Tag: England

7 Reasons to be Glad We’re Playing Germany (Again)

It’s been a fraught week at 7 Reasons (.org). First we upgraded the website, then we redesigned the website, then we had a catastrophic failure of the website which left us offline for a day and then we fixed it, and are still tinkering with it to make it more stable. This caused confusion. We didn’t know whose turn it was to post yesterday. So, being diligent, conscientious humourists, we both wrote one. Sadly, we found our inspiration in the same subject. Fortunately though, we both said completely different things so, with apologies to readers in Australia, South Africa and Greece, we’re writing about England versus Germany again today. And possibly on Monday too (we’re a bit excited by it all).

1. The Great Escape. As comedy genius Bob Mills has observed, playing The Great Escape theme at England matches is pointless and out of context. On Sunday though, it could be in context. If we win, we will liberate ourselves from decades of World Cup tyranny at the hands of Germany. It actually could be a great escape. This may be the first match at which hearing The Great Escape played atonally on a trumpet will be meaningful, rather than just primal-scream-inducingly irritating. Then, perhaps, we won’t have to hear it again.

2. 5-1. The spectre of their ignominious defeat will loom large in the German consciousness. When we beat Germany 5-1 in Munich in 2001, Steven Gerrard was the architect of a lot that was good about our performance. And now he’s our captain! That should put the fear of God into them. Also, they can’t be unaware of the popular refrain, “5-1, even Heskey scored”, and Heskey’s in the squad too, so the Germans are at a psychological disadvantage before the game even starts. “Nein nein nein, es ist das Ziel Maschine, Heskey” will be the fearful reaction of the Germans upon his introduction to the game. Gerrard seems really up for it too. On Wednesday he said of the Germany game, “Bring it on!” . Well, he said “Brincchhh ii on”, in a voice so high that it startled dogs – I’ve had it translated.

3. Tyldesley. In commentary on Germany versus Ghana, Clive Tyldesley said, “…it’s a different Germany than we’ve seen in past tournaments”. This is excellent news. If Clive is right – and anyone who’s met a man named Clive will know that Clives are never wrong – this can only be good for us. After all, in past tournaments (except the one where the Russian linesman helped out), the Germany that we’ve seen have knocked us out (often on penalties). Bring on the different Germany!

Fabio Capello: Pictured outside a Little Chef.

4. Beer. Fabio Capello is coming to terms with the new challenges of managing at international tournament level. When we played well in the match against Slovenia…Slovakia?…no, almost certainly Slovenia, Fabio Capello attributed our much improved performance to permitting the England squad to drink beer on the night before the game. Germans, as we know, consume most of their beer in October so their team won’t realise its performance potential until November, by which time the match will definitely be over. It’s not tennis, after all. Is that match still going?

5. Common Bond. Germany and England have so much in common: They eat sausages, we eat sausages; they drink beer, we drink beer; they drive BMWs, we drive BMWs; they dress up in braces and leather hotpants and put a feather in their hatbands and slap each other’s bottoms, we…er…well…we don’t. Because it’s weird. But I doubt that lederhosen is what makes them good at penalties and, sooner or later, given that they’re so similar a nation to us, they’ll cock them up. After all, if the match goes to penalties Germany will have the pressure of expectation weighing on their shoulders. England certainly won’t.

6. Confidence. England had an uncertain start to World Cup 2010 but, on the evidence of Wednesday’s performance, we seem to be growing in confidence. We don’t have the self-possessed surety that the Brazil and Argentina teams seem to be imbued with, but there’s a way that we can attain that: By beating Germany. If we beat them on Sunday, our team will get the monkey off our back and will feel that they can take anyone on. The traditional obstacle to England’s progression in world cup tournaments will have been removed and we’ll believe we can accomplish anything. Except a Heskey goal, obviously, no one (except Germany) expects that.

7. Defences. The German defence looks suspect. Ghana created – and spurned – countless opportunities against them. The most notable of these occurred after thirteen minutes when Germany were totally undone by a fluid passing move at the right hand side of their penalty area. Sound familiar? Correct. That’s the same area that all of the brilliant creative interplay between Gerrard and Rooney took place in the England versus Slovenia match. They won’t be able to defend against it. “Take that, Mertesacker!” will be a particularly enjoyable thing to exclaim during the match when we score against them.

