Another Search Enginey post

Yeah, I know my title isn’t search friendly. But I’m not that fussed about randoms finding it, especially as it is poorly researched and it’s just me playing around with stuff…

OK so the last couple of posts have been thinking about how to incorporate SEO to PR content and is quite unrelated to what I’m actually working on in the office right now. The reason I actually got off my pert bum and started writing the blog is because the top-digi-dawg [not his proper title] at PN, Mat Morrison asked me to keep a journal on the work I was doing on our newly launched Web site. Have a look it is really neat. While you are there, have a look here and here. Not sure if many other massive corporations would have the balls to be so transparent.

I started writing for the Under Construction blog but then got bogged down with chasing people and making changes to the site and let it slide somewhat but my new found infatuation with all things SEO, neatly ties into what I want to write about.

Blogging your work: it takes three-times longer to do anything.

I’m looking at our own site and how we can make it more search engine friendly. But it’s not just the site itself, it’s our whole Web presence. PN, you, your clients, are no longer just a single corporate Web site any more.

I know this thinking sounds about two years old but I spoke to someone recently about the seeding of their ‘viral’ game. It’s aim was to raise awareness of the client and measured its success on Web traffic to the main site. Do you then discount the hundreds/thousands of people who played the game, seen the brand but not necessarily visited the site? This kind of thinking is still rife.

My old agency, Rainier PR, seems to have a struck a good balance between how their various spaces [I’m sticking with spaces, it’s probably not what the cool kids are using but it works for me] and keywords fit together. MD’s Steve Earl and Stephen Waddington have both fairly blatantly targeted the key terms “IT PR” and “Tech PR” respectively. Steve’s blog, Earlin’ Abuse: Steve Earl’s IT PR Agency Blog ranks higher for ‘IT PR’ than the Surrey-based PR agency, and direct competitor ITPR. “Count them chickens, bad boy”, as Steve would say. Wadds’ Tech PR blog needs very little introduction for the most part. See pretty pics below.

I’m currently researching our keywords and will blog about them shortly. I’m using Raven as my primary research tool. It costs money but aspects of it you can find elsewhere for nowt.

This post is already too long. Bye.

Optimising press release: Keyword research wheel

OK sorry about that, I’m still getting use to having my own proper blog.

My esteemed ex-boss, @wadds has asked me to explain my little self properly before vomiting random diagrams on my page.

Before I do that, I just want to make a few points.

I always said that I’d resist blogging until I had something to say and not care what others thought. Actually I do, and your kind words have been much appreciated.

Secondly, please, PLEASE bear in mind that the diagram was thought up following a couple of nights of restless sleep. It is definitely NOT what the Digi team at PN is using for their keyword analysis. I’m not an expert at all in this field and hoping to get shot down but if you like it, use it – let me know if you make it better. But don’t blame me if people start picking holes in it mid-presentation and starts hating you. Just saying. Get a better haircut.

OK, I’ll explain myself.

Keyword_research wheel

See that pretty thing up there? That’s what I’ve tentatively called the Keyword research wheel – took me ages to make the circly bit. It’s just a little thought process for when you are writing a press release. It’s made up of two main sections: the Internal Review and the External Review – which are then divided into subsections:

1. Objective [Evaluation]
What are your client’s objectives and how do keywords fit into it? For instance, you have copy  about a specific product or upgrade, let’s say a specific model of Camera, the Coolpix S710.  If you’ve made enough people aware of it, you would then make sure you would be placed highly for when people are searching for it. Alternatively, if you have a spokeperson making up a non-story opinion linking home-working/virtual conferencing/Second Life-based-meeting with green issues  [you all are and you know it] then you would want your press release to be littered with perhaps more general issues-based terms.

I’ve got another post coming up which will explain more about this.

2. Keywords [Evaluation]
Once you’ve come up with a list of keywords don’t keep it in your head. Write them down or stick them in an Excel file. There’s a table half-way down the page which is quite useful for making sure you’ve got things ticked off even though it’s more for finding keywords to track.

