So how are tobacco firms going to advertise e-cigarettes?

A sexy comeback?

It looks like doubles all round: ad agency execs are no doubt rubbing their hands in glee. Christmas may come early this year for some ad execs. Tobacco advertising is making an unexpected comeback. Not a misprint – ciggy firms are already plugging their wares on US television. It really is like going back in time.

This is all to do with e-cigarettes. And this may just be the start. These little electronic gadgets contain a battery and a replaceable cartridge that turn nicotine and other chemicals into vapour inhaled by the user. 

Lorillard, the third-largest US tobacco company and owner of the Newport brand, snapped up Blu e-cigs last year for over $100m. Since October, it has been running TV ads starring actor Steven Dorff: sales are booming. Cue Lorillard’s rivals getting in on the act. Altria – parent company of Philip Morris and owner of the Marlbro brand – is launching its first e-cig.

RJ Reynolds (Camel and Winston are among its killer brands) is to ramp up its e-cig activity via its Vuse product. Reynolds is readying a TV ad campaign to roll out promoting Vuse as early as August. Meantime, British American Tobacco (BAT) - Benson & Hedges, Dunhill and John Player count among its brands - will promote an e-cig branded Vype.

At each firm, there is one common and hugely predictable theme: multi-million pound or dollar marketing budgets. And this is where things may become interesting. Just how will ad creatives promote the latest incarnation of the supposedly safe cigarette?

Then there is the matter of brand ambassadors? In the past, actors such as Ronald Reagan, Bob Hope and Rock Hudson plugged Chesterfield cigarettes; Phil (Sgt Bilko) Silvers was the face of Camel.

In the UK, I recall class ads from early schooldays for Manikin cigars featuring Bond Girl actress and model Caroline Munro. Sheer enjoyment from Manikin, I think ran the tagline. Sheer lechery more like.

Other memorable tobacco ads included Ronnie Corbett and Gregor Fisher: they were at least given some decent scripts (to the accompaniment of Bach’s Air on the G String) to plug Hamlet cigars.

The wonderful George Cole, in his pre-Minder days, was also on a "nice little earner" plugging Benson & Hedges.

Among contemporary actors and celebs who continue to smoke real cigs, who might agencies turn to? Rhianna? Britney? Eva Mendes? Or how about Simon Cowell, regularly snapped with cig in hand?

Agents for other celeb smokers such as Kerry Katona or Jeremy Clarkson may not be in heavy demand but who knows. Courtney Love has been the front-woman in ads for the Njoy brand of e-cigs.

Other possibles might include Kate Moss or better still: Cheryl Cole. I have a vague notion that she has snapped with cig in hand not so long ago. On a more serious point: can tobacco firms – given the mendacious nature of much of its past advertising – be trusted to advertise e-cigs responsibly?

For that matter, concerns remain about certain aspects of these firms recent marketing activity in emerging markets such as China and Indonesia. All of this marketing and M&A activity is gathering steam ahead of any definitive evidence about e-cigarette safety. Research to date – such as there has been - suggests that the vapour emitted by e-cigs is not harmful. It consists largely of water and there seem to be no issues about passive e-cig smoking.

The UK government is still to determine if e-cigs are to be licensed and regulated as an aid to quit smoking. Medical experts have been stepping up their lobbying of government to classify e-cigs as a form of nicotine-replacement therapy. That would mean that the products would be subject to strict checks.

Not so long ago the tobacco industry lobbied and argued and spun ad nauseam that increased regulation and ad restrictions would spell the death knell for the entire industry. They got that wrong; totally, utterly wrong in fact. Tobacco firms have very low amounts of debt and in recent years have offered their shareholders inflation protection and strong dividends. Given their track record of business forecasts, it might be prudent to take with a pinch of salt all that the tobacco sector says about the business prospects for e-cigs.

We may at least see some decent ads though.

Photograph: Getty Images

Douglas Blakey is the editor of Retail Banker International

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What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.