Blighty BoffinsWe cog your gears of innovation

About

The jokes stay in. The work still has to be right.

Finding the right person, the right kit, and a job worth doing has always taken too many emails. Blighty Boffins is the introduction: part brokerage, part salon, part very well-organised noticeboard.

We take the work seriously and ourselves only as seriously as is useful. Wit is a form of precision. Class is knowing when to stop talking.

Search finds the people and the kit. That is necessary, and not sufficient. We added a tone that does not treat innovation as a lifestyle, and a work-package exchange so a collaboration can become a job.

The inventory is the usual mix: universities that still believe in a bench, research centres that measure things, startups that work out of units with decent pie shops, and industrial teams who would like a number rather than a vision.

We introduce. We do not take equity in the introduction, and we do not pretend to be the experiment. If you need a collaborator, a piece of equipment, or applicants for a scoped package, you are in the right yard.

The catalogue today

Small on purpose. A comprehensive index of undifferentiated entries is precisely the thing that does not work.

Why this exists

The people, the kit and the money are all in the country already. What is missing is a plain sentence that says what the job is, sent to somebody capable of doing it.

Everyone involved knows this. An academic with a well-equipped laboratory spends a surprising amount of time unaware of the firm eight miles away with exactly the problem her group is best at. That firm, meanwhile, has concluded that universities are slow, because the one approach it made went to a central address and produced a meeting about a memorandum of understanding.

Both parties were reasonable. The mechanism was the problem. Blighty Boffins is an attempt at a better mechanism, and a deliberately unambitious one: a described catalogue, a noticeboard for scoped work, and a form that passes an application to whoever published it.

What we actually are

A brokerage. We do not fund research, employ researchers, own equipment or perform the work. We describe who can, we host the jobs, and we make introductions.

This is a narrower role than the word 'platform' usually implies, and we prefer it that way. Organisations that broker introductions and also compete for the work have a conflict that eventually shows. We have no position in the outcome beyond wanting the introduction to have been a good one.

There is no commission on work that results from an introduction, and no equity taken in anything. The commercial model is straightforwardly boring: sponsored listings for facilities and organisations that want to be found, and paid support for publishers who want help scoping a package properly.

How the catalogue is chosen

It is small on purpose. We list groups, facilities and organisations that are genuinely open to collaboration and can describe what they are good for. We do not attempt to index every research group in the country, because a comprehensive index of undifferentiated entries is precisely the thing that does not work.

Every entry is written to be checkable. A facility says its lead time, its cost basis and its limitations. A boffin says what they are looking for and what they would decline. An organisation says how to approach it and what will slow you down.

Where an entry would be more useful if it were less flattering, we make it less flattering, with the subject's agreement. Facility managers have consistently told us this produces better enquiries, which is the entire object.

On the tone

The language of innovation brokerage has drifted a long way from the language of engineering. One speaks of ecosystems and transformative potential; the other speaks of tolerances, duty cycles and the temperature at which the coating spalls. The first vocabulary is built to be unfalsifiable. The second is built to be checked.

We write in the second, as nearly as a website can manage. A description specific enough to be wrong is specific enough to be useful.

We are not being irreverent about the engineering, which is difficult, consequential, and done by people who deserve better than a brochure. We are being irreverent about the packaging around it, which has grown considerably faster than the work.

House rules

Six things we keep insisting on

  • Specific nouns

    A tolerance, a duty cycle, a possession window, a chamber slot. Abstractions are where accountability goes to hide, and they make an entry impossible to check.

  • The awkward fact, stated early

    Every real piece of work has one. Publishers instinctively conceal it and applicants find it in week six. We would rather it appeared on the page.

  • A negative result is a result

    A well-evidenced no, arriving in month three, is one of the cheapest things an organisation can buy. Several packages here say so outright.

  • Measurement before metaphor

    A claim without an uncertainty is a hope with units attached. If a number matters commercially, somebody should be able to say how it was obtained.

  • The calendar is part of the engineering

    Weather windows, possessions, approvals and facility slots decide more programmes than technical merit does. They belong near the top of a package, not in an appendix.

  • Introduce, then withdraw

    Once two parties are talking, we are surplus. We take no commission, hold no position, and have no view on who should win.

Where we are

Clerkenwell, and wherever the kit is

Meetings are by arrangement — in a lab, a boardroom, or somewhere with a decent pot of tea.

Blighty Boffins is an innovation brokerage. We introduce; we do not pretend to be the experiment.