3. Trends [Rationalization – yes, it is a ‘z’]
What are people actually searching for? What is your target audience typing into search engines?  Using Google’s Keyword Tool you can have see what are popular search terms.

4. Competition [Rationalization]
When picking Keywords you should see how much competition there is. Is it worth going all guns blazing and trying to rank highly for “Porn sex”? Probably not. Start thinking about the weird shit.

I posed a question to my colleague Kerry the other day regarding competitor’s keywords. Should you care what your direct competitors are doing? For instance, you’d think Porter Novelli should be looking at Edelman and Weber’s keyword list. Sounds obvious right? Especially with all three of us launching our new Web sites recently. But surely then you should only want to rank highly for popular/relevant search terms and whatever your competitors are doing is redundant? I don’t know, perhaps someone could help?

Once you’ve gone through the stages you then should tweak it a bit more so that it fits in with the client objectives – hence the circle. Finding the right keywords is basically about balancing your client’s needs, the popularity of keywords and how much competition there is. Hardly, deserving of the interest its had. It’s a bloody good bit of Powerpoint though.

Does this explain my reasoning behind the Keyword research wheel? Does it actually work? Who knows? Who cares?

Keyword diagram

Sketched this on the back of my notebook one day. This is the process I’m working to for now.

If it works I’ll get one of our designers to make it look a bit nicer – maybe put some pretty pictures in.

 

Search Engine Optimisation and Public Relations: Conversion Vs Conversation

OK, a bit of a divergence here. Actually it’s not much of a divergence, I’ve always said this blog was a place to braindump all my ideas and keep a track of where I am. It just so happens that I haven’t had much to say about work, I’ve settled down better in London and have nothing [which I deem] interesting to say. So I’m going to talk about Search Engine Optimisation and PR for  a bit. Before I start nothing I say in this is going to be new, and probably not all of it right.

For me, Search Engine Optimisation should form the basis of any comms campaign. It’s what got me into digital PR. Two and a half years ago, Rainier PR’s Wadds asked me to do a bit of research of SEO and implement some of my findings in the web site. You’ll find my poorly proofed whitepaper here. And it wasn’t so long ago when I bored PR networking queen Jaz Cummins to tears with my SEO rant when I first met her a couple of years back.

Geordie Scally and part time PR Golden child, Stephen Davies has commented on SEO in the past but following his new business venture and move to Newcastle’s premier business park, he’s been rather quiet on that front.

I flirted outrageously with Social Meedja Massif! [innit] but I always had a keen interest in the way SEO is more measurable and actually leads to conversions rather than ‘conversations’. If you were a client where would your money go?

Before you worry your little selves about the intricacies of tinkering about with ‘web code and that’, I’m not talking about breaking your Web site. I’ve no real experience of web coding, etc, I can spot patterns and take a guess at what means what but apart from that I’m as lost as horse with a wrench.

With Google dicking around with its algorithm again, content is key. This is where PR can take some of the SEO market if we’re clever enough. And the basis of content is knowing what people are searching for, i.e. keywords – which is where I am starting from and see where I get from there.

Follow me on my journey as I waste time working out how two conflicting areas[SEO and PR] can come together into something more beautiful. Take note Middle East.

Sing when your wedding

A favourite song for most people, is not necessarily chosen because of a hummable tune, a fanciable singer or touching lyrics. If it was just about all those things, Blue’s “One Love” [sample lyrics: “Baby just love me, love me, love me”] would be on the top of everyone’s list.

A favourite song for most people reminds them of something or perfectly captures an important moment. This could be an ex-love, a drunken night of dancing like an epileptic tramp, or the day of your 13^th birthday.

There’s a song by Usher called ‘Caught Up’ which will forever remind me of the journey home after a day’s trial at a ‘marketing’ company in Leeds. At the time I was unemployed after graduating, and a £15k salary as ‘Marketing Assistant’ [the advert said] would have been perfect.

