Author: 7 Reasons

7 Reasons Not To Ignore The Elephant In The Room

Come on, hands up. How many of you have noticed an elephant in the room and then just turned the other cheek? Be honest. Well that was very risky of you. Don’t you know the dangers? In keeping with tradition, here are seven, yes seven, reasons why ignoring it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Just wrong.

1. Love. If an elephant has entered your room there are a number of possibilities as to why. Maybe they’re lost? Maybe you’re lost (and elephant’s trunk)? Maybe they’re bored of the savanna and now want to live in Bolton? Whichever it is, ignoring them is not the way to go. The chances are they will be nervous, afraid and sceptical of their new surroundings, so the least you can do is make them feel loved and welcome.

2. Damage. Elephants are big lumps of meat and probably not too dexterous when it comes to tight spaces. As a result you need to watch it like a hawk. If you so much as glance back at facebook you could find yourself losing that impending insurance claim. If the elephant treads on the coffee table and the TV and the wife, but you’ve been too busy poking some fifteen year-old on the internet to notice, well, it’s just going to be your word against the elephants. And people just don’t beat elephants. At anything.

3. Water. This will affect those of you who have a water meter more than those who just pay for the buffet ‘all you can use’ service. Elephants like water. Sometimes they like spraying it at clowns, but for the most part they like drinking it and washing themselves with it. Unlike the bush, your home probably has water on tap. If that elephant gets anywhere near your kitchen you are going to be consolidating your debts quicker than you can say ‘Accident Help Line’.

4. Sticky Buns. I have no idea whether elephants and their carnal desires towards sticky buns is in fact a truth or merely a myth. The last place I want to discover if it is the former however, is in my lounge. As a result the elephant shall not move from my line of vision. And if you don’t want an elephant sucking on your weekly pleasure, I suggest you do the same.

5. Mates. Don’t be so naive as to think the elephant is alone. Chances are, half his/her pride are waiting outside while he/she checks out places to stay for the night. Perhaps they are headed to Scotland for the Elephant Polo World Championships? But don’t think about heading off to the study to research this on Wikipedia, because if you disappear for evne just a split-second Babar and his mates will be flying through that hole in the wall and making them selves comfy on the sawdust. Or the sofa as it was known earlier that day.

6. Hunters. Sadly, you are not the only endangered species here. It is quite possible that the elephant is hiding at yours because some git is after his/her tusks. I can’t believe for a minute that you are pro-elephant hunting, so you won’t let it back on the street, will you? Instead you must protect it. And protecting it means keeping an eye on it at all times. If you let it wander off to the kitchen alone the hunter will see his opportunity. He won’t waste a moment. Before you know it he will have popped his weapon through the cat flap and fired off rapidly. You’d need more than a Kleenex to clear up that mess.

7. Comfort. Or lack of it. The elephant in the room is glaring. The elephant in the room makes everyone uncomfortable. The elephant in the room is a hindrance to achievement. The elephant in the room scares the cat. The elephant in the room keeps squashing unused lemons into the carpet. It’s getting ridiculous. It’s time to stop ignoring it. You must deal with the elephant now. Right now. It’ll be for the best. We promise.

January 19, 2011
7 Reasons The Darren Bent Transfer Rumours Are…er… Just A Bit Strange

1. They’re Memorable. Wait. What. Huh? Never mind people remembering where they were when they heard that Kennedy had been shot by Lee Harvey Oswald/spooks on the grassy knoll/a Wisconsin bear hunter’s epic and unfortunate ricochet. Never mind people remembering where they were when Diana had been killed in a traffic accident/sinister Prince Philip-backed plot/returning of his angel to heaven by Jesus. Those events have now been overshadowed by our own epoch-defining memorable moment. Henceforth, we will all remember where we were when we heard the rumour that Darren Bent was leaving Sunderland for Aston Villa for £18 million.

2. They’re Shocking. ”Eighteen million pounds!”, I exclaimed as I spat my morning espresso at my laptop. “Darren Bent!”. “Eighteen million pounds!”. And suddenly my previously sleeping cat appeared by my side, staring at me, with a curious expression on his face and his ears pricked. And then it dawned on me. The shock of the news had caused me to say “Eighteen million pounds” in a voice so high that it shocked my cat. A voice so high that out of the two of us, only he could hear it. A voice so high that Keith Richards on the seventh day of a bender in an opium den would have to gaze upward to see it. Using a telescope.

