Tag: Cricket

7 Reasons The 2011 ODI Series Between Australia And England Was Really Rather Tiresome

At last! It’s over! England’s tour of Australia finally finished yesterday after being emphatically thumped by the antipodeans in the ODI series. What better way to celebrate it then than to analyse the disaster?

Straussy didn’t look very impressed when his twitter update appeared on the big screen

1. Predictability. I am just as guilty as you are. When the ODI series started, I thought England might have a chance. You can’t argue with history though and to be frank England didn’t even bother trying. Whoever wins the Ashes loses the ODI series. It is a well established pattern and one we should do well to remember next time. As supporters we waste a lot of energy worrying about defeat, it is much healthier to accept the inevitable before it occurs. I’ll certainly be giving it a go next time.

2. Injuries. It seems fairly obvious to me that the more matches there are, the greater the likelihood of picking up an injury. And I mean both mental and physical. In the past few weeks I have switched on the radio seven times to find out the score and each time I have heard a commentator saying it’s been a disappointing performance so far from England. My heart has sunk so many times I am amazed it’s not lodged somewhere around my groinal area. And there’s the physical injuries too. I stubbed my toe walking downstairs to watch the fifth ODI. That just wouldn’t have happened if the ODI series had been over three games. It’s so unnecessary.

3. Future Planning. It amazes me how stupid the organisers of cricket at both an International and Domestic level are. The World Cup should be the pinnacle of One-Day cricket. Surely you would want everyone from every nation fit, firing and ready for one of the major events in the sporting calender? Well, obviously not. Thanks to the organisers, we, the viewer, has less than three weeks to adjust our cricket watching body clock. Instead of programming our bodies to be awake from 3am, we now need to be awake from 8am. That’s a five hour shift! The sooner the organisers realise we are not robots, the better.

4. Motivation. I’ll be honest, to me it appeared as if it was lacking. Once we had watched England win the Ashes* we seemed to lack the appetite for the rest of the tour. Whether we just wanted sleep or we were bored of playing the same team, our hunger had gone. And that’s not good. Not for us or for cricket. Every single time England play we should be desperate to stay up and watch it. So unexcited was I with the spectacle yesterday, that I made up my own game. The plan was to try and get the previous night’s dishes done before England lost a wicket. I lost. Four times.

5. Ponting. Usually, one would be able to take some solace from the fact that, although we lost, at least Ponting didn’t score many. Instead of that, this series we have had to deal with Shane Watson – a player with very limited abilities – twatting our bowlers all over Australia. And if he failed, Mitchell Johnson would do it. Plain silliness.

6. Heathrow Jubilation. If the England team had flown home at the end of the Ashes I would probably have made the trip to the airport to receive the thanks from Andrew Strauss and co for my support. Because of this needless ODI series though, half the team are already back. Even though the Urn will make its way through arrivals tomorrow I don’t think I deserve the thanks of Andrews Strauss anymore. I just didn’t show the commitment to these ODIs that I should have done. So I won’t be going.

7. It Just Was. I’m even bored writing about it now. It just wasn’t very good was it? And quite frankly, no one cares. Which sums up the point of the series quite beautifully I think. Bring on the Ashes in 2013. And 2013/14. And 2015.

*Get in!

February 7, 2011
7 Reasons That Ricky Ponting is the Second Coming of Christ

As I was walking yesterday, on the road to Sainsbury’s, a strange and life-changing event occurred. I strolled past a man carrying a newspaper and, upon the back of that newspaper there was a picture. An image of Ricky Ponting looking glum. Christ, I thought, doesn’t that miserable bastard ever look happy? And then, suddenly and without warning, there was a blinding flash of light and a sonorous and divine voice did appear from the sky and say, “Ah look, mate, why do you persecute me?”

I fell to the floor: “Who are you,” I stammered meekly.

“I am Punter, whom you are persecuting,” he replied. “Now rise and get thee unto the supermarket, and you will be told what you must do.”

Blimey, that was weird, I thought, and went to the supermarket as I was bidden. And, to cut a very long story short, in the manner of Saul on the road to Damascus, I, Marc* on the road to Sainsbury’s, had had an epiphany. I realised that I had been wrong all along about Ricky Ponting and had done him many disservices over the years. And now I have truly seen the light and it is my divine mission to tell the world of his glory; here are the seven reasons why Punter is the true successor to our lord Jesus Christ.

Ricky, as he appeared to me on the road to Sainsbury's.

