We need to talk about the “Default-to-Boring” setting that seems to be the factory standard for UK manufacturing CPDs. It’s a tragedy, really. We have these incredible feats of engineering—products that literally hold up the London skyline or keep the heat in a Grade II listed terrace—and we present them with the charisma of a damp digestive biscuit.
If you want to maintain a consistent tone across twenty different modules, you have to stop thinking like a technical writer and start thinking like a showrunner for a prestige Netflix series. Or perhaps, more accurately, like a high-end bespoke tailor.
Signalling and Psychological Value
Why do we care about consistency? Is it because we’re all slightly obsessive-compulsive? No. It’s because consistency is a high-cost signal.
In nature, if an animal has perfectly symmetrical markings, it signals health and genetic fitness. In the world of UK specification, if your “Fire Safety in Rainscreen Cladding” module feels exactly like your “Acoustic Performance in Schools” module, you are signalling organisational fitness. You are telling the architect, “We are so well-ordered internally that even our fonts match across three years of development.”
If your tone is all over the shop, the subconscious mind of the architect assumes your supply chain is probably a mess, too. It’s an irrational leap, but as humans, we are gloriously irrational. Logic says the product is what matters; psychology says the vibe of the company determines the trust in the product.
Going Into the Weeds with Gusto
Consistency doesn’t mean being shallow. You can go deep—scary deep—into the molecular structure of a polymer, provided you do it with the same intellectual curiosity every single time.
I’ve seen CPDs where Module 1 feels like a primary school assembly and Module 2 feels like a PhD thesis on thermodynamics. That is a “context shift” that creates massive friction. You want to aim for what I call “The Sophisticated Peer.” Talk to the architect like someone who knows exactly how hard their job is.
Don’t just give them facts; give them the arcana. Give them the “dirty little secrets” of the industry. “Look, the British Standard says X, but between you and me, the real-world performance usually does Y because of Z.” If you maintain that “insider” tone across every module, you aren’t just a manufacturer anymore. You’re a member of the tribe.
The Architecture of the Narrative Arc
Every module should follow the same psychological “Hero’s Journey.”
- The Villain: The regulatory hurdle or the physical limitation (e.g., Part L requirements).
- The Struggle: Why traditional methods are failing or becoming too expensive.
- The Revelation: The behavioural or technical reframe.
- The Resolution: Your product, presented not as a widget, but as a “Solution to a Headache.”
If you nail this structure, the tone follows naturally. You become the reliable narrator.
Avoiding the “Corporate Grey” Trap
The greatest risk to consistency is the committee. You know the one—where the Legal department, the Marketing department, and the Head of Engineering all get a red pen. By the time they’re done, the prose is so “safe” it has no edges. It becomes “Corporate Grey.”
To fight this, you need a “Tone of Voice Manifesto.” This isn’t a 50-page PDF that no one reads. It’s five rules.
- Rule 1: We use the active voice. (We don’t say “The bricks were laid”; we say “The contractor lays the bricks.”)
- Rule 2: We admit when things are difficult. (Honesty builds more trust than a glossy brochure.)
- Rule 3: We use analogies involving everyday objects. (If a thermal bridge is like a hole in a bucket, say it.)
- Rule 4: We never use the word ‘innovative’. (If it’s innovative, describe the innovation; don’t label it.)
- Rule 5: We write for the ear, not just the eye.
The Asymmetric Payoff of Wit
A little dry, British wit is the ultimate “Consistency Glue.” It’s the seasoning. You don’t want to be a clown, but a well-placed observation about the absurdity of building sites or the “joy” of value engineering creates a bond.
When you maintain this “knowing smile” across all modules, you reduce the “Cognitive Load” of the learner. They know what to expect. They know they won’t be bored to tears. They actually want to click on the next module. And in a world where attention is the scarcest resource on the planet, that is the only metric that actually matters.
The Final Catalyst
Consistency is not about repetition; it is about rhythm.
Stop treating your modules like independent silos of information. Start treating them like chapters in a definitive book on how to build a better future. The moment you view your technical content as a cohesive intellectual legacy, the tone will fix itself.
Draft a one-page “Tone Manifesto” for your technical team this afternoon and watch the friction in your content creation disappear.