3. They’re Incomprehensible. After a bit of a lie down, during which my voice fell back down to Earth from the upper ionosphere and my cat got on with some urgent dozing, I tried to digest the news. Nope. It doesn’t compute. There is nothing about this news that isn’t baffling and incomprehensible, and I’m married to a woman and live in Yorkshire, so I’m one of the world’s foremost authorities on baffling and incomprehensible.

4. The Money. Eighteen million pounds, to be exact (I may have already mentioned this). Now eighteen million pounds isn’t what it used to be. Time was when eighteen million pounds could probably buy you a Premier League winning squad, but those days are gone and with Manchester City paying silly money for every world-class player out there, transfer fees are currently sky-high. But Darren Bent isn’t a world-class player, and Man City aren’t trying to buy him (they already have Jo) so how in all the name of all that is holy can anyone justify paying eighteen million pounds for Darren Bent? Darren Bent! He was overpriced at sixteen and a half million when he signed for Spurs four years ago and he looked a better player back then with more potential. How is he one and a half million pounds better now? We’ve all seen the sitter he famously missed against Portsmouth and yes, Sandra Redknapp could have scored it. With her eyes closed. How can a club that didn’t back its previous manager with transfer funds at the start of the season now justify spending eighteen million pounds now. On Darren Bent? Rafael van der Vaart has been the best signing in the Premier League this season and he only cost eight million. Is Darren Bent ten better than van der Vaart? Really?

5. It’s Aston Villa. Last season, a move to Villa would have looked like a step-up for Darren Bent. But this season Steve Bruce has got Sunderland playing fantastic football (except against Newcastle) and they’re an improving squad in the hunt to get European football next year. And Darren Bent is an integral part of the first team. Villa, on the other hand, are hovering alarmingly above the relegation zone and are fielding a team half full of old men and children every match; it’s a bit like the home team in Berlin in 1945, except that they’re managed by Gerard Houllier. Why would anyone want to change to that side?

Is this a logical move?

6. It’s Greedy. The only thing that can possibly be motivating this move from the top of the Premier League to the bottom is money. It can’t be to improve his game by working with Houllier and it doesn’t seem likely that he wants to return to the Championship, so it must be solely for the money. But it’s not as if he’s earning a pauper’s wage, he’s a Premier League football player! How much more money can he possibly need? There can’t have been avarice on this scale since…well, okay…it happens every day, but outside of banking and parliament, there can’t have been such a naked example of greed since the dawn of time. Or perhaps earlier.

7. Breaking News. As I’ve been writing this the fee has changed. Now it’s twenty four million pounds! It’s gone up. Now he’s three times better than van der Vaart. In fact, Fernando Torres only cost Liverpool twenty million. So Darren Bent is now better than Fernando Torres. I give up! This can’t be real, I’m just going to assume that it’s all some sort of strange dream and hope that when I wake up this whole story isn’t here. There’s no place like home…There’s no place like home…

January 18, 2011
7 Reasons To Stone The Crows

1. Farmers. I have never been a farmer, lacking as I do the necessary sheepdog and accompanying whistle. I imagine, though, it must be tough work. Tiring work. Frustrating work. Especially if you have ploughed your field and sowed the seed only to see a flock of crows engulf the scene. It’s at this point when you have a choice. Allow them to eat your livelihood or revert to the stones. Whichever you choose, you also need to invest in a better scarecrow. *

2. Rivalry. If you live in the city of Adelaide, Australia, you may well support Port Adelaide Football Club in the AFL. In doing so you immediately have a rival. They are across town and are called the Adelaide Crows. You may take exception to defeat at the hands of your nemesis and wish to take matters into your own hands. To, you know, bring some pride back to your end of town.*