1. The Name. If things look right, and sound right, then they generally are. And when I tried to think of a way to link the names of Jesus and Ponting, I have to admit, I struggled. But then I realised that true struggle is the lot of a disciple, and that I’d just have to think harder. And, lo, I thought harder. But other than the names Ponting and Christ being interchangeable as profane expletives in my heathen life prior to my conversion, I could find very little to link them. Then it hit me: A portmanteau word. Ricky Ponting is no longer merely Punter the cricket captain. He now has a divine and biblical-sounding title. He will henceforth be known as…The Pontychrist.

Ah, look. It's the Pontychrist!

2. Miracles. Jesus was famed for his making of miracles. Specifically, for eking out very little, to make a lot. He turned water into wine, and he fed five-thousand people when equipped with a small quantity of bread and fish; a situation in which a lesser bearded-man – such as Captain Birdseye – merely invented the fish finger. And, in the manner of Jesus, Ponting (who, though not bearded of face, is bearded of arm), the new saviour, is attempting to win the Ashes with a mere nineteen runs from the first two tests. And when he pulls it off, it will be hailed as one of the greatest miracles ever seen. Greater, even, than when he takes a stroll across Sydney Harbour without using the bridge after the fifth test, and greater than when he turns Toohey’s into wine. Or Beer into a world-beating bowler.

3. Serendipity. This current Ashes series began in almost an exact word-for-word replay of one of Christ’s most famous quotes because Australia opened the bowling in the first test. And so it was that he, who is without spin, cast the first stone (or ball, as we call them these days). In fact, like his famous forebear, Ponting tries as much as possible to live a blameless life where lesser men (England) are happy to live a life of spin. In the grand tradition of divine saviours, The Pontychrist is more spinned against, than spinning.

4. The Devil. There would be no need for the coming of Ponting if it weren’t for the presence of darkness among man. Who then, is his nemesis, his bête noire, his archfiend, his foe, the Mephistopheles to his Good Shepherd? It can’t be Andrew Strauss; he’s too nice, he is a mere instrument of the devil. For Beelzebub himself is cunning, yet is vain, and so gives himself away through his choice of name. I ask you, what rhymes with horn? That’s right, many, many, many things but, specifically in this case, Vaughan. Behold The Antipontychrist! For though he has now been banished unto the commentary box for the duration of the series – which if the final test ends on day three will have lasted for forty days and forty nights – (which is both biblical and mathematical proof ), he is surely the puppet-master that the righteous Punter does battle against.

The name of the beast is The Antipontychrist and his number is 6-0-0 (and he doesn't look very well)

5. The Blood of the PontyChrist. In Christian religions, those arcane churches that we had before the birth of Pontianity, especially in Roman-Catholicism, (where the head of the church will, when Ponting is acknowledged as the second coming, be known as The Puntiff) the blood of Christ is important. Jesus, we are told, bled for our sins, and so, in the present day, has the Pontychrist. Here he is bleeding, so that our spirits may be lifted heavenward. And who amongst us can say that this image of his selflessness doesn’t fill their heart with joy?

We have redemption through his blood…in accordance with the riches of God's grace.

Yes, this one's just gratuitous.

6. Iconography. And, much like Christ, when so many of his teachings will be open to the whimsical and wilful interpretations of man, many years after he has passed, so the Pontychrist’s visage will be used, in the millennia to come by men warning others to follow his example and to live without sin. He’s omnipresent, they’ll say, he can see everything that you’re doing, they’ll say. And they’re right. In this portent of the future he seems to be staring into your very soul. And, now that you have seen this picture, you will know, that Ricky can see your every thought and deed. He will know if you think ill of the French. He will know when you’re masturbating. He will know when you’ve eaten Twiglets that you shouldn’t have touched. He knows everything: For he is omnipontent.

He can see into your soul, you bad, bad person.

7. Reflection. And later, on reflection at my conversion to Pontianity, I had a moment of doubt, the sort that afflicted people 2000 years ago in Jesus’s time. I wrote this piece yesterday, but when I woke this morning, I found myself questioning things. In short, I had a crisis of faith. I might have taken too much of my flu medication yesterday, I thought. What if I’d dreamt it? I’d look a fool. I’d be mocked and cast asunder by my peers. I decided that, on reflection, I may have got carried away and resolved to discard what I had written and start afresh with a new piece, after I’d had my breakfast. And then I saw a sign:

It's a sign! (a tasty one, too).

So, in summary, I’m buying myself a ute and I’m going to fill it with corrugated iron and tambourines and head off to the hills to build the first (of many) Puntecostal churches. Who’s with me?

*Henceforth to be known as Parc.

