Tag: England

7 Reasons It’s A Disaster England Lost The Bid To Host The 2018 World Cup

1. Qualifying. England have got to do it. And that’s worrying. Ever so often they cock it up. And the qualifying campaign for the 2018 World Cup could be the ever so often.

2. Scotland. Russia have won the bid. That is one hell of a long way to go to just to put in a spirited performance – albeit in defeat – against Brazil and then lose 4-0 to Japan. They could have lost at St. James’ Park and then slipped back over the border unnoticed.

3. England. Russia is a long way to go to lose on penalties to Portugal. We could quite easily have done that at home. Or in Portugal. And the players could have done it without wearing gloves.

4. Children. Given that 66% of children think ‘The War Of The Roses’ has something to do with those sweets that aren’t Quality Street, England hosting the 2018 World Cup would have been the perfect opportunity for the BBC to do those profiles of the host country. Like they did in South Africa. They would have taught the youth of the year after the next seven all about England’s rich heritage. Instead they are going to learn about Russian dolls. And I don’t mean Anna Kournikova.

5. Economy. Let me be the first to tell you that Russia is three hours ahead of the UK. That means games during our afternoons. You can bet your last fiver that England will be playing Cameroon on a Wednesday afternoon at about 2pm BST. And it’s a game they are going to have to win having previously lost 2-1 to Romania and drawn 0-0 with a country no one has even heard of. Despite the fact that we will be rubbish, people will still be skipping work to watch the game. It’ll be enough to plunge us into a recession. Probably the same one we are in now.

6. Press. If England do make it through to the World Cup, for one whole day Sky News will be covering the ‘England Leave For Russia’ story. We’ll have to endure watching the England players walk up some steps and onto a plane. Probably followed by Gazza with a fishing rod and a bucket of chicken. Then six hours later we’ll have to watch them walked off the plane in Moscow. Followed by a drunk Gazza with a fishing rod and no chicken.

7. It’s Coming Home! If England had won the bid, we could have listened to this song while it made sense. Now, we’ll have to listen to it trying to work out how Russia is the home of football. And Baddiel and Skinner will be 54 and 61 respectively. They’ll have probably gone all Chas’n’Dave on us.

December 2, 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 My Dream Was A Bit Odd

In a last minute change to 7 Reasons proceedings, the post originally planned for today has been postponed in favour of something that happened overnight. A bit like Martin Luther King, I had a dream. Unlike him however, I was the only one to witness it. Which is why I must share mine with you. Now. It was weird.

1. Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! I’m in a house. But it’s also a hotel. And an airport. It’s next to a London train station. It’s supposed to be London Victoria, but it’s not. So I’m in this house – which is also a hotel and an airport – and everything is going well. I am just wandering. Wandering around. Looking at plates and planes and….oh, a playground. I remember now, there was a playground. And then there’s a fire. Like Billy Joel, I didn’t start the fire, but if I don’t get a bloody shift on I’m going to burn to a crisp. (We’ll come to the crisps later). So I start running. And I find myself in a…

2. Room. It’s a bedroom. And it has a window. Two of them in fact. And outside of the window is a roof terrace. And a ladder into the garden. A garden which I can only assume is on the opposite side of the house to the airfield. I open the window and in a move that a contortionist or Anne Widdecombe would be proud of, manage to get myself through the smallest gap in the world. And with it, to safety. We then shift forward to…

3. The Next Day. I can only assume it’s the next day because otherwise I’d be re-entering a house that is on fire. And that would be stupid. And as I had the intelligence to get out the of house fire in the first place, I don’t believe I am stupid in this dream. So, it’s the next day and I am back in the room that I escaped from. There is smoke damage and Dr Howard Denton. You probably won’t recognise this name because he was one of my lecturers when I was at University. What the bloody hell he is doing here, I have no idea. But I don’t seem to care. In fact I am very happy to see him. Because he starts helping me look for my…

4. iPhone Charger. I must have lost it the previous night. Along with my wallet and car keys. Rather brilliantly I find my iPhone charger lying on top of a dressing table. Obviously that’s one of the most important things to do when trying to escape a house fire. Put your iPhone charger on a dressing table so you can come back to get it the next day. You’d do well to remember that. I am so delighted that I’ve found my iPhone charger that I give Dr Howard Denton my crisps. (Told you we’d come back to them). They’re Phileas Fogg range. Irish cheddar with onion chutney flavour. I know I’ve eaten some already because there’s a wooden clothes peg fastening the packet closed. You can say what you like about me, but I know how to keep crisps fresh. This is when…