3. Attack. Picture the scene. You are walking along the street, minding your own business, when an armoured vehicle rocks up next to you with crows on its roof. And when I say crows, I mean a Common Remotely Operated Weapon Station. You know, one of those things that you can mount a machine gun on and then operate from the comfort and security of the driver’s seat. If this happens you need to get prepared. If he starts firing you need to use whatever means you can to fight back. And chucking stones at the crows might be your only hope. Good luck.*

4. Words. The collective noun for crows is a murder and, if we take that as some sort of corrupted historical instruction, we should be killing them. Now, shooting them would probably be the best way to do this but, as most of the 7 Reasons readership is based in the UK, there probably aren’t that many gun-owners among us. This would leave us furiously hurling bullets at them (which would be expensive) or desperately searching for alternate methods of killing them. Though they live in trees and rope is in plentiful supply from chandlers all around our island nation, hanging them isn’t practical as crows can defy gravity. Basically they’d just flutter about for a bit then fly back to the branch we’d hanged them from so, in essence, we’d just be tying crows to trees. Where they live anyway. This really leaves stoning as the only viable option.

5. Australia. In Australia, where the phrase stone the crows is said to have originated – or should that be aboriginated – the crows eat lambs. That’s right, lambs. Now I haven’t been too close to Australian lambs, but they seem like quite sizeable creatures to me. And frankly, if I lived in an upside-down land where large black birds were capable of swooping up from the sky below me and killing animals that are the size of human babies (which apparently have enough to fear from dingoes over there as it is), I’d be ready to stone them too. Or I’d go even further and rock them. What’s more, being English, my throws would have a better chance of hitting them than the natives’ efforts.***

6. Do The Right Thing. Crows are the proper animal to stone. I – before I corrected a spelling mistake – spent an earlier paragraph exhorting you, the reader, to stone the cows. But cows are definitely not an animal that you should be stoning. They’re large – surprisingly fast – and would probably become quite cross if you were to hurl stones at them. Not to mention the possibility of being shot by a furious and ruddy-faced farmer. Stoning cows is wrong. Stoning crows is right.

7. Kia-Ora. Remember the Kia-Ora advert where crows impersonate a hobo-child’s dog to relieve him of his Kia-Ora, despite his protestations that it’s too orangey for them? You’ll know if you’ve seen it, the music will still be reverberating round your head over twenty-five years later ready to surface when you least expect it to. Or want it to. Which is never.

Enjoy!

And now we all probably want to stone the crows.

*7 Reasons would like to point out that we do not condone the stoning of crows whether they be real crows, the Adelaide Crows or the Common Remotely Operated Weapon Station.**

**No, on second thoughts, fuck them. Stone away.

***We can probably keep this up until the next Ashes series in 2013.

January 17, 2011
Russian Roulette Sunday: Blimey! It’s The Future. Now.
Last week, 7 Reasons took a step backward. We went back in time to the antediluvian age of print when our words – if not our names – appeared in Esquire magazine. How can we top that, we wondered. The present will just seem humdrum now. So we decided to ignore the present and plan for the future.

In historical envisaging of the future, it’s all hoverboards, cars that fly and spangly jumpsuits. But it’s fast becoming clear that the true instrument of the future will be the Kindle. That’s how things will be read in years to come. We determined that the way forward for 7 Reasons was to embrace the Kindle and prepare for it. Well, Jon thought that we should wear spangly jumpsuits and LED watches, but fortunately he lost the coin-toss.

So we’ve got together with the people at Amazon and we’ve made it happen. From today, we have a new thing:

That’s right Kindlers, 7 Reasons is now available on your Kindles. So when you’re out there Kindling in your futuristic world of the future, you need never miss a single 7 Reasons post. They’ll just appear on your Kindle via the combined mediums of witchcraft, space-age jiggery-pokery and the wireless internet. You can subscribe to 7 Reasons : Kindle Edition here; you can even have a free 14 day trial. For the rest of us backward peasants there’ll still be the old-fashioned website but you, Kindlers, the beautiful people of the future, will be experiencing 7 Reasons in many amazing ways.