December 15, 2010
7 Reasons You Should Apologise For Not Walking

With the whole 7 Reasons team suffering from Ashes fever, it should come as no surprise that we can find inspiration in one of our favourite sporting events. We have to really. Nothing else is happening in our lives at the moment*. Today’s inspiration comes courtesy of Australian batsman, Michael Clarke, who earlier today smacked the cover off the ball, was caught by England’s Bradman* *and then hovered around the pitch for a while before not walking. Later, via twitter, he graciously apologised for not walking. Which got us thinking. Or one of us anyone. Why else should we apologise for not walking? Here are the results:

1. The Olympic Racewalk. Whether you decide to run in this event or get a bus, you are going to get disqualified. And that means letting your country down. And possibly wasting £2 if you choose the bus option. It’s disappointing behaviour and can only be rectified with a humbling apology. Unless you don’t get caught. In which case, nice one!

2. Stopping. If there is one thing worse than people who walk slowly, it is people who walk slowly and then stop right in front of you without any pre-warning. Idiots. We then have to take evasive action which involves stepping into the road in front of a cement mixer or going into Poundland. For that sense of paralysis we feel when we see horror unfold in front of us, we want an apology. And three rolls of masking tape. Espcially as they’re only a pound. Bargain.

3. Library. A place for quiet contemplation. You can’t be a quiet contemplater if you’re running around the library or driving your small motorbike. And it’s also pretty annoying for everyone else who has come in to get out of the rain. When the librarian says, ‘Ssssh!!!’, you shout, ‘SORRY!’.

4. Cyclists. This is a pavement. It was designed for walking/parking on. It was not designed for cycling on. There are cycle lanes for that. Or gyms. Get off your bike and apologise. Then get on your bike and ignore some traffic lights.

5. The Ozone Layer. If you are within walking distance of your destination, you should be walking. Getting in the car melts icebergs. And polar bears can’t swim for that long. So if you do insist on not walking, I recommend apologising before you set off and saying a small prayer on arrival. It won’t save the polar bear, but it will make you feel better.

6. Supermarket. Trolley rage is caused by one of two things. A wonky wheel or some muppet jogging around Tesco in a mankini searching for the cucumbers. A supermarket is not a place for mankinis and it is certainly not a place for jogging in them. No one wants to see that while deciding what to have for dinner. Apologise. Immediately. And then cover yourself up with a parsnip.

7. Captives. Historically, if a pirate had captured you – and I don’t mean you personally, you’d probably remember that – it was very bad form to refuse to walk the plank. Not only did pirates have to find another way to get rid of you, but the sharks that had been following for three hours went hungry. The least one should have done is apologise. And then used the plank to make a small desk.

*This only applies to Marc.***

**We’re disappointed if you had to read this. To give you a clue though, we’re referring to Alastair Cook.

***No it doesn’t. It applies to Jon.****

****Stop trying to get me in trouble.*****

*****I don’t need to try.

December 6, 2010
7 Reasons That A Drawn First Test Was The Best Result For The Ashes

1. England. For England, a draw in the Brisbane test is certainly a good start to proceedings. We’ve already made certain that there will be no repeat of the 5-0 whitewash in 2006/7 (that I can’t remember) and we’ll be all the more confident as a result of that and, with the monkey off our back, we’ll be able to play more freely; without protests from animal rights activists angered by our wearing of the back-monkey.

2. Australia. For Australia, despite being the home team, and despite the stunning manner in which they won their last home series, a draw isn’t a bad start either. Now that many of their cricketing greats have retired, to devote more time to highlighting their hair and creosoting themselves – leaving Australia with players in their team that even Australians have to google – it was always going to be a tough series. A loss would, quite simply, have been devastating for them. At least with a draw the Australian public will retain some hope and confidence and will continue backing their team; whoever they are.

3. Andrew Strauss. A draw’s a good result for Straussy personally. It means we’re still in the hunt for The Ashes and, while this test can be seen as a positive in terms of his captaincy, will give him much needed time to work on his abysmal batting form. Strauss was England’s lowest scorer in both innings at Brisbane scoring 0 and 110 runs respectively, which is 192 runs fewer than his opening partner. A poor show indeed.

4. Ricky Ponting. A draw, for Ricky Ponting, is no bad result. He’s already received a lot of criticism from his countrymen and a draw is unlikely to add to that. Despite him being the most dislikeable man in the history of Australia, I almost felt sorry for him earlier today (? Yesterday? I just don’t know any more) while he was being booed by both of his own crowd. And I would have done. If I were mental. Or he wasn’t Ricky Ponting.