However, it turned out that this ‘marketing’ company, was in fact those annoying cretins who go door-to-door badgering old women or those that struggle with the English language trying to convince them to switch gas suppliers, while using underhand tactics [“Just make up some story about fuel prices going up-they probably don’t watch the news anyway”- was a piece of advice that particularly stood out].

At the end of the day we all got a ride home where that very song came on the radio and one of the workers – a balding 30-something Asian male – starting singing and trying to get everyone to dance while cramped [there were four of us in the back] in a Ford Mondeo. It was more cringing than seeing porn with your friends only to find that the adult-film in question starred your mother. Having her way with your mate sitting next to you.

But the one song that really stands out for me is Damien Rice’s The Blower’s Daughter. It always reminds me of getting on the train at Forster Square on a grey day as the kids in this generation’s version of the shell suit– Addidas bottoms tucked in white socks [with stripes above the ankles], a hoodie and thick gold-plated chain from Lucy Lockets in Kirkgate or Argos-exclusive Elizabeth Duke – push their prams towards the Donnay-clad halls of Sportsworld.

Because my MP3 player was pretty much my only form of entertainment on the long journeys to Bradders and back, there’s a couple more songs which similarly remind me of home.

Recently, however, I found out that songs that reminded me of home didn’t necessarily make me miss home, my family and friends.

One of the few friends who I went to school with and who I still see fairly regularly, recently got married. I was excited for him. Although we were never that close [he wouldn’t let me go all the way], we were the only ones in our group of mates who had regular girlfriends and we didn’t smoke weed [it just smells funny, and people become around 10 per cent thicker when they are stoned – in the same way people become 10 per cent more intelligent when they wear glasses].

The wedding was on a weekend and in Leicester, which is much closer to London than Yorkshire and I had my suit dry cleaned and was looking forward to seeing everyone again; away from getting drunk and playing Pro Evo on the Playstation at someone’s house. It was nice to get together for a proper occasion.

The Weds before the wedding I got a text telling be that unfortunately he can only invite so many people [100 to be exact] and unfortunately there wasn’t room for me. Two things came into my head.

Firstly: 100 people! One-hundred flipping people! I’d like to think I’d be in the top 100 people at least for most people I was acquainted with. Apart from Harold Shipman, most people would think that right? Oh well, Asian families are big though? I thought

The second thought was: Can you uninvite someone to a wedding? Is it like marrying cousins – where no one really knows what the law on it is? Surely in the book of unwritten rules there’s a section on uninviting people?

Admittedly I was disappointed, my girlfriend had gone on holiday too at the time and so I knew it was either a night getting stupid drunk [which lately I’ve not been too bothered for] or staying in and watching films / playing videogames. Either way I would be eating a takeaway.

I didn’t get back to him straight away [long story short – new phone, Pay as You Go interim – how do chavs afford it? AND pay for the ringtone of whichever generic R&B currently tops the charts] but did saying something along the lines of “Fair enough, have a good time” a few days later.

I saw the pictures on Facebook and thought to myself [I think to myself loads – like a little monologue or sometimes I just have a a song playing in the background of my head imagining my life as a movie and selecting the appropriate soundtrack. In general: Coldplay = poignant moment [rare], Benny Hill tune = funny moment / running, Scouting for Girls when considering topping myself.] I’ve known him longer than so and so, why are they there?

Right, he’s not coming to my wedding! But then does that mean no one else that I hang out with at home is coming? I want them all there. I would’ve liked him to be there too.

Can you actually uninvite someone to a wedding?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realised just how little I actually knew about him. I have seen him maybe twice in the last year. These people who I didn’t really know probably have much more in common with him than I do and are better friends. And I figured that what he did was completely understandable.

That’s tough to swallow: the reality that you are not as close to anyone anymore. The people I grew up with, the people I went to school with, the people I still see when I go home – I’m not in any of those circles anymore.

But then there’s a reason for it. I kind of knew I was giving a huge chunk of that up when I moved to London. I’ve settled down much more and working in a really good job for a massive worldwide company.

Like the circle of life, everything comes back to the start. I began this rather long article by explaining how songs can remind you of certain situations. For me, it was mainly how much I missed home.

