"Man of the match", "keep calm and carry on", and other phrases you might get sued for using

Odd trademarks.

OFS Group is selling the rights to the phrase "Man of the Match". The trademark could fetch millions, as the owner will be able to sue companies who are using the phrase without their consent. It seems odd that such a well known phrase can be bought and sold, but it's not an isolated case. Here are some other surprising trademarks:

“Keep Calm and Carry On”

The wartime slogan wasn't trademarked until 2007, where it was registered by Surrey businessman Mark Coop in a landmark case of entrepeneurial spirit overcoming Blitz spirit. On his first attempt, in Britain, he was laughed out of the courtroom, but he managed to get it overruled by the European Union. He immediately started serving notices on other companies to get their versions of the poster withdrawn.

"Let’s Get Ready to Rumble"

This "very '80s" phrase was taken by Michael Buffer, the boxing and wrestling announcer. He licenced it to New York City taxi cabs in the late 1990s, where it was used, in his own voice, as a reminder for passengers to buckle their seatbets: "Let's get ready to rumble.... for SAFETY!" He also adapted it for a Kraft cheese commercial ("Lets get ready to crumble!"), although he has yet to take ownership of the adaptations fumble, bumble and stumble. By 2009 the phrase made him over £246m.

"That's hot"

Paris Hilton has had rights to the phrase  since 2007 - a bumper year for the franchising of ubiquitous phrases. She put the flexible phrase to use promoting a canned version of a sparkling wine called Rich Prosecco.


"That's hot" has been trademarked by Paris Hilton. Photograph, Getty Images.
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Want to know how you really behave as a doctor? Watch yourself on video

There is nothing quite like watching oneself at work to spur development – and videos can help us understand patients, too.

One of the most useful tools I have as a GP trainer is my video camera. Periodically, and always with patients’ permission, I place it in the corner of my registrar’s room. We then look through their consultations together during a tutorial.

There is nothing quite like watching oneself at work to spur development. One of my trainees – a lovely guy called Nick – was appalled to find that he wheeled his chair closer and closer to the patient as he narrowed down the diagnosis with a series of questions. It was entirely unconscious, but somewhat intimidating, and he never repeated it once he’d seen the recording. Whether it’s spending half the consultation staring at the computer screen, or slipping into baffling technospeak, or parroting “OK” after every comment a patient makes, we all have unhelpful mannerisms of which we are blithely unaware.

Videos are a great way of understanding how patients communicate, too. Another registrar, Anthony, had spent several years as a rheumatologist before switching to general practice, so when consulted by Yvette he felt on familiar ground. She began by saying she thought she had carpal tunnel syndrome. Anthony confirmed the diagnosis with some clinical tests, then went on to establish the impact it was having on Yvette’s life. Her sleep was disturbed every night, and she was no longer able to pick up and carry her young children. Her desperation for a swift cure came across loud and clear.

The consultation then ran into difficulty. There are three things that can help CTS: wrist splints, steroid injections and surgery to release the nerve. Splints are usually the preferred first option because they carry no risk of complications, and are inexpensive to the NHS. We watched as Anthony tried to explain this. Yvette kept raising objections, and even though Anthony did his best to address her concerns, it was clear she remained unconvinced.

The problem for Anthony, as for many doctors, is that much medical training still reflects an era when patients relied heavily on professionals for health information. Today, most will have consulted with Dr Google before presenting to their GP. Sometimes this will have stoked unfounded fears – pretty much any symptom just might be an indication of cancer – and our task then is to put things in proper context. But frequently, as with Yvette, patients have not only worked out what is wrong, they also have firm ideas what to do about it.

We played the video through again, and I highlighted the numerous subtle cues that Yvette had offered. Like many patients, she was reticent about stating outright what she wanted, but the information was there in what she did and didn’t say, and in how she responded to Anthony’s suggestions. By the time we’d finished analysing their exchanges, Anthony could see that Yvette had already decided against splints as being too cumbersome and taking too long to work. For her, a steroid injection was the quickest and surest way to obtain relief.

Competing considerations must be weighed in any “shared” decision between a doctor and patient. Autonomy – the ability for a patient to determine their own care – is of prime importance, but it isn’t unrestricted. The balance between doing good and doing harm, of which doctors sometimes have a far clearer appreciation, has to be factored in. Then there are questions of equity and fairness: within a finite NHS budget, doctors have a duty to prioritise the most cost-effective treatments. For the NHS and for Yvette, going straight for surgery wouldn’t have been right – nor did she want it – but a steroid injection is both low-cost and low-risk, and Anthony could see he’d missed the chance to maximise her autonomy.

The lessons he learned from the video had a powerful impact on him, and from that day on he became much more adept at achieving truly shared decisions with his patients.

This article first appeared in the 01 October 2015 issue of the New Statesman, The Tory tide