5. @theashes. Yes, the Twitter user with the best name on Twitter will also benefit from the draw. The feckless American who decided to give herself the name @theashes without checking Google or Wikipedia first and now has over 5000 new followers and more Twitter mentions than…er…the actual test match got (remember the cricket anyone?) now has a few days (I still haven’t worked out how many, I have no idea what day it is and am also surprised to note that it’s now light outside) to choose which team she wants to support as the two teams are still level. Then, when a Twitter-mob quickly forms to campaign to send @theashes to The Ashes, she can choose sides without accusations of glory-seeking, before payment is required for a plane ticket and the Twitter-mob dissipates even more quickly than it was formed.

6. Spectacle. The draw leaves the rest of the contest evenly balanced and, as history has shown us, the best, the absolute best Ashes series are the closest fought ones. Was the 2006/7 Ashes series actually exciting? I asked someone who actually remembered the series and he said “No.”… “Mate”. But the 2005 series and the 2009 series were both epic, close-fought affairs in which both teams gave their all and that everyone remembers fondly. In fact, most right-thinking cricket-fans don’t mind their team losing in a close and exciting contest at all.*

7. International Relations. Because of the draw we can continue to talk to Australians and they can continue to talk to us with pride and dignity intact all round. We can pretend that Finn and Swann didn’t get knocked around the park a worrying amount in Australia’s second innings and that South Africa is just west of the Isle of Wight, and Australians can pretend that there were people in the stands on Monday and that they were just very small. And quiet.

*Did I mention I haven’t slept since…Tuesday?

November 29, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: Help Us Help You

If you are a proper England cricket supporter, you will have no doubt found yourself assisting your country in their times of need. If they need a wicket, there is nothing quite like disappearing from the room for five minutes to make a cup of tea or visit the bathroom or just sit on the stairs. Whenever England take a wicket, it is very rare that the bowler should be congratulated. One of us should. The one who had the gumption to leave the room and go a make a sock drawer. And we have a similar approach to batting. In England’s hour of need, when they really could do without losing another wicket before lunch, it is down to us to make sure they don’t. This is generally accomplished by remaining motionless on the sofa. Or standing on one leg. Or thumping your thigh to the rhythm of Cilla Black’s Anyone Who Had A Heart. If the stumps are demolished, you can be sure it’s because some twat, somewhere made him/herself more comfortable between overs.

Here at 7 Reasons, despite what you may think, we are not infallible. Sometimes, this really is a tough job. Much tougher than working out upon which strip Mitchell Johnson is next going to pitch the ball. This week was a turgid one. In fact, it was as tough a week as we have ever experience. For the majority of it we were completely devoid of inspiration. Hence the fact that on Tuesday Marc wrote about writers block, on Wednesday we had a guest post and on Friday we both advised you not to ride a crocodile. It was only when I was attempting to get England that vital breakthrough on Friday morning by walking around the coffee table backwards, that I realised 7 Reasons could do with some assistance from our supporters. So this post is aimed at all four of you. But don’t think we’re being selfish. This is not a question of you giving up your time just to make 7 Reasons better, you actually get a choice. With that in mind, we have devised six positions we would like you to adopt depending on what you want out of 7 Reasons. All we ask is that you perform one of these positions at around about 8.45am each day. That’s generally the time Marc and I realise there is no way we are going to meet the 9am deadline. We are sure, with your help, we’ll never be devoid of inspiration again. Thank you.

November 28, 2010
Special Guest Post: 7 Reasons I’m Backing Us To Win The Ashes

Hello! It’s Wednesday, and regular 7 Reasons (.org) readers might be surprised to find a guest post here. But today is special. Because today is the day that The Ashes begins, and I can’t begin to tell you how excited the 7 Reasons team are by this. Well, I could begin, but I’d never be able to stop myself and we’d all miss the cricket while I babbled on and on. So, joining us on the 7 Reasons sofa today is Sir Straussy who has taken time out from his busy cricketing and tweeting schedule to explain why he’s backing us to win The Ashes. And by us, I sincerely hope he isn’t referring to the 7 Reasons team; that would be a disaster.

Disclaimer: The views expressed by the England Captain are entirely his own and do not represent those of 7 Reasons (.org)*

1. It’s In The Toss. This is nothing new, but Ricky Ponting and I are tossers. We have to be. It’s in the contract. To be a captain you must be a tosser. And I am very proud to be both. So is Ricky. The difference between us is that, while I’m a good tosser, he’s a useless tosser. The stats don’t lie. Using the motto ‘tails never fails’ I have won 59% of tosses as England captain, Ricky has won a mere 49% in his role as an Australian tosser. And with the toss being so crucial these days, that 10% will give us the edge. But, I hear you ask, what happens if tails fails? Is that it? Shall we give up? Forget about this Test? No, certainly not. Again, let’s examine the stats, in the 41% of matches in which tails never fails has gone tits down, I have led England to victories 64% of the time. And as for Punter? Well, under his tossership, Australia have won just 30% of the Tests in which he has lost the toss. So, just remember, if my tossing goes wonky, don’t worry, I still produce results.