However, on the day of the wedding, I heard another song which reminded me of home: The Enemy’s We’ll Live and Die in These Towns. To many it can be a slightly cliched ‘Arctic Monkeys-alike-singing-about-growing-up-on-an-estate’ groan. But the talk about pubs smelling of desperation while haggled old women say ‘nothing happens to people like us’ would remind anyone of being 17 and going to any local boozer in Bradford.

For me though, it reminds me of why I left Bradford and why I left a whole load of friends. But most importantly, it reminds me of what I have now.

First day

Just finished my first day at Porter Novelli. Winding down before meeting up with Ben Matthews and Tom Malcolm for the Harvest Twestival.

Nowt really to say. As with any new job, there’s a load of reading documents, meeting loads of new people (whose names I’ll struggle to remember and like an idiot I tried to make small talk by asking them who their clients were-which i’ll inevitably get mixed up with someone else and look an idiot) and that’s it.

One of the first things i thought when i first stepped into the offices of Rainier PR was the glass reception which looked kind of like that bit in Commando (where he has the fight in the hotel room) and any other posh 80’s US apartment. The reception here is more like the the one in Die Hard-very corporate and intimdating but impressive.

There’s proper coffee every morning (And it’s free! I feel like the Queen of England) and Queensway is much nicer than the hustle and American-tourist thronged tunnel of hate that is Oxford Street.

Apart from that, things aren’t much different. there are similar processes in place as with any other agency, though i’m still getting used to the size. There’s twice as many people as Rainier PR and I’m rubbish with names. There’s also the problem of how much you socialise on your first day. You want to appear chatty but people have actually got work to do-you don’t want to disturb them or appear like you’ll just talk throughout the whole day. Nor do i want to appear like an inbred northerner with nothing to talk about but pies and coal.

I should really have ironed my shirt this morning too.

Hopefully tomorrow I’ll have something proper to do.

Things i learned today:

Lotus Notes is like the email version of C&P (for all those who have ever been unfortunate enough to use either). It’s the software equivalent of using a rusty big axe to cut the crusts off a sandwich

I’m crap at small talk

I really am gonna knuckle down next weekend and get the blog sorted properly

First Post

I’ve been meaning to start a blog for ages. I’m probably a year or two too late to be part of the cool kids like Davies, Benvie, Bruce, etc (whose blog posts are conspicuous by their absence) but that’s not the point. There’s already a load of blogs out there who are able to describe developments in the social media space with more wit and intelligence than me.

This blog has been created with the purpose of giving me a space to practice my writing and experiment with new tools. It’s all well and good being able to talk about Google Analytics because of one quick (and quickly forgotten) play. I want to be using the tools regularly so that rather than just talk about it, I can actually show how I’ve used it and find out nuances that others may not have discovered already.

Late on Monday night is probably not the best time to write my first blog post – especially as I wanted an early night tonight before I start my new job at Porter Novelli tomorrow. I had planned to write it while I was in-between jobs but became too busy getting addicted to Resident Evil 4.

So, my first post then. Starting with more of a fart than a bang. Hopefully things will pick up once I’ve got more interesting stuff to talk about.

Things I’m gonna give a whirl off the top of my head:

SpinVox for blogging

The other social networks

More digital blogs (i.e. less PR)

Using Twitter for something other than taking the piss

Thursday, April 24, 2008 – Team Twitter debuts

Last night two giants in European football battled it out in a titanic showcase of flair and skill in front of a packed stadium.

After accepting the challenge laid down by the PR industry’s rent boys, Gorkana, Team Twitter (we are working on the name) ventured to South London to pick up the pieces and restore what little respect the PR industry had before Gorkana pissed on Red PR 4-0 a few weeks ago.

The omens weren’t great – @domw cried off sick and Weber’s Jonny Rosemont couldn’t turn up because he was moving house. He wasn’t actually moving on that day but the stress of thinking about moving was too much of a strain to cope. I hope he can muster the energy to make James Warren cups of tea today.