…I wake up. My girlfriend’s shouting about babies. At least I think she is at the time. In hindsight I am not entirely sure she was. Either way, I show my caring side by asking her if she’s okay. She is, so I fall back to sleep. And I start dreaming again. And I’m back in another house. A house belonging to…

5. Judy Murray. And the only reason I know the house belongs to Judy Murray is because she has just walked through the front door and said, ‘What are you doing in my house?’ For reasons (probably less than seven) unbeknown to me, we go into the garden where I try and explain. Rather splendidly Judy has sofas and chairs in her garden. And I decide to put two chairs together to form a boat. I then explain to Judy that I was merely in her house to work because it was too noisy back at mine. She seems to understand and, for the first time in my life, I begin to like Judy Murray. Which is when everything becomes a blur until I find myself outside Judy Murray’s house. And in through the window of next door, I can see England bowler…

6. Steven Finn. He’s doing the washing up and not looking as tall as I had seen him on TV. To make sure it doesn’t look like I am stalking him, I get down in Judy Murray’s driveway and start doing press-ups. I’m obviously an optimistic dreamer because I do bloody hundreds of them. All while looking at Steven Finn. Until Judy Murray’s front door opens and out walks…

7. Judy Murray. She starts asking me if – while I’ve been living in her house – I have moved the car. Apparently the hedges look a bit bashed up. Now, I don’t remember dreaming about it, but I know that I did drive Judy Murray’s car into the flowerbed. Which is why I lie and deny I have been anywhere near her Volvo. Once again, she seems to understand. Which is when one of my old school friends rocks up and starts telling me how much he loved my film. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I say, ‘Thanks’ anyway. He then mentions he reads 7 Reasons. Which is when I wake up. Hopefully I’ll find out tonight whether he likes it or not.

October 1, 2010
7 Reasons That The Westbourne Bank Protest Was Stupid

In Britain, it’s often said that we’re not very good at protesting, and we’re always compared unfavourably with the French in that regard. But now, public protest in the UK has reached an all-time low because, last weekend, several men in Dorset bricked up the door of their local bank in what they claimed was a, “…protest against the reluctance of banks to lend money to small firms”. Here are seven reasons that their protest was stupid.

1. They Went To The Wrong Bank. The protesters wanted to brick up the door of the Westbourne branch of Natwest Bank because it had refused the group’s ringleader, Cameron Hope, a business loan. But, when they arrived at the Natwest, the police were nearby, so the group decided to brick up the door of a different bank instead. Barclays. Now, if I do something that irritates my wife involving…ooh…I don’t know…umm…a bicycle, for example, and I’m not there when she finds out about it – or I’m standing near the police – I wouldn’t expect her to go and yell at a different man. Because that would be crazy. And irrational. And yes, it would be much better if she did that, but that’s not the point. Bricking up the door of a bank that they didn’t have a legitimate grievance with is just mad. And counter-productive.

2. Prudence. Okay, so the bank turned down Cameron Hope’s loan application. What should he do? Scrimp and save, perhaps. Look at alternate ways of raising capital, or go to a different bank. I’m not a businessman, but I wouldn’t choose to demonstrate my financial acumen and creditworthiness to another bank by frittering my money away on costly building materials and then use them to construct a monument to my own profligacy on their doorstep. Because that’s not going to help. And it’s a lot of effort. He could have achieved the same effect by setting fire to twenty pound notes in front of the bank manager instead. Far less trouble.

3. Put Simply. The more money the bank has, the more they’ll lend, making it more likely that you’ll get a loan. Conversely: The less money the bank has, the less they’ll lend, making it less likely that you’ll get a loan. So if you brick the door of the bank up, customers can’t take their money to the bank, and then the bank can’t lend it to you. I realise that this is a highly simplistic, microeconomic description of banking, but I’m addressing it thus, to the protesters because of…

4. The Quote. The quote tells us that the protesters don’t understand how banking works at all, because one of the group stated to journalists, “You go into a bank and there’s nothing there, the bank’s open but the safe is shut.” This is his summary of his grievance with the banking system; and it doesn’t really bear much scrutiny. Because of course there’s nothing there. What does this man expect to find in a bank? Displays of money? Shelf upon shelf of alluringly-arrayed notes and enticing floor-displays brimming over with a boundless abundance of shimmering coins? And of course the safe is shut. It’s a safe. That’s its job. If the bloody things weren’t meant to be shut they’d be called something different. They’d be called unsafes. Or vulnerables.