2. Younger, Fitter, Stronger. Assuming we go into the first Test with the team I want and Australia go into the first Test with the team I want, the average age of the England team is going to be twenty years lower than that of our counterparts. And even if Australia don’t go with Dame Edna Everage and Bill Lawry, our boys will still be younger on average. If the probable teams that have been bandied about in the papers for the last few days are to be believed, we’ll step onto the field with the average age of 28 years and six months. Australia will wheel themselves onto the field averaging 31 years. That age difference means we’re much fitter. Just take a look at our bodies. No one can tell me Dougy Bollinger is fitter than pin-up sensation Stuart Broad. Or Simon Katich is fitter than Brighton favourite Jimmy Anderson. Or podge-face Punter is fitter than the hairy-armed version of myself.

3. The Hair Apparent. According to the internet, the American writer, actor and comedian Larry David once said, ‘Anyone can be confident with a full head of hair, but a confident bald man – there’s your diamond in the rough’. He was talking about Matt Prior. The one player in world cricket whose surname inexplicably can’t be used with an O or Y to form a nickname.

4. Names. And talking of nicknames, should you wish to use ours on the Scrabble board we will score you an average of 9.5 points per player. That’s a staggering 0.9 points more than the Aussies. When you also throw into the equation that this includes the nickname-less Prior, it almost defies belief. How is this going to help us win the Ashes though? Well, it’s not directly, it was more an observation I made playing online scrabble with Lady Straussy. But it did get me thinking. Us English and South African-English just whack a Y on the end of a surname and be done with it. We then get on with the cricket. The Aussies though, well judging by some of the nicknames for their players, I imagine they spend a great deal of time in the middle trying to think of something wondrous. That must be why Haddin is called BJ, Bollinger is called Eagle, North is called Snorks and the 27 year-old new boy, Xavier Doherty, is called X. You need to concentrate on the game in this game, not faff around thinking of schoolboy nicknames. In some ways this is why I hope Usman Khawaja plays. Though I suspect he’s called Koala.

5. The KP Factor. With his Movember challenge nearly at an end – a contest Monty has dominated from an early stage – and his blindfold cricket ‘viral’ video for Brylcreem out of the way, KP now has the chance to concentrate on what he loves. And, talking about love, the other day the lads saw that the fat lad Warney had said KP needed loving again. So that’s exactly what we have given him. Lots of it. Aussie, watch out.

6. Midge. That’s the nickname of Mitchell Johnson, presumably because like a midge he has no sense of co-ordination. Anyway, he has vowed to make me crumble. Which is lovely. I’m looking forward to it at tea. But Midge has also vowed to make me suffer under a bouncer barrage. This goes back to the 2006/7 Ashes where I fully admit I got out hooking twice. Midge wants to exploit this perceived weakness. Given that I was caught behind four times in the same series, one could be forgiven to think I am far more susceptible to the one that pitches in the corridor of uncertainty and moves a fraction away off the seam. Mind you, Midge’s corridor of uncertainty is only slightly smaller than Steve Harmison’s, so perhaps that’s what he means anyway.

7. We Are England! To paraphrase Hugh Grant, ‘We may be an England cricket team, but we are a South African one too. A country of Allan Lamb, Basil D’Oliveira, Tony Greig, Robin Smith, Robin Smith’s brother. Nasser Hussain’s index finger. Nasser Hussain’s middle finger come to that. And a friend who bullies us is a Commonwealth country that wants to become a Republic. And since bullies only respond to strength, from now onward, I will be prepared to whip out my guns more often. And the whole of Australia should be prepared for that.’ Actually, it sounds much better like this.

*Unless he makes fun of Ricky Ponting or the French.

November 24, 2010
7 Reasons The UK Owes Ireland

If you are British, you may be asking why our Government is helping to bail out Ireland. Well wonder no longer. It is quite simple. Ireland has given so much to the UK. So much. We owe them.

1. Music. ‘Some people say I look like me dad. What?! Are you serious?’ As I am sure you are all aware, they are the very first lines of the B*Witched classic, C’est le vie. And it’s only by listening to those words that you can really appreciate just how good The Spice Girls actually were. And that has to be a worth rewarding, doesn’t it?

