattie, he once wrote this. To be honest, I should’ve binned the rest of my site and used Trevor’s tweet instead.

*

Although I’m
self-employed, you can poach me from under my very nose.

Quick, while I’m not looking. Make your move. Lure me away from myself. I’m available now. Because – despite a gentlemen’s agreement – there’s no way I’m giving me three months’ notice.

Failing that? Well, a bit of freelance work would be greatly appreciated. My current boss would love that, too.

No matter what your plans, though, thanks so much for descending all this way. Because you’ve now struck – reluctant though I am to apply the phrase to my own website – rock bottom.

If there’s anything here that has made you wonder wistfully what I could do for you or your clients, there’s no reason not to find out for sure.

For better or for worse, I have an email address that, when said aloud, sounds like an extremely agreeable Italian: cc@ccmiller.cc

Ready when you are.

Chris

Press the button.
Next floor: soft furnishings and hosiery.

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