5. Helping The Bank. The protesters bricked up the door of the bank on a Sunday: A day when all banks are closed. So this had no effect on the bank’s ability to trade. In fact, one of the major obsessions and expenses of any bank is security, and by bricking up the door – and thereby making it more difficult for robbers to enter the premises – the protesters actually helped the bank. Not to mention that their protest also brought the police along to stand outside in hi-vis jackets, which probably made the bank as safe as it’s ever been. And all at no extra cost to the bank. What are the protesters going to do next, try to bring down the Conservative party by voting for them?

6. Consequences. Though the protest didn’t have any serious consequences, it could well have done. The protesters could have endangered the nation’s economy. By bricking up the door of the bank, they made it likely that employees would have to enter and exit the premises via the windows. And, as history teaches us, bankers jumping out of windows is one of the worst economic indicators that there is. Worse even than Alistair Darling’s eyebrows. It’s the sort of thing that, if the media get hold of the footage, can shatter fragile economic confidence.

7. Achievement. As a protest against banking it doesn’t appear to have accomplished anything. I was in the centre of a city yesterday, and banking appeared to be going on pretty much unhindered by the protest. People in polyester uniforms were sitting around near potted plants in waist-high partitioned areas looking depressed, as usual. The cash machine outside was covered in the remnants of a McDonald’s milkshake, as usual. I wanted to thump over 90% of the people in the queue, as usual; even myself. So the protest has had no discernible effect on banking. Obviously, the protest brought an awful lot of free publicity for the property developer behind it, but that wasn’t the point. Because this was a protest against banking, right? And not some sort of tawdry self-serving publicity stunt?

September 30, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Americans Call Football Soccer

After a brief stopover in England last week, the sofa is back on its tour of the USA. This Saturday we have wound up in…er…we’re not sure (we forgot to bring a compass and our map seems to have been printed upside-down). Literally thousands of people raced from their homes to see what the fuss was about, but it was Breana Orland who won the place on the 7 Reasons chaise longue. And it’s a good job she did because she’s going to explain to us one of life’s mysteries. Just why do Americans call football, soccer.

Breana Orland is a writer for Student Grants. She also gives advice on the pursuit of higher education and career options for young adults.

Leave it to the bloody yanks to bastardize the world’s sport by giving it a different name and, refusing so thoroughly to recognize its real name, that we assign it to a completely dissimilar sport. As per our usual custom, Americans have to do everything on their own terms. First we separated from England. Then we said no to the metric system (forget the liter, I need a gallon of milk!) and driving on the wrong side of the road (if we drive on the right side, then yours must be wrong). And finally, we took the most beloved sport in the world, football, and applied the name to a sport that should by all rights be called handball. And we named football, soccer. But if you ever wondered what caused Americans to raise the ire of football fans everywhere by giving it a new name, here are a few things you may want to consider.

1. We Already Have A Sport With That Name. Football may be THE international sport (played with feet), but here in America, football is a game that is played on Sunday by enormous men in spandex and padding that line up facing each other like they’re reenacting a pre-revolutionary battlefield. It is a sport played mainly with hands on the ball, but for some reason, we call it football.

2. Because Of The Soc? No, not the funny socks they wear. Apparently, soccer was a slang term derived from “soc” in the original name “associated football”, and since we gave the name football to the gridiron sport, the international sport of the same name got the short end of the soc.

3. We’re contrary! Deal with it! There’s a reason everyone thinks Americans are, um, jerks. We kind of are. You wanna go?!

4. New language Is Our Bag, Baby. Sure we inherited our national tongue from the British, but you don’t hear us running around shouting “Bollocks!” or “Pip, pip, cheerio!” In keeping our image as the kid who ran away from Mommy and Daddy, we have adopted our own accents and colloquialisms and set to making up words. If you don’t believe me, just consider the fact that “truthiness”, a fake word made popular by The Colbert Report’s Stephen Colbert, was actually added to the dictionary.