Our defence will be able to contain them. Most of the good attacking German play in this World Cup has occurred on the wings. And we have two fantastic fullbacks with Gerrard and Milner in front of them who’ll track back too. I don’t know what we’ll exclaim when we prevent them from scoring against us. “Blimey”, probably, or “crumbs”. But that’s what’s going to happen. We can win this. Be glad that we’re playing Germany on Sunday. Well…at least until kick-off. Then feel anxious as usual.

June 25, 2010
7 Reasons England Will Beat Ze Germans

1. Ze German Edlines. The German hacks are primed to write such classics as So Klose, But So Far. Although obviously they’ll write it in German. So it’ll be something like Zo Klose, But Zo Var. Basically, Miroslav Klose is going to take a shot from 50-yards which ricochets off the crossbar, flies up the other end of the pitch and finds the net. Net result England 1-0 Germany. German hacks have their headlines.

2. Ze Tactics. I am sure you have been wondering why Capello continues to play Gerrard on the left. It took me a while to work it out too. But finally I have. It’s all about balance. And ultimately making the opposition cock-up. Glen Johnson can’t defend for toffee (which is annoying because he loves the stuff). Anyway, the opposition think they should try and take advantage of this and attack down the left flank. However, because Gerrard tends to move away from his position on the left, the opposition see the gap on the right flank and wonder whether they should attack on that side. All this confusion results in them trying to compromise. And compromising means attacking straight down the middle. Right into Barry, Terry and Upson. It’s classic mind game stuff and the reason Capello is the genius that he is.

3. Ze Names. The Germans are named after lagers. A pint of Mertesacker. A pint of Schweinsteiger. A pint of Trochowski. The English are named after musicians. (David) James and (Gareth) Barry White. Oh, and there’s (John) Terry’s Chocolate Orange. You’re going to perform so much better if you listen to James and Barry White while munching on one of Terry’s Chocolate Oranges pre-game, than if you are downing three pints of lager.

4. Ze Beckenbauer. Franz said we have reverted to ‘kick and rush’ in this World Cup. How dare he! We don’t rush. We hang back and hope. Karma is a bitch and Beckenbauer will be summoned by Angela Merkel to explain why he gave the English such a great pep talk.

5. Ze 27 June. It’s Sieben Schlagfertig in Germany. Which is a day basically celebrated by muppets. If it rains on this day, it will apparently rain for the next seven weeks. I like the idea of raining on Germany’s parade and then continuously beating the Germans for seven weeks.

6. Ze Missing Of Ze Goals. Gerrard’s goal against the USA was missed by many because ITV decided to show an advert. Defoe’s goal against Slovenia was missed by many because the work experience boy at EDF Energy pressed the off button. England didn’t score against Algeria because everyone was watching. The simple conclusion to make is that I need to buy 10 million extension leads and forty million kettles. If I do that and press the on switch at 2:59pm on Sunday, I reckon I might just be able to blow a fuse somewhere on the National Grid and cause absolute chaos. We’ll all miss the game, but England will win 4-0. Don’t thank me, thank the nice people at Argos who are about to get a very big order.

7. Ze Zeven Reasons. I have drafts of 7 Reasons England Will Beat Argentina, 7 Reasons England Will Beat Portugal and 7 Reasons Why It’s Second Time Lucky For England And They Will Beat The USA ready to go. You can’t buy this kind of motivation. The England boys want to read my work. They are in a win-to-read position now. Which is so much more impressive than a boring win-t0-be-MBEs position.

June 24, 2010
7 Reasons That Vuvuzelas Are Annoying

1. The Obsession. The nation is obsessed with the vuvuzela. It’s impossible to read a newspaper, listen to the radio, watch the television, go to the pub, or read an internet humour site without someone bleating on about vuvuzelas. But I think that this focus on the vuvuzela is causing us to miss out on other World Cup stories. We’re just not getting enough ill-informed conjecture about problems with the ball: Is it that it’s too round? Is it the altitude? Does it fly too straight? Doesn’t it fly straight enough? Does it look too much like a fly?

It's a fly!

All of the coverage of the vuvuzelas is preventing us from having what we really want. 24 hour per day coverage of the ball. And more Robbie Savage.