Things the beautiful-future-people will be able to do with their Kindles:
- Read 7 Reasons in direct sunlight.
- Read 7 Reasons for hours and hours without straining their eyes.
- Spot 7 Reasons spelling-mistakes with their built-in dictionary (but not as a drinking game, a post by Jon could prove fatal).
- Be better than the rest of us.
- Think of a witty and brilliant fifth thing.
Things that the rest of us will be able to do without Kindles:
- Stand in mud.
- Eat a raw turnip.
- Point at the beautiful-future-people.
- Lick a fetid dog.
- Wail with despair and cry until our souls hurt.
So, that’s the future: Available now. 7 Reasons will return tomorrow in many forms. Like the Devil.
January 16, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Chase The World’s Most Dangerous Motor Race In A Rentcar

If you are one of our Argentinian or Chilean based readers, you may have seen bikes, quads, cars and trucks flying through your garden in the last week. This, we must point out, is not the doing of 7 Reasons. Instead we point you in the direction of the Dakar Rally which is currently winging its way through the deserts of South America. The Dakar Rally is widely acknowledge as both the toughest and most dangerous motor race in the world. You’d think, therefore, that chasing the race in a rentacar – while filming it – is a rather crazy thing to do. Well not if you are Simon Lee. Simon did exactly that this time last year and the result is the film Dream Racer – to be released later this year. Before you head off to the cinema though, let’s find out why Simon did it.

1. Because You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do. I’ve wanted to make a movie like this for so long that when I met Christophe and heard about his dream of finishing the Dakar Rally on his motorbike, I knew I HAD to do it. I couldn’t get a broadcaster to back it, so I couldn’t afford a camera crew, a sound man a producer or any of the usual things you would have on a shoot like this. Ultimately I just thought “sod it, it’s now or never”, clawed together just enough cash to get me there, left my wife in Australia with our 6 week old daughter, flew to Argentina and made a movie.

2. Because Nothing Beats Asking A Hertz Clerk For “A Rentacar To Do The Dakar Rally”. Ok, I wasn’t quite “doing” the Dakar Rally, but I was about to drive 10,000 km across some of the harshest terrain on earth. And I drove it in a 2 wheel drive roller skate with a 1.4 litre engine – a Fiat Sienna.

3. Because The Dakar Is The Greatest Mechanical Show On Earth. Despite having spent the best part of 18 months working on this film project, I’m not actually a big fan of motorsport. That said, there is something extraordinary about watching tons of steel hurtling down sand dunes the size of mountains. It’s particularly exciting when you’re playing “dodge the hurtling tons of steel” whilst filming.

4. Because Real Life Delivers Better Scripts Than You Could Ever Write. When I embarked on the project, I knew that it had potential as a great adventure documentary, but I could never have anticipated just what a roller coaster journey it would turn out to be. 3 weeks before the start of the race, it looked like it wasn’t going to happen, then out of the blue, Christophe empties his bank account and enters. Then he calls up the KTM factory in Austria to arrange payment for the bike he’d ordered, and they’d sold it to someone else! I mean, you wouldn’t write this stuff. Then to do the whole race without even a mechanic, get seriously injured, ride a perfect stage in the desert and still finish the race – this is the stuff of Hollywood blockbusters – just without the multi-million dollar budget.

5. Because There’s A Chilean Radio Station That Plays Non-stop Late Eighties/Early Nineties Hits. Driving interminable miles across the Atacama Desert afforded me ample opportunity to re-live my musical youth. I think I may even have sung out loud to the Soup Dragons “I’m Free”.

6. Because If It’s Easy It’s Probably Not Worth Doing. Making this movie has been one of the hardest things that I have done (and it’s not quite over yet). Everything – from chasing funds, to three draining weeks in South America, to trying to balance the project with being a half decent father and husband as well and keep money coming in to pay the bills – has been bloody hard. But boy did it feel good being there to film Christophe crossing the line, knowing everything we had been through to get there! As you’ll see in the movie, it was a pretty emotional moment…

7. Because Maverick Solo Movies Are Where It’s At. There’s something equally terrifying and exhilarating about going it alone on a project like this. At the end of the day it comes down to raw drive and creativity and the ever-present question of “just how badly do you want this?” I truly hope that this comes through in the film, because ultimately that’s what it’s about – the story of what happens when you stop listening to the excuses conjured up by your rational mind, and act instead on the niggling inner voice that’s urging you to step out and live your dreams.

Dream Racