The Great Alien Invasion: How I Invaded Milton Keynes, A Radio Station and People's Minds.

 My Foray Into Guerilla Marketing. 

I had never heard of Guerilla Marketing until I was aksed to be involved in a Guerilla Marketing Campaign. It just so happend that a company was looking for someone who resembled a slim, pale, 6ft+ alien. I had found my calling. The plan was to creat a viral campaign that would cause a stir and claw its way through the internet. We certainly caused a stir, and pissed a few people off.

This is me as the alien. 

What is Guerilla Marketing?

Guerrila Marketing uses unconventional methods to get people talking about a business and, in some cases, to boost sales. Campaigns like this can ruffle a few feathers; they can be clever and they certainly get people talking. I (the alien) was the unconventional method. The campaign was set up to get people talking about a certain college. All the information is online and I will provide links as I go. So, what actually happened?

An Angry YouTuber, The Men In Black And My Own Cartoon. 

I arrived at the offices of an advertising company and I was met by a make up artist who, to this day, is still one of the nicest make up artists I have met. Everyone in the industry knows how wonderful they are. I wish I could remember her name. She immediately put me at ease and recounted numerous stories about her years in the industry. I could have listened to her for hours. She spray painted me white. I am pale anyway, but this was a whole new level. My ears, neck, head, hands and upper arms, all white. I donned a thick, slim fitting black jacket, black trousers and black boots. To finish the look I had a black back pack which contained food and drink from a local supermarket. Get this, the bag lit up. I looked like a character from Tron. I loved it. My job was simple. I had to walk around the town centre. That was it. If people came up to me I was to hand them a card that had a code on it. The cards were black squares with mysterious symbols punched in to them. They looked otherworldly. I was to hand them out, but I could not speak. I did have a chaperone to make sure I was safe during my visits to the streets, and to feed me at regular intervals, as you would a real alien, I imagine. My chaperone was a lovely man who was at least five metres behind me, should I be grabbed, groped or bundled in to a van. By the way, all of those things happened, and only one of them was planned. 

Over a span of two weeks I traversed the streets in my alien get-up. Sometimes sporting a brollie, weather permitting, of course. I'm not a complete dick. I'll discuss the brollie in due course. Something to get excited about. As the days went by, I became known throughout town as the mysterious outsider, the unknown entity, a twat. All those wonderful things. People came for photos, bringing their scared children along, too. I was captured sitting on a bench with a woman and a child glaring at me innapropriately. Follow this link for evidence. My best friend or "chaperone," as he preferred to be called, lead me into the main shopping centre, or mall, if you're sexy and American. It was not long before I was followed around by the odd teenager or a couple of adults. Sometimes they'd be carrying children or shopping. Never both. A burly man began following me. I knew who he was because he had the word "SECURITY" on his back and breast pocket. 

"Can I ask you what you're doing here?"

I should remind you that I had taken a vow of silence, and was being paid handsomely to do so. 

"Excuse me? You're making people uncomfortable."

I had no doubt that this was true, but I hadn't actually done anything wrong. For all he knew, I could just be a fan of face paint and glowing back packs. I simply stared lovingly into his eyes.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Can you talk?"

This line of questioning went on for another minute or so. I believe my chaperone stepped in at some point and escorted me out. My vow of silence hadn't gone down well. 

I realised I was beginning to get under people's skin when I was followed by a group of rowdy teenage girls who continued to heckle me one afternoon. I was a little afraid they'd start throwing stones or chasing me. One day I heard quick footsteps behind me. Before I could turn around, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and I was lifted up in the air. The culprit plonked my back on the ground, high fived me and marched along with his friend. My chaperone didn't have time to react. It all happened so fast. I had never been picked up from behind by a stranger before or since. To say it is terrifying is an understatement. All jokes aside, I felt momentarilly helpless and disorientated. Lucky for me, there was no malicious intent. 

One night I trawled the social medias to see what people had been saying, if anything. One Youtuber had created an incoherent video about how much he hated the character and the people who were buying in to it. I won't post the video, but it did make me laugh. Another person created a cartoon of the character  which you can watch here . Memes even popped up on facebook. Below is one of my favourites. 

The cartoon depicts me in a radio station, referring to an interview I did in relation to the college I was promoting. The company had planted a smoke machine prior to me arriving, which I believe one or both presenters knew about. In the cartoon, the animator lovingly depicts the smoke as the consequence of a rogue fart. Thank you. The plan was for me to arrive mysteriously with my brolly. Kind of like a vampire protecting himself from the sun. A few questions and answers had been planned as well. The interview went without a hitch. The smoke machine engulfed us all in grey cloud, the presenters oo'd and aa'd in all the right places, and then I departed, waltzing away with my brolly swinging over my head (not a euphemism).

The final publicity stunt was the arrival of the Men In Black. A lovely group of guys. Some actors from theatre and film and some supporting artists. They had responded to a casting for people fairly local, I imagine, to act as special agents for a couple of hours. Unfortunately, as you can see from the video, we hadn't gathered too much of a crowd. The majority of onlookers were eating lunch and wondering who the hell I was and why a group of smart suits were escorting me away. 

So, why am I telling you this? Doing this job opened me up to the fact that the world of acting and performing is much bigger than being on a stage or behind a camera. There's a miriad of jobs out there relating to the industry of performing. If you can find them, they can pay rather well. 

Next week I will tell you how I came to be waltzing around in a Yorkshire forest in only my boxers whilst being splashed with blue paint. Lovely.