2. The Name. The English language is a fusion of many languages from around the world and a lot of our words come from other countries. We get bungalow from India, sepia from Italy, mammoth from Russia and surrender from France (rather unsurprisingly). Yet it’s safe to say that our language wasn’t aided in its evolution by anyone who had been involved in professional football as, in the past week – from various players and former-players – I’ve heard “vuvulas”, “vuvuslas”, “the horns” and from Sir Geoff Hurst, no less, “uvuvezlas”. The awful mangling of the word vuvuzela is possibly the only thing that’s more grating than the sound of the instrument itself.

3. Stadium Atmosphere. The din of the vuvuzelas drowns out everything else occurring in the stadiums. This isn’t always a bad thing, as it drowned out the sound of happy Germans on Sunday, but it drowned everything else out too. The crowd reaction, singing, cheering, chanting, abuse; in fact, just about all of the things that reflect the partisan nature of football. The drone of massed vuvuzelas is a relentless unremitting cacophany that doesn’t abuse the referee, ask Fabio to dance, play the theme from The Great Escape (sorry, poor argument); doesn’t do anything fun or interesting at all. It’s just noise. An incessant racket that drowns out everything good about the stadium atmosphere. Everything.

4. Domestic Atmosphere. The vuvuzela operates at a similar pitch and tone to the human voice which means that, when you’re viewing the World Cup at home, you’re trying to filter out the frequency that other people in the room are speaking at. Thanks to the vuvuzela, if my wife turned to me during a match and said, “Would you like a beer?” or “Jennifer Aniston’s at the door, she wants to know if you can come out to play,” I probably wouldn’t hear her. Experience tells me that she’s unlikely to say either of those things, but what if she did and I missed it? Catastrophe. I hate going to the fridge.

5. Envy. It’s substantial, straight and three feet long, and I must say that I’m quite jealous, as there’s no way I could take anything like that to a football match in England. I’d probably be fed to a police-horse or charged with possession of a vuva vovos avuvuvu…“I’ll let you off with a caution this time sonny, now on your way”. We don’t even get trusted with bottled water over here.

6. Sound. The sound of massed vuvuzelas is like the sound of a swarm of angry wasps, but deeper. Usually, the larger an animal is, the deeper the sound that they make – so it’s giant angry wasps that we’ll hear the sound of all summer. Giant angry wasps! Well I certainly won’t be falling asleep during a match, or at any time at all during the summer. Except when Andy Townsend’s “analysing” the action, that is.

7. We’re Stuck With Them. There is only one thing that would be worse than enduring the sound of the vuvuzela: That would be banning the vuvuzela. Just because we Europeans have our own expectations of how a football match should be viewed, it doesn’t mean that they should be forced on the rest of the world. This is South Africa’s World Cup, and god knows they’ve earned it. World Cup 2010 should be a uniquely African spectacle and, much to my annoyance, this includes that giant dung beetle thing from the opening ceremony and the bloody vuvuzelas. But we shouldn’t be downhearted about this; sometimes the most memorable parts of World Cups are the unique things that the host nations bring to them. Mexico ’86’s wave, Argentina ’78’s ticker-tape, Italia ’90’s Three Tenors and USA ’94’s blank incomprehension about some sort of soccer-ball tournament going on. Long after many of the matches and incidents are forgotten, these are the memories that remain. And so it will be with the vuvuzela. We will have to suffer it for a month or so, but in time it’ll be the thing that the tournament is remembered for. We may even feel nostalgia for it. Eventually.

June 15, 2010
7 Reasons to Support The Referee

Well, that’s it, another domestic football season is over and now we’ve got the World Cup to look forward to. Next season, however, we should do things a little differently than we usually do. We should stop supporting our football teams and support the ref. Now that might seem like a strange and unusual thing to do, but if you consider it carefully, it’s quite logical really. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Colours. When you support your team you only get the choice of home and away kits to wear. When you support the ref, you get a veritable rainbow of shirts and scarves to choose from. Do you know what colour the ref’s going to be wearing this week, or next? You could justify donning a technicolour dreamcoat to support the referee and who wouldn’t want to wear one of those?