5. Soccer Is America’s Sport. That’s right; we jacked the world’s sport and gave it our own name. Then we stole England’s soccer legend (but Becks, wouldn’t you really rather live in Los Angeles?). Then we embarrassed them at the World Cup (okay, they embarrassed themselves). And still, it is the least recognized sport in our country. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

6. We did it our way. At least, according to Frank Sinatra. And the Chairman of the Board is never wrong. Americans always have to do things their own way, even if it means that we’re going against the entire world and firmly established facts or traditions.

7. We’re idiots. At least, according to the rest of the world. Apparently we just don’t get it and we never will. Maybe if you called it soccer…

July 31, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons That It’s Pimm’s O’Clock

It’s another Saturday here in Blighty and that means another chance for Marc and I to leave the comfort of the sofa and go and air our hairy legs. All four of them. In our place today then, is John Phipps. A man who, when not painting Gordon Brown’s face, can be found doing other things. Though we’re not quite sure what. For those of you in the twitterati, you can follow John here. But do that after he’s talked to you about Pimm’s. It’s only courteous.

So far in England we’ve had a summer of sporting mediocrity – topped off with headaches from the whine of Vuvuzelas and Sue Barkers’ bitter tone. Amazingly the sun is still looking favourably upon our otherwise gloomy Nation as music festivals and sporting events help draw our attention away from our melancholy lives.

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to a proper English summer. With everything in place, it seems appropriate that the mind should turn to Pimm’s – the quintessentially English Summer drink. In its traditional style, 7 Reasons is here to help celebrate “Pimm’s O’clock” with seven somewhat ironic, self-mocking pointers.

1. Quality refreshment. A sensible man would say refreshment comes in the form of water. Brian Badonde would even join me in saying “Bah!” to those opting for some Council juice on a warm day. What sets Pimm’s aside from the rest is its ability to truly refresh. The fabulously fruity rich mix, shifts the clouds with sweet honey-like sunshine resin. Your palate will explode long before your bladder as you taste the heady delights of the English summer.

As an added bonus for those of you clogging up the NHS, the fruit not only gives added enjoyment but counts for a significant part of your important 5 a-day too.* Your Consultant will be (slightly) pleased.

2. Prudence. Guardian columnist Oliver Thring (who by the way sports a truly magnificent side parting) wrote that Pimm’s “epitomises seasonal events featuring irritating rich people: trilbied fops in preposterous blazers; hawing women in silly hats; drunken trustafarians lounging on riverbanks; fans of Nigel Farage doorstepping ahead of European elections.”

Now, I’m not a fan of Nigel Farage, more of a Bercow man myself, but young Oliver is spot on; this bizarre scene is a fundamental part of the attraction. Some drink Stella and go home and beat their wife. Others sip Pimm’s and go home after beating themselves because they threw a game of croquet. It’s a drink for those with common sense.

3. Social Mobility. Fortunately the price seems to dissuade anti-socialites and general miscreants from dropping their favoured bottle of White Lightning for a Pimm’s. I defy anybody to find evidence of Pimm’s being drunk neat, or otherwise, on park benches by the Adidas tracksuit brigade. It is widely believed too that Staffordshire Bull Terriers will not drink this refined goodness. That being said, there is every opportunity with Pimm’s to elevate your standing – therefore perfect for the character who some years ago failed the 12+ or an entrance exam at Stowe and ended up carrying a briefcase into a modern Comprehensive on his first day in Year 8.

You see a nice ‘whistle’ or a posh frock only go some of the distance in pushing you up the ladder. However, put a jug of Pimm’s on the table and a glass in hand and you my friend could be someone with symbolic capital. The power of absolute mobility that this drink possesses is indeed, absolute.

4. Grandeur. Only a sexually insecure beefcake or a leftie with a face like a melted wellington would refuse a Pimm’s – regardless of cost. Pimm’s is Land Of Hope And Glory and Jerusalem in a glass. It screams Pomp and Circumstance with its typeface let alone its taste. It arouses illusions of grandeur, times gone by; an idealised Nation; a Country under Thatcher; a home-grown Wimbledon winner; Mr Darcy; cricket at Wormsley, the majesty of Temperate House; an impassioned Glyndebourne.