2. Alcohol. From Guinness to Baileys to Bulmers/Magners and back to Guinness again. The Irish know how to drink. Sadly, many Briton’s don’t, which is why…

3. Hurling – a pursuit played out on the fields of Ireland – has become particularly popular on the streets of the UK. Just after closing time. And that in turn is why the British paracetamol industry remains so strong. Thanks Ireland.

4. James Bond. It is not often said that Pierce Brosnan did for Britain’s finest secret agent what Nasser Hussain did for the England Cricket team, but it’s true. Both picked up a beleaguered enterprise and through sheer bloody mindedness and the help of their respective peers in the form of Dame Judi Dench and Duncan Fletcher, turned it into something quite beautiful. Or at least passable. Better than it was anyway. And for that we should be eternally thankful. No one wants to watch Licence To Kill followed by the 1989 Ashes highlights.**

5. Sir Terry Wogan. Not only did he provide a superior earful for the more sophisticated radio listener than say Christopher Moyles, he also made the debacle that is The Eurovision Song Contest relatively enjoyable. Mainly because he talked over both presenters and songs alike. While slowly getting sloshed on whiskey. And getting away with it. He also introduced me to Gina G. And when you are twelve you like that kind of thing.

6. Leprechauns. Oddly, and rather ridiculously in my opinion, the people of the UK seem to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day more than St. George’s Day, St. Andrew’s Day and St. David’s Day combined. But at least on 17th March Trafalgar Square is full of honorary Leprechauns instead of bloody pigeons.

7. Home Comforts. Wherever I have been in the world, I always find an Irish pub. Not on purpose, it’s just there. Being all Irish at me. And it’s a nice feeling. Not because it adds to the ambiance of the street, but because I know I’ve found somewhere to watch the rugby. And for that I have always been eternally thankful.

*e

**If ever you wanted an example of a reason where I start writing without an idea of where it is heading, this is it.

November 22, 2010
7 Reasons the Anglo-Franco Defence Agreement is a Good Idea

Yesterday, at 7 Reasons (.org) we ran a post entitled 7 Reasons The Anglo-Franco Defence Agreement Is A Bad Idea. I discovered that we had done so while I was eating my breakfast, and it’s fair to say that I was quite stunned. In fact I, the Jacques Tati obsessed, Voltaire-reading, coffee-guzzling half of the 7 Reasons team (the one with the French name), almost choked on my croissant. “A bad idea?!” I exclaimed in a voice so high that it was only audible to very small dogs, “but it’s a brilliant idea!” And it is. Here are seven reasons why:

1. History. The most notable occasion on which we’ve had a defence agreement and a joint expeditionary force with France was the Second World War. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, we won that. Obviously it didn’t work out too well for France, what with Germany annihilating the French army and occupying most of their country, and Britain blowing up the French navy before going home to dine on powdered egg with the Americans. But we did win, so defence agreements with France are a proven success. And now that we have the Channel Tunnel, their government will be able to flee to London so much more quickly than last time. If that’s possible.

2. Cuisine. Working together will rid both nations of antiquated ideas about the other nation’s diet. They will come to realise that there’s more to British cuisine than roast beef – because we’ve had branches of McDonalds since at least the 1970s – and we will come to realise that there’s more to French cuisine than frogs legs. They’ll introduce us to soufflé: An insignificant, over-inflated tart that shrinks at the merest hint of a knife, and Quiche Lorraine: A dish that they readily share with Germans – usually as a starter – which is often followed by a generous helping of their speciality, crêpe à la guerre.

3. Wisdom. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer: A line from The Godfather – often wrongly attributed to Sun Tzu – that’s a very wise strategy indeed. And who is the enemy in this case? Well, it’s France: The nation we’ve spent more time at war with than any other. They are l’ennemi traditionnel, and by being on board the same ships with them we’ll be able to keep a very close eye on them. Also, should a war break out between the nations, civilian casualties will be minimised as the theatre of war will be far smaller than usual; sometimes it will even be confined to the same engine room or bridge. And remember, should the enemy sink one of our aircraft carriers, they will bear half the cost.

4. Finance. Even if you’re not au fait with the minutiae of military funding it’s bleeding obvious that we’re going to save lots of money by sharing spending with France. Look at paint. All armed forces need lots of paint and, by getting together we’ll have greater purchasing power when it comes to procuring it. We’ll make substantial savings on grey paint for navy use, and camouflage paint for army use. And we’ll make even bigger savings on red, white and blue paint as we’ll need bloody loads of that now that we’ll need to paint a French flag on one side of things and a British flag on the other. The savings will be enormous. Énorme.