2. See More Teams. I need a football team to use as an example so if you could imagine that you support Bury FC, that would be a great help. Don’t worry, this will just be for a moment and you should be able to forget about it later, perhaps with therapy. As a Bury supporter next season, you would have to go to Gigg Lane every other week and watch Bury play League Two football. And then, should you wish to attend away matches too, you’d have to travel all over the country, at great expense, to watch Bury play League Two football. Your life would be dominated by League Two, and by Bury, and you wouldn’t really want that. If you supported a referee though, you wouldn’t have to see Bury-plus-other every week, you’d see two different teams. And if you chose a Premier League referee, you wouldn’t have to watch League Two football at all. You’d get to visit a lovely, well-appointed stadium for most matches, and you’d get to watch football played to a terrific standard every time. Brilliant. You may stop supporting Bury now.

3. Chants And Songs. When you’re a supporter of a popular club, you view matches amongst thousands upon thousands of other people, and it’s hard to express yourself. Most of the songs and chants have already been written. When you support the referee though, you can compose your own: “A rope! A tree! Enshrine the referee!”, “Who needs Mourinho? We’ve got D’Urso”. “He’s tough, but fair, he hasn’t any hair…Steve Bennett. Steve Bennett.” You can sing anything you like, you’re autonomous and creatively free.

4. Save Money. Now, you might be thinking that supporting the referee will cost you more than supporting a team, and you’d be correct. But you could offset some of the extra cost by supporting a local ref – one that lives near you. Then you’d be able to car-share with him because, after all, most refs drive to matches, and it’s not like they’ve got any friends to take up space in their car. They’ll probably be glad of the company.

5. Fair Play. Fed up of watching overpaid prima donnas fall over when an opponent is within three feet of them? Tired of watching aggressive gangs of players surrounding the man in the middle attempting to bully him? I know I am. You can register your protest against it by supporting the ref. Cheer as he pulls out his cards; spell the player’s name out for him as he writes it in his notebook, it’s usually “D-A-V-I-E-S”; shout “exemplary decision, Lino!” as the linesman makes a good call; praise the fourth official for his fabulous grasp of timekeeping. You’ll be sending out a message to sulky, petulant players and managers and you’ll feel good about it. The whole atmosphere that the game is played in will be improved and I’m certain that everyone will thank you.*

6. Heckling. Football, by its very nature, is an immensely partisan affair. Often when following your team, you find yourself allied with – and even supporting – people that you usually wouldn’t have anything to do with. If you’re at the Chelsea vs Newcastle fixture next season, you’re liable to be a supporter of one of those teams. Which means that you’re going to be cheering-on the Chelsea players, or the Newcastle players. If you support the ref though, you’re aloof from all of the partisanship and you can do what any reasonable, right-thinking individual would do. You can shout abuse at both Joey Barton and Ashley Cole.

7. Be An Individual. Everyone with a passing interest in football supports a team, usually it’s Manchester United. If you support the ref though, you’re not one of the herd, you’re an individual. You’re your own boss, blazing a new trail, setting your own rules of behaviour and taking a novel approach to your sporting involvement. You don’t even have to wait until next season. You can adopt a ref during the World Cup. I’m supporting Howard Webb: He may well be England’s best chance of reaching the final. Who’s with me?

*7 Reasons bears no legal responsibility for fans of the referee.

June 1, 2010
7 Reasons The Brylcreem Batting Challenge Is Flawed

The Brylcreem Batting Challenge puts you in the shoes of Kevin Pietersen and tells you to smack the ball as far as you can. It sounds like fun. And it was. Until I started getting bored and noticed how much better it could be.

1. The Ball. It’s bloody huge. It should break KP’s bat. Does it? Of course not. In fact it can be hit as far as a giant India-based jelly. As we shall see in a minute.

2. KP’s Neck. He hasn’t got one. I have seen Kevin Pietersen in the flesh. And there was quite a sizable neck on show. So where the hell has it gone? If they wanted a cricketer without a neck they should have called Gladstone Small.

3. Barbados. According to Brylcreem this is Barbados. Not only is it very small it would appear that a three toed giant is buried under the beach.

4. The Giant Lizard. This lizard is just across the sea from Barbados – on a beach in St. Vincent and the Grenadines by my calculations. That’s some 100 miles away. That scale makes this lizard approximately 65 miles long. Thank goodness my shot landed in the water. I would hate to have riled it.

5. India. At least I assume this is India. That is where I thought the Taj Mahal was situated. It’s quite hard to tell though when you have the Sydney Opera House and a giant jelly in the background.