But most importantly of all, Tim Hoang didn’t quite enjoy his pasta power lunch (bit salty).

So Team Twitter were reliant on teenage scamp, Ben Robyn Matthews who’s been out of work since Starship Troopers finished, last year’s apprentice winner and now Drew Benvie’s favourite tea maker, @tommalcolm, 47-and-a-half-year-old Paul Wooding, “the best keeper not to play professionally” (his words not anyone else’s) @CMRLee, and regular Rainier PR whores Samuel J Grace, Paul Allen (now freelancing at Nelson Bostock) and Tim Hoang (taking a break from filming Halifax adverts).

Starting badly, Team Twitter gave a goal away early doors as the capacity crowd made up of Gorkana employees cheered. This was then cancelled by a cracking goal from Ben Robyn and Samuel J Grace following some vicious ankle biting of defenders. Gorkana levelled and then went ahead through a penalty and a decent strike only for Tim Hoang to level with a shot from the far out. Remember Beckham against Wimbledon about ten years ago? It wasn’t anything like it – the keeper fumbled a swerving shot through his legs. 3-3.

Paul Wooding played a blinder on the right wing turning back the clock by about 25 years Lazarus-like (though he did eventually resemble a sweaty, exasperated marshmallow by the end), Paul Allen lead the line despite some selfishness from @tim_hoang and young ‘un, Ben, Sam Grace played wherever he could be arsed standing and @Tommalcolm marshalled the defence like a posh Rio Ferdinand keeping the ridiculously buff Gorkana forward in check until the last second as we brought on the old school rules of ‘last goal wins.’

All in all, it was a successful debut from Terrific Tim’s Team of Tad-average Twitterers (as we shall now be called) considering that Charlie Foxhunter and his Gorkana boys play every week (and having a proper kit and everything!).

Anyone with a pitch want a game?

“Sucking C*ck for Pennies”

You’ve probably seen it on telly – the world of PR is all about parties, getting drunk and whoring yourself. Patsy waltzes into a room says, ‘darling, darling’ at the top of her voice to a recipient of her alcoholic breath and slurs out an inane conversation from her mouthpiece. Neither individual cares what is said but they carry on wasting air that would be used more productively encouraging a forest fire somewhere in America. Some would call it legalised prostitution. I call it ‘networking’.

For all those who have ever worked with the general public, there is one undeniable universal truth – people are scumbags. Not just regular scumbags, mind, but invariably rude, arrogant and obnoxious morons with a deep disdain for life. The more mundane their job and the more unintelligent they are, the more likely they are to be horrible.

There are two sets of people that PROs (that’s PR Officers) have to hobnob with – clients and journalists. Clients are hard work, often you have very little in common and it can often be awkward, you (or at least I) generally avoid them for fear of saying anything wrong, but in the end they pay your wages and you appreciate and respect them even if you don’t always like them. Journalists, on the other hand, do not pay our wages but make you feel like a moron whilst squeezing your balls. At least that’s the impression I used to get from the vast majority of them. Journalists are regularly invited to PR parties where they get the royal treatment whilst the client and PR makes inroads so that they might write positively about the company later on.

My first proper encounter with journalists was at a football event probably a year ago (for all those following my shenanigans, it was the same event where we were saved by a prostitute when an illegal taxi man tried to steal our telly). Our client put on free booze in an expensive venue bang in the centre of Leicester Square and allowed journalists to view a crucial Euro 2008 qualifying match. I am generally quite an agreeable person. I can get on with people if I want to, though recently I’ve been rather moody and just a bit ago I had a conversation with a new member of staff where I just stared into space. I sat down next to a throng of lads about my age who’d just started working for a national newspaper. I was keen to speak to the junior journalists, build up contacts but, more importantly, try make new friends in London.

I was naïve. The group of posh lads – apparently the bane of my existence in London – began to really make me feel tiny. Whether they saw someone with such a coarse accent, or whether it was because I was in PR, they were laughing amongst themselves with that arrogant bravado way that only posh boys seem to be able to do. I ended up walking off in the middle of an extremely patronising conversation. Perhaps I should have stayed, after all if you have good contacts at a national newspaper your life is generally easier. But chest out, walking tall, I called them something extremely juvenile (under my breath – I might meet them again) and walked off, preferring to speak to a client.

However, it didn’t take me long to realise that not all journalists are like that. It’s just a job. I’d be annoyed if someone kept calling me to ask if they’d seen my rubbish press release about the world being round and rain being wet. I play football with a bunch of journalists and consider most of them friends and one of them, certainly, is one of my best mates down here. It’s a fantastic opportunity to network with some of the more prominent members of the IT trade press but I’m not sure how comfortable I am with it. It’s pretty silly really: if I my car had broken down I would not have any hesitations asking my mechanic mate Paul to have a look; if I need some renovations on my house I would ask my plasterer mate Dave how much it’d cost. But it’s a strange relationship between PROs and journalists, it’s like in the cop movies (and consequently EXACTLY like real life) where the policeman uses the criminal to grass on/infiltrate gangs whilst the baddie uses the copper to let him off the hook. It’s an uneasy win-win situation though without the gunfights and time travel and with more phone calls and slightly less Americanised English.

Now, there are a lot of my friends who say that I’m a ‘people person’ and that I find it easy to get on with others. I’m not a people person and I don’t find it easy when I do get on with people. It’s bloody hard. I hate people and I’d rather skin my face and shower in vinegar than try to listen to their inane chat. Being a bloke I’ve never been good at small talk either. Men hate talking to each other. When we are sat in the pub and you see a table of us actually have a listen to the conversation – it’s rubbish and all bravado, men challenging each other to see who can be the funniest or most knowledgeable or best at some worthless skill like videogames. Men should just get their nobs out as soon as they get in the pub, saving them all both time and money.

Being in the job that I do, I have started to learn the art of small talk – you have to. But what I have discovered is there are little ways to help you. Here’s the secret: there are only five days of the week that you have to pretend to like people. On weekends you can be as miserable as you want. If it’s at the beginning of the week (Monday and Tuesday) you ask how one’s weekend was, and if it’s later on in the week (Thursday or Friday) then ask what they will be doing on the weekend. Wednesdays I still haven’t quite figured out yet, but in my mind it is perfectly reasonable just to ignore everyone.

I make out that I have the wide-eyed innocence that is untainted by London’s harsh reality. I’m not, and I’m certainly not proud of what I am about to say…

I lost nearly a whole night’s sleep because I had whored myself out to a fellow blogger. I’ve always tried not to have proper professional relationships. The people I talk to, I’d like to think I talk to because I want to, not because I have to. Anyway, I met a gentleman who writes a technology PR blog which I actually follow – but I didn’t initially realise it was him I was talking to. It was suppose to be an informal drinks session with a journalist who would probably forget my name as soon as his free beer was finished. But after a very nice (but very geeky) conversation about social media, I realised who it was. It turned out that he also wrote for a publication which would be useful for a client I had. I did consciously make the decision and had evaluated how guilty I would feel – I knew it was bad but gave him my business card anyway, much to my regret.

I’ve changed. I admit it: I am a slut.

But like I said, all people are scumbags – me included…

http://www.bbc.co.uk/bradford/content/articles/2007/09/11/tim_hoang_blog_07_feature.shtml

Don’t hate the player…

It’s universally acknowledged that I am lousy at pulling. But what some may not know is that I am even worse at dating. I don’t know the rules, rubbish at reading signs, and to be honest I’d rather just get drunk. There are so many opportunities to meet new people in London, despite what others might say, but the long and short of it is that I’m lazy or if I do make the effort, the girl in question turns out to be 17 (don’t ask).

