P.T. Barnum famously said
“There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
I’m not entirely sure there’s such a thing as wonderfully good publicity either.
At some point, it becomes less a profile piece and more a hostage negotiation with your ego.
Recently, a business magazine approached me to do a feature on communication, leadership and psychology. I assumed it might be a couple of pages, a pleasant interview, perhaps the odd flattering adjective if the journalist had enjoyed their second coffee.
Instead, somewhere along the line, it appears my imaginary PR team got access to the editorial controls and started behaving like they’d just discovered espresso martinis.
The final result was a glossy multi-page feature describing me in terms so complimentary that, reading it back, I found myself thinking: “This bloke sounds exhausting.”
There’s an old line comedians and speakers use when they receive an overly generous stage introduction:
“Thank you for that wonderful introduction. I can hardly wait to hear what I’ve got to say.”
That was more or less my emotional state reading the article.
Apparently, according to this feature, I have transformed leadership communication, reshaped business psychology, influenced global executives, pioneered Humourology®, elevated boardrooms and empowered organisations.
I believe the editor finally drew the line at claiming that I’d been nominated for the FIFA World Peace Prize.
The Imaginary PR Team Takes Control
Now, to be fair, the editorial team were wonderfully enthusiastic, patient and generous throughout the process, even if I occasionally felt obliged to ring them and ask whether they were absolutely sure they had the right Paul Boross.
And here’s the strange psychological truth beneath all this.
Most British people are profoundly uncomfortable receiving praise.
We are culturally trained to deflect compliments as though they are low-flying objects.
“You were brilliant.”
“Oh no, not really.”“You changed the company culture.”
“Absolute nonsense. I merely adjusted the flipchart.”
It’s hard to blow your own trumpet in Britain. We’re culturally trained to apologise for even owning a trumpet.
But it is undeniably pleasant when somebody else blows it for you.
(Steady now)
The British Allergy to Praise
This is where humour becomes psychologically useful.
Humour protects us from pomposity.
A healthy sense of humour acts like an emotional pressure valve. It allows us to accept appreciation without disappearing into narcissism. It stops confidence hardening into ego. The ability to laugh at yourself is one of the healthiest traits a leader can possess because it keeps you grounded while still allowing you to stand tall.
In Humourology terms, self-aware humour creates psychological balance.
Too little humility and you become unbearable.
Too little confidence and nobody hears you.
The sweet spot is somewhere between:
“I’m secretly quite pleased with this”
and
“Please nobody mention this at dinner.”
Humour as an Emotional Pressure Valve
There is also another important leadership lesson hidden in all this.
Many brilliant people struggle to communicate their value because they fear sounding arrogant. I see this constantly with senior executives, entrepreneurs and founders. They minimise achievements, underplay expertise and almost apologise for success.
Ironically, the people most likely to oversell themselves are often the least qualified.
The genuinely capable usually arrive with caveats.
Humour can help bridge that gap.
A little self-awareness allows people to talk about success without sounding inflated. It softens the edges. It signals humanity. It quietly says:
“Yes, I know this all sounds slightly ridiculous too.”
That is often the difference between confidence and self-importance.
Confidence Without the Trumpet Solo
Of course, I won’t suddenly become any better at my job because of a glossy magazine feature than I was before it appeared. But if it persuades a few new people to work with me, hire me or listen to the Humourology Podcast, I shall nobly struggle on.
And truthfully, beneath the jokes, there is something genuinely lovely about being recognised for work you care deeply about.
Communication matters.
Leadership matters.
Helping people express themselves more clearly, courageously and humanly matters.
So yes, I laughed while reading the article.
But I was also grateful.
As comedians know better than most, the healthiest response to praise is neither denial nor arrogance.
It’s gratitude with a raised eyebrow.
Warmest,
Paul x
P.S. If anyone needs me, I’ll be casually leaving several copies of the magazine in highly visible places around Soho House while pretending to be embarrassed about it.