6. New York. We started in England, then we went to the West Indies, then India, then Australia. I can understand that. Proper cricket nations in a proper cricket game. So why the hell have I just ended up in the Big Apple? Where is South Africa or Sri Lanka or New Zealand?

7. The Brylcreem Zone. It is not so much the fact that I ended up in the Brylcreem Zone that frustrates me – this is the objective of the game – it’s what I get for arriving here. My style is upgraded and I get a bonus 2000 points. Is that it? I have just twatted a ball from London to the Brylcreem Zone and all I get is a style upgrade and 2000 meaningless bonus points? Where the hell is my 10% discount code? Why is KP not nodding his appreciation? Has his big head fallen off? What a waste of bloody time.

May 3, 2010
7 Reasons The French Couldn’t Invade The UK

1. Language. A successful French invasion would result in the British speaking French. That’s not happening. The British have about as much interest in learning French as they do in my trousers. They are also incapable of learning something so… well… pointless. (The British I mean, not my trousers. Though, come to think of it, my trousers are fairly incapable in that department too). The fact is, we Brits just wouldn’t turn up to the classes. The French would eventually get fed up and go home. Then they’d find that while they were out for the day we took over. Genius.

2. Beaches. The French have dainty little feet. It’s a well known fact, in my mind, that they spend 56% of their time in the bathroom moisturising their toes. If they try and invade by boat it means making an assault via our beaches. These are made from stone. That’s enough to make them turn around and run out of petrol in the middle of the English Channel. Please note that name. The English Channel. None of this French Chanel No.5 rubbish.

3. Flights. Attempting to invade by plane would be particularly stupid as most of the planes destined for Heathrow get diverted to Charles de Gaulle anyway. Or Luton. Both are pretty horrendous.

4. Time Difference. The French are an hour ahead of the British. Not in common sense, just in time. Supposing the French finish work at 5pm their time. It would take them two hours to get to London. That would be 6pm our time. Rush hour. Told you they didn’t have common sense.

5. Food. There is no point in invading and then going home for tea. We’d just take our country back. The French would actually have to occupy the UK. This would mean eating British food. Well they’re not going to do that are they? Who wants a plate of fish and chips when you can have frog’s legs dipped in snail fluid?

6. Nelson. Horatio still gives the French nightmares. That is why you never see an onion-selling cyclist in Trafalgar Square. Fancy losing a battle to a bloke with one arm and one eye. Do you know how difficult it is steer a ship with one arm and one eye? That’s pretty lame France.

7. Scared. The French are big pansies. In the early 1800’s Nelson had both the French and Spanish fleets blockaded in at Toulon. Instead of fighting back, they slipped through the back entrance. (A nasty habit). Nelson ended up having to chase them all the way to the West Indies. And back again. And they still didn’t bloody engage in battle. If that is their attitude how could they possibly invade the UK? They’d run away crying if the foghorn on the Calais to Dover ferry was a bit too loud.

March 22, 2010
7 Reasons To Invade France

1. Riots. There is nothing the French like more than a riot. Half the time it doesn’t have to be about anything particular, they just like getting out there and giving it a go. They haven’t had one for a while so let’s give them something to riot about. I suspect, us invading – and the French Army waving us through – will work.

2. Language. French is just very silly. What is it with everything having to be masculine or feminine? In no other language do you refer to a male cat as feminine. In no other language is my toothbrush as masculine as Freddie Mercury. In no other language is my tool box as feminine as Alan Carr. It’s a load of nonsense. Let’s get rid of it.

3. Riviera. I don’t mind the fact that the French have a Riviera. What I do mind is that it is British water they are using. It comes from the South coast of England. I have seen it go out with the tide. It slips down past the West coast of France, past Portugal, sweeps under Spain and then heads up to the South Eastern corner of France. Now, as far as I am aware, the French don’t pay us for it. Nor have they even thanked us. Well if that is their attitude, it’s time to go and get it back.

4. Liberate The Fake Named. Don’t you feel sorry for all those otherwise normally named people trapped in Frenchness. I’m referring to all the Jack’s trapped as Jacques. And the John’s as Jean. And the Peter’s as Pierre. And the Luke’s as Luc. These are men. Or at least they would have been had they not been effeminate-d upon the completion of a birth certificate.

5. Liberate Brittany. Only the bloody French could name a place after a country they pretend to hate. Brittany quite clearly belongs to Britain. In the same way that the vast majority of New England belongs to England. And the vast majority of Koreans belong to Jonathan Lee.

6. Reduce The Cost Of Onions/Garlic/Tights. I bet you didn’t even realise that onions, garlic and tights were that expensive? Well they are. And the reason for that is because the French hoard 98% of the world’s stock. The rest of the world have to fight over the remaining 2%. Of course this means the demand inflates the price to excessive levels. It’s not fair.

7. Take Down The Imitation Blackpool Tower. What is it with the French? Why can’t they have any of their own ideas? I applaud their bottle for sticking a metal pointy thing in the middle of their capital city, but it is clearly a rip-off. It’s time it came down and was replaced by a burger van.

March 18, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why The British Should Not Travel To Australia

Joining us on the 7 Reasons sofa today is Alexandra Clement-Meehan: blogger, twitterer, Australian and maker of cheese. When she isn’t looking after her collection of meat or poisoning herself with her own cooking, she can be found writing for this wonderful sports blog, or tweeting – thankfully under the shorter name @splex.

1. Heat. It’s definitely too hot here for any normal human being to exist, and I do accept that I am, in fact, calling Australians abnormal – but as I am one, it’s allowed. Sunburnt English men and women are also not a pretty sight. One would even go as far as saying they’re a bit of an eyesore, spoiling our idyllic coasts and tranquil scenery. Not that they’re ugly, the pinkness and rawness is just so very… distracting.

2. Fauna. England doesn’t even have real native fauna. Do they even know what the word means? Australian fauna is unique to our island home, including all the wonderful spiders and deadly snakes. Do snakes even live in England? They shouldn’t. Too cold. Maybe they just slip around on the ice. Ice-snakes probably exist but they’d be unlikely to kill anyone, not like the Red-Bellied Black snake and the aptly named Brown snake. I should also mention that we have bloody big sharks as well.

3. Most of our citizens already live in England. Case in point: Rolf Harris – he’s an Australian hero. He took the wobble-board to soaring new heights before anyone else even knew it existed. You’d be hard pressed to even find a better Australian, and he resides in England, spending his time painting portraits of our* Queen. Secondly, who would pour your beers and serve you copious amounts of alcohol if not the Australian backpackers? Who would care for your upper-middle class children if not for the young Australian nannies? Exactly. There’s zero reason to leave the Motherland when you’ve got the best of both worlds in one place! Oh, and you might like to note that most of us are similar to this.**

4. Sport. It can be said that we’re a whole lot better at sport than you are. In fact, often, we’re embarrassingly better than you. Case in point: The Ashes 2006/2007. We definitely won that 5-0. Even though we were defeated in our most recent attempt, we at least won a test or two. By not travelling to Australia, any proud English-person can save face and avoid any heckling about their sporting prowess. We’re not that nice when it comes to sport, because we are just better than every other nation (except at snow-based events).

5. Distance. Everything is really far away and no one actually wants to waste their holidays in small, dingy, probably cockroach infested, coaches. Here’s an interesting fact: It would take almost an entire day to drive from the East coast of Australia to the West coast. Who has the time? Not even Australians have the time, which is why we don’t, and Western Australia remains the forgotten state. If one was to stay in England, they could spend their time going to places like Bristol or maybe even the town that Midsomer Murders is filmed in. It may actually be called Midsomer. I think John Nettles lives there.

6. TV. It’s safe to say that British television is exponentially better that anything the Australian TV world could ever produce (except maybe Neighbours, but for some reason the Brits love that, which seems strange, because – news flash! – it’s actually a terrible show). Now that has been cleared up we can continue. Any charming and pithy British television series that reach our shores do so months, if not years, after they have been aired in Britain. Another case in point: Dr Who. The recent Christmas specials have only just been screened….in February. So if any British citizen were to travel, and find themself in a state of ennui mixed with desperate homesickness, they couldn’t turn on the box and see a brand new show direct from the UK. If it’s television you like, there’s definitely no point in coming to Australia.