Prince William and his Army chums once cleared the supermarket shelves in Weymouth just after I bought my first bottle of the summer. I hope the lucky bar-stewards didn’t choke on a strawberry, but love him or hate him, be assured that this is a drink of Kings.

5. Women. Proper ladies don’t drink Pints of lager; it’s not the done thing, so be on guard for freeloaders. Make sure your flys aren’t undone etc. First impressions count and Pimm’s has already done the hard work for you. Don’t let yourself down.

6. Create Perfection. The official recipe is one part Pimm’s to three parts lemonade, strawberry, orange and mint, mixed generously with ice. Generally speaking one should stick to it. I would suggest perhaps using Tonic Water instead of lemonade, adding cucumber and maybe a stick or two of celery.

If your greengrocer has run out of celery, a Chelsea fan is bound to have some.

7. Imitation is suicide. The world is full of pretenders, I urge you not to join them by succumbing to a cheaper and quite frankly, poorer alternative. You will think you are cool, but instead you are unquestionably sad. You need to ‘wake up and smell the cock’ before your half-empty glass ruins your life.

You will not reach more of a lower point in life than if a guest samples your fake product and comments accordingly. At this point you will probably continue drinking the alternative just to forget what happened. This is not clever and you really should have read points 1-6 more carefully.

*Not scientifically proven, just an educated guess.

**DRINK RESPONSIBLY. Pimm’s is not good to binge on and can make quite a mess for your partner to clear up the next day. It will also quite probably smell most foul.

July 24, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: World Cup Separated at Birth

It’s Sunday again and, now that the World Cup has reached the semi-final stage, there’s no football today. So, what better way to spend our time than thinking about football? Not making predictions, obviously, our track record there is worse than…well…anything. We predicted that England would beat Germany handsomely and yesterday, half of the 7 Reasons team confidently stated that the German defence would be no match for this man.

So, today we won’t be speculating on anything that might happen in the semis or the final. We’re shying away from conjecture and sticking to observation. Here are some World Cup doppelgangers that we’ve spotted during the tournament so far.

Do you look like anyone that’s played a part in World Cup 2010? If so, get in touch and send us pictures, we might add you to this page. Unless, of course, you look like Carlos Tevez. We don’t want nightmares.

July 4, 2010
7 Reasons England’s Footballers Should Have An Open-Top Bus Parade

England missed the boat yesterday. Thankfully, they are still in time for the bus.

1. Public Transport. After their performance at this World Cup the players may as well get used to travelling on the bus. Except Stephen Warnock. He didn’t do much wrong. In fact, did anyone see him? Even once? Oh, and if you are worried about David James fare dodging, don’t worry. With Upson and Terry sitting either side of the aisle the ticket inspector will be able to stroll right down the middle.

2. Gears. Travelling on the bus will be a nice reminder to the lads that getting out of first gear doesn’t necessarily mean you have go into reverse.

3. Control. The idea of having an open-top bus is so that people can throw things at the players. I know this sounds quite ridiculous, but hear me out. I am not talking about stones or John Terry’s collection of conquest knickers, I am talking about balls. Keep throwing balls at Rooney and I am absolutely convinced he will regain his touch around Piccadilly Circus. Just in time for Euro2012. Call it a public service.

4. Gerrard-Barry-Lampard-Milner. That’s right. One last look at this midfield line-up before Gerrard goes and sits at the front of the bus. Just behind Rooney.

5. Closing-down. When have you ever seen a bus driver sit back from the car in front? Exactly, never. He gets right up their backside. Or ‘bumper’ as it is more commonly known. Another reminder to the England players that closing down is a decent tactic. Especially if you’d like the ball back.

6. Posizione, Posizione, Posizione. Fabio Capello said after the win against Slovenia that he had found his team. Unfortunately, come 3pm on Sunday, he had carelessly lost them. If we get all the players on a bus and give Capello a map, I reckon he might be able to find them again. Then perhaps he’d like to drive the bus to Oman. And I don’t care if they take the long route.

7. Penalties. We didn’t lose on them! All in all, it was quite a pain free exit. Apart from ten minutes just before half-time we always looked like losing/getting annihilated. There was no biting of finger nails. No sweaty palms. No stomach churning. No hiding behind the sofa. Just acceptance. We were absolutely bloody useless. Well done lads. That’s the way to lose.

June 28, 2010