5. Efficacy. The measure by which all branches of the armed services are judged is their strike-capability. And by entering into an agreement with the French, we’ll increase the strike-capability of our military substantially. In fact, with the French on board, our strike capability will be the highest of any force in the world; our strike-capability will be infinity, which is greater even than the combined forces of China, North Korea, Iran, Christmas Island, Easter Island, Chuck Norris and Malta.

6. Co-operation. When Britain and France work together, the two nations have been able to affect profound and lasting positive sociological change. The channel tunnel, for example, which was first proposed in 1802 and was completed a mere 192 years later, allowed refugees of many nationalities to complete the final leg of their epic journeys of migration; fleeing hardship and squalor from across the four corners of Northern France, to civilisation in Southern England; where they were able to escape the tyranny of boules, cycling and listening to Johnny Hallyday and were introduced to the more civilised British pastimes of cricket, morris dancing, and the Daily-Mail-witch-hunt.

7. Culture. Our nations have much to learn from each other and the accord will doubtless be a civilising influence. As we get to know each other as individuals there will be a significant breakdown of prejudice and an increase in cultural exchange. We will teach the French to drink copious quantities of beer and fight with bald men in shirts at the weekend, and they will teach the British to drink copious quantities of wine and run from bald men in shirts at le weekend. We will teach the French to make popular music that will be cherished the world over, and they will teach the British how to sneer at the X-Factor. We will teach them that France is the ideal holiday destination, and they will teach us that France is the ideal holiday destination. It’s a match made in heaven. The Anglo-French defence agreement is going to be great.

November 3, 2010
7 Reasons The Anglo-Franco Defence Agreement Is A Bad Idea

Cameron: "Don't worry, your troops will be fine. From a distance it looks like a gun."

Once again the power of 7 Reasons is dictating how the world operates. Today, you will hear that Britain and France have agreed to join forces in the pursuit of defending our shores. A reliable source informs us that our piece entitled 7 Reasons To Invade France caused shock-waves in both British and French camps. David Cameron doesn’t want a diplomatic incident on his hands and the French are just scared. As a result they have agreed to stand together and deny the 7 Reasons dream. But what to them sounds like a good idea given the current economic climate, to us sounds like a catastrophe waiting to happen. Here’s why:

1. Conflicts. For this agreement to work, both Britain and France need to be reading off the same hymn sheet. Or invasion plan. But what happens if one country doesn’t like the others proposed deployment? Well, basically, they can veto it. Rather disastrously this is going to make it extremely difficult for Britain to invade France. And who wants to live without that prospect on the horizon? Well, the French probably, but who else? Life just got a little more boring.

2. Kitchen Wars. This agreement will mean both British and French troops will be stationed on aircraft carriers together. An Englishman and a Frenchman on an aircraft carrier at the same time? All we need is an Irishman and we have the makings of a joke. But, sadly, this isn’t a joke. This is a very serious matter. Who will win? A traditional English Breakfast with cup of tea or a Continental Breakfast with coffee. Even the thought makes me quite queer. And what happens if Pierre – I imagine all French chefs to be called Pierre. Or Jean-Paul. But this one’s a Pierre – what happens if Pierre is left in the kitchen alone for five minutes. He’s going to spike everything with garlic.*

3. Left or Driot? Anyone who has been to France will know that they drive on the wrong side of the road. How they sleep at night is a mystery. But that is something we will cover in a future 7 Reasons piece. Because today we need to point out the dangers this will cause. On aircraft carriers. With the British wishing to land their aircraft on the correct side of the carrier and the French wishing to land theirs on the wrong, there is going to be more than an argument. There is going to be a pile-up.*

4. Cricket. With the invasion of France looking less likely, there is going to be much more free time. Time when the troops of the two nations can bond. And what better way to bond than over a fierce game of cricket? Well, actually, every other way is better. Because the English are going to be playing proper cricket and the French are going to be playing nancy boys cricket. Or French cricket as they call it. It’s going to be like bodyline. Just with more blood and clueless Frenchmen. And this, despite what I may feel in my heart, is not a good thing.

5. Infestation. Have you ever considered the possibility that we don’t have enough frogs and snails in Britain? No? Well give it about six months and you’ll be wondering how the hell we’ve got so many frogs and snails in this country? Unless, you’ve read this. In which case you’ll know. As soon as that French aircraft carrier docks in Southampton, we’re going to get infested with the pests. And the frogs. And the snails.