7. Accent. Let’s face facts here, you don’t understand what we’re saying and we definitely haven’t a clue what you’re on about – you English and your Cockney rhyming slang! We have it as well, but it’s not hard to decipher. We have things like “dog’s eye” and “dead horse” (“meat pie” and “tomato sauce”, respectively). You have things like “loop the loop” for “soup” – just say soup! It has at least two less syllables! But I digress, the Australian accent is a thing of beauty, yet it is misunderstood by most of the English-speaking world. Upon hearing feedback regarding the aforementioned accent, it’s plain that the English are unsure why we question everything. We’re an inquisitive nation – you might like to think that’s because we’re descended from convicts and therefore we have simple minds – but we’re not simple, ok? It’s just that our rising inflection, like our outlook on life, is always in the ascendant and positive.

*This is what happens when a Pom edits you.

**Definitely untrue.

March 13, 2010
7 Reasons to go and Watch Invictus

1. Morgan Freeman. Usually the veteran actor gets typecast as God, but in Invictus he gets promoted and puts in a superb performance as Nelson Mandela. His accent is a bit dodgy, but the same could be said of all South Africans. Either that or they genuinely believe it’s called “Sowt Efrica”.

2. Rugby. There aren’t many decent films about rugby and the depiction of the game is pretty good in Invictus. It’s not up to the standard of This Sporting Life, but that’s almost 50 years old and is about the wrong rugby – the one they play in the North-West that makes you shout “For fucks sake, run around him” when you accidentally see television coverage of it. Perhaps I’m missing some subtle nuance of that game, but why do they always run straight into an opposing player?

3. Crying. Everyone loves a good cry – something I often tell myself when I’ve put my foot in it again, and if you’re prone to crying at sport or movies, you’ll definitely cry at the conclusion of Invictus. Eastwood manages to wring just about every ounce of emotion out of the film’s climax. If you’re at all sensitive, you’ll cry like a girl – even if you aren’t one.

4. Crying. I didn’t cry like a girl while everyone else in the cinema was blubbing though. Oh no. I cried when Jonah Lomu ran amok with the ball and rampaged through the defenceless England backs. It brought it all back to me; the big bully, those poor little mites, the carnage. Oh, the horror.

5. Sound. Want to hear rugby with improbable sounds dubbed on? Of course you do. Go and see Invictus. Every tackle sounds like a gunshot within a biscuit-tin within a kettle-drum within an empty water-tank within an Airbus A340 flying through a thunderstorm. The woman sitting next to me gasped during every tackle. She may have been mental though, there’s usually one in every cinema.

6. England. As the film is based on real sporting events I’m not giving anything away when I tell you that Rory Underwood scores a try for England during the film. This is great, though the rest of the audience will not thank you for celebrating it. Trust me.

7. Matt Damon. MAAAATTTT DAAAAAMMMON!!!!! He is brilliant in Invictus. His South African accent is convincing and he plays Francois Pienaar with a lovely, understated dignity. He has also transformed his entire body to play the role. The shot in which they show his upper torso is entirely gratuitous, but his musculature is astonishing – it is physical evidence of the dedication that he brought to his preparation for the film. Being much shorter than the real Francois Pienaar, he had to stand on a box for several of his scenes. I explained this to my friend before we went in to see the film. “Matt Damon’s pretty short”, I said, demonstrating his height with my hand at about chest level. I then raised my hand above me, stood on tiptoes, and extended my right arm fully, “but Francois Pienaar’s enormous, he’s 6ft 3!!! That’s…er…an inch taller than we are”. I have already been made to feel quite silly for that, thank you for asking.

February 15, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons to Watch the Six Nations

If you get your news from 7 Reasons, you’ll be delighted to learn that the Six Nations starts today. We have decided to celebrate this with a guest post.

Our guest post comes from Rachel Simmonite, a 21 year old BA Hons Media and Communication (Journalism) student at Birmingham City University. When she’s not busy gracing Twitter with her wit, wisdom, and frankly astonishing knowledge of club rugby, she can be found writing here.

1. Birthday. This year, the Six Nations celebrates its tenth birthday. Of course, the tournament has been going on forever – in various guises of the Home International Championship and the Five Nations – but this year is the tenth year since the Italians joined the party; with their light blue kit, dodgy hair and sideburns, and their habit of beating Scotland every other year or so, Italy – despite being the whipping boys of the tournament – have always provided good competition. And they have the best national anthem.