I always hate Valentine’s Day – it’s nothing more than a fake plastic commercial exercise on how to make money from scaring men: a fantastical annual PR stunt by the card manufacturers; like they have done with Uncles Day and Aunty-on-your-dad’s-side-twice-removed Day. In the future whilst we are all fighting huge branded robotic ants for control of the last drops of oil, our descendants will look back and laugh at what a materialistic life we have lead before being carried off to be impregnated by Queen Ant. And for what reason? Because people are idiots. And men are the worst because they are scared of women. Ask any bloke what he really thinks of Valentine’s Day and he’ll tell you, if he’s honest, that he hates making an effort – and because he isn’t on the pull anymore, he hates it even more (guys only begrudgingly make any effort when they are courting). If it was up to us, Valentine’s Day would be a fry-up in the morning, telly and then an early night. It’s the cards I can’t stand – they are just a drain on our already dilapidated forestry. Fair enough buying presents that are practical (an XBOX360 would be ideal) but a card with a poem written by Purple Ronnie?

For this inane reason, and for this reason alone, our Wednesday night five-a-side football was cancelled. Having been single for up to a year after coming out of a long term relationship I decided to go out and have a pop. I couldn’t bear to be on my own, sat eating a Pot Noodle, playing Pro Evo, it’s depressing enough as it is, without it being on the most ‘fake romantic day of the year’.

I met a girl when the Old Street Old Boys (the guys who I play football with) had our Christmas do. We went to London’s equivalent of Queen’s Hall. Sticky floor? Check! Sweaty cushioned walls? Check! Old lady gyrating furiously and thrusting her crotch in our direction? Check! (And still giving me nightmares to this day). As you can tell it was hardly the height of sophistication, but we didn’t care, after all we’d just finished playing football and were all smelly, I had my Chinese afro from the sweat and we were all stupidly drunk from the dehydration. There are no better nights.

I somehow managed to get this girl’s number and texted her a few times after but never really thought anything of it – she was my portal to other girls as far as I was concerned (I CAN put that – and yes, she’ll read it too). When Valentine’s Day came up I thought, on the off-chance, I’ll see what she was up to – after all, ‘what did I have to lose’ would be the adult way of looking at it but in reality I had my pride, ego and self esteem (and the 10p wasted on the text message) on the line.

She replied saying she had nothing planned and asked whether I would fancy going to this place with her. OK, it was a Salsa class. I’m not scared to admit it. But I’d like to refer to it as some sort of Gangsta dance club from now on – actually it sounds even worse: Salsa will have to do.

I’m crap at dancing, and my pseudo-indie pointing is the best shape I can throw. But London’s about trying new things – so what the hell. I went out for a drink with her, made sure I was a bit wasted before going and making a tit of myself. Secretly, I also thought that even if I didn’t like her – at least at that sort of place there’d be a load of girls and it’d be like those Amazon women living in the jungle who use to kidnap men to impregnate them and then send them back to Greece (I watched it in Hercules once), but with Salsa dancing. How wrong I was…

Upon our arrival I was greeted by a deluge of well-oiled men all having the same idea as me but being able to dance. She was an intermediate but asked if I wanted to do the beginners’ class. When a girl asks a guy if he wants to do something less difficult than what she’s doing there is no evaluation process – we are automatically configured to say, ‘No thanks. Bring me the hard stuff.’ I did do a class of step aerobics once, so how hard could it be?

Oh, how I regret not paying attention to those James Nesbit/Yellow Pages adverts.

I ended up messing it up for her and each person I partnered with and because there were more boys than girls I was either stood on my own or getting propositioned by guys. I proceeded to get drunk on my own at the bar watching her dance like the bit in the new(ish) Romeo and Juliet where Leo’s watching Clare Dane’s floating around. She looked gorgeous, almost fairy-like, completely in contrast to the clumsy part of a drunken stupor that I had found myself in. I spent the rest of the night on the sidelines: bored and steadily more drunk.

Despite this, she was keen on meeting up again and made me watch that Hugh Grant film, Music and Lyrics, with her the following Friday. I hate dating. But at least the rumours at work about me being gay can be put to rest. And my dad can stop awkwardly asking me about girls and stuff just to make sure I won’t be bringing Rupert or Sam home to meet the parents…

This article originally appeared here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/bradford/content/articles/2007/03/22/tim_hoang_blog_06_feature.shtml