6. Strikes. Who knows who we are going to have to defend ourselves against in the future, but for arguments sake, let’s suggest it’s Christmas Island. What happens if Davide and Nicolas send one of our aircraft carriers over there only for the French to go on strike? And let’s face it, this is a very real danger. The British boys will be stretched beyond belief. And, as good as they are, I am not sure they will be able to survive under the constant barrage of Christmas Tree missiles. The sheer number of pine needles will sink us.*

7. Time-Zones. This is something I doubt either Davo or Nico have considered. Return to that picture in your mind of the Anglo-Franco aircraft carrier coming under the fire of Christmas Trees if you will. The good news is that the French have ended their strike and are now sweeping pine needles off the deck. Then the order comes through that the joint force is to invade the Island at 0700. So they wait. And then at 0700 the French troops invade. And the British wonder what the hell they are doing? Because it’s only 0600.*

*These reasons are the property of Claire Quinn and have kindly been loaned out to 7 Reasons for the day. We are truly grateful. As otherwise 50% of the 7 Reasons team would have been here all day.

November 2, 2010
7 Reasons That a Cricket Bat is Preferable to a Baseball bat

Hmm. What’s the best bat to keep around the house, you’re probably wondering. Well, I have both, and it’s definitely the cricket bat. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Perception. When you stroll down your nice, quiet unremarkable street with a cricket bat tucked under your arm, you fit in. To passers-by and onlookers you are that nice chap (or chapess) from number 29 on his way to participate in a genteel and respectable game which involves a break for tea, and a lunch which perhaps involves a home-made cake or two on a picturesque village green somewhere.

2. Perception. When you stroll down your nice, quiet unremarkable street twirling a baseball bat you do not fit in. In fact, you are a harbinger of evil, bristling with menace and exuding undiluted violence. Suddenly, in a scene reminiscent of a cheap western, everything will become silent. Young women shield young children behind their voluminous skirts; old women scuttle away in terror; middle-aged women…er…er…(I’ve never even seen a middle-aged women in a cheap western, why is that?); men (of all ages) suddenly become incapable of eye contact, because there’s a madman with a baseball bat on the rampage. Never mind that in your other hand you’re carrying a mitt and a baseball because the people have seen the bat and the panic-stricken-nitwits have been rendered incapable of rational thought. They will blindly assume that you’re off to break someone’s kneecaps or smash a car’s door-mirrors. And that won’t help you get an invite to your next-door neighbour’s birthday party. It may, however, stop trick-or-treaters visiting.*

3. Certainty. Cricket bats, like some of the more successful and big-headed practitioners of the game itself, are doughty, resolute and they stay where you left them. If you put a baseball bat on the dining-room floor, however, it does not. The baseball bat is an inherently flighty creature and, like a hollow-headed flibbertigibbet, it will just disappear from where you left it, merrily rolling away without a care in the world. Eventually, of course, it will turn up, usually while you’re stumbling around in the dark or when your wife is entering the room carrying a glass of orange juice, a plate containing two cheese and real-ale-pickle sandwiches and an apple. Or something.

4. Arms-length. Ever had to pick something up that you really didn’t want to pick up? Something that you wanted to keep at further-than-arms-length? Something with many legs, perhaps, or with steam emanating from it. A cricket bat is ideal for such an eventuality owing to its flat blade. A baseball bat is not. In fact, there’s no way that you’ll be able to carry your friend’s pet “hamster” that you’re looking after or that god-awful smelling bowl of onion soup on a baseball bat.

5. Flour. I have never returned home to find my cricket bat covered in flour. I have, however, returned home to discover my baseball bat covered in flour on several occasions. And, as I’ve tucked into the pie that my wife has prepared for me, I’ve often thought, funny that. I didn’t leave it anywhere near the flour cupboard.**

6. Air-guitar. Try miming along to the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion or Led Zeppelin using a baseball bat and you’ll look like a pillock. Do it using a cricket bat and you’ll look like an eminently sensible and respectable chap (or chapess), suitable for a post in the foreign office, perhaps, or as a school governor. No matter how bad the music or the miming, if you use a cricket bat you’ll always maintain a thin veneer of respectability. Until you fall off the table.

7. Visitors. When you entertain foreign guests from non-cricketing nations in your house, a baseball bat is just a bat for baseball. A cricket bat, however, is a strange thing of wonder which they will enquire about. And fairly soon you’ll find yourself explaining – at length – to your blankly-incomprehending friends the finer points of the game of cricket. And they’ll love you for that. Really. And, after several hours talking about cricket, you may even find that they close their eyes in concentration as you explain the finer points of leg-spin.

*Topical top tip.

**The flour cupboard is not exclusively for flour. It contains other things such as; homemade blackberry vodka, homemade limoncello, half a packet of raisins, three packets of linguine, a jar of treacle that may or may not pre-date the Crimean war and a sake jug.

October 18, 2010