2. Rivalries. Talking to an Irish or Welsh friend during this tournament means you get a lot more abuse than normal. National pride and traditional rivalries are all the rage during the Six Nations. Being English, and therefore supporting the red roses through thick and thin while thinking back to the good old days of 2003, you get it in the neck more than anyone else, as every side wants to beat you more than anything. The Celtic teams (Ireland, Wales and Scotland) need to beat you for bragging rights – I haven’t been able to face my Welsh friends for the past two years – and to try and get the Triple Crown or, in the case of Scotland, the Calcutta Cup, while the French and the Italians just like to join in with the English bashing.

3. Something for everyone. Whether you’re after someone nice to look at, or a good game, the Six Nations provides both. The annual desire to beat your local rivals for northern hemisphere dominance brings out the best of the teams, both in the forwards, and the backs. With the return of the rolling maul to the game – following last year’s ELVs* – the forwards can add that extra string to their bow again, enabling loads of fans (either in the pub or at the ground) to go “HEAVE” whenever it happens. As for the backs; as long as they’re running with the ball, it doesn’t affect the precise alignment of their gelled hair, and they’re stealing the headlines, they’ll be having fun.

Rugby isn’t just about the game now, it’s about the totty. Following calendars such as Le Dieux de Stade, the word “moisturiser” has become commonly used in rugby changing rooms, as has the phrase “fake tan” – particularly if you’re Welsh. If I was feeling shallow then my 7 reasons to watch the Six Nations would be very short: Jonny Wilkinson, Tom Croft, Leigh Halfpenny, Hugo Southwell, Brian O’Driscoll, Yannick Jauzion and Sergio Parisse. Of course there are more than seven good looking players in this year’s tournament, that selection are just my favourites.

4. Anyone can win it. The beauty of the Six Nations is that you never know who is going to win the tournament; there’s no runaway winner or clear favourite. I mean, nobody would have thought that Wales would win the Grand Slam in 2005. Likewise, we didn’t expect Italy to come fourth in 2007 – the year when France beat Ireland with a +4 points difference – but that was all that separated them. Of course, with Ireland having won the Grand Slam last year (only their second since 1948), they will be labelled as favourites for this year’s tournament. But on their day, anyone can beat anyone – the Welsh very nearly spoiled the Irish party last year and who knows what the French will come up with, having beaten the World Champions, South Africa, in November? We do know that the Scots and the Italians will probably be fighting it out for the wooden spoons, but who knows? And as for England…

5. The WAGs. Becoming a rugby WAG is increasingly popular – even a member of the royal family, Zara Phillips, is a rugby WAG. The recent crop started with Gabby Logan and Kirsty Gallacher; the likes of Kelly Brook and Una (from pop group the Saturdays) followed for England, with Duffy and Charlotte Church flying the flag for the Welsh WAGs. It is inevitable that if a well known rugby WAG is in attendance at a match the television director will give them plenty of screen time. If not, you’ll be able to see photos of them cheering on their men in the Daily Mail.

6. The singing. You can’t have a rugby match without the singing. The Welsh, in particular, are very good at the singing – it’s like their second sport after rugby. With the likes of Katherine Jenkins, Charlotte Church and that blond one off of the X-Factor to sing the national anthem, Delilah, and Bread of Heaven, they do their singing brilliantly. England have adopted a song that comes with actions, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”. I think you have to go on a rugby tour to learn the actions though. Ireland spoil the crowd with two anthems before a match while the French and Italian anthems are just great – I love them – like I love the bagpipes in Flower of Scotland. In fact, I love the anthems more than the bagpipes.

7. The romance. How could you treat your better half on Valentine’s weekend this year? Card? Flowers? Cheesy Marvin Gaye CD? How about a weekend in Cardiff, Paris or Rome? Arrive on the Friday night, take them out for a meal, let them do damage to the credit card on the Saturday morning and then – come the Saturday afternoon at about midday (or Sunday in the case of Rome) – announce that you’ve got tickets for the rugby and enquire whether they fancy a romantic afternoon watching thirty men run around a pitch for eighty minutes?

Of course, if your other half really doesn’t like rugby then you may find yourself in a spot of bother – but it is something that you love…

*Experimental Law Variations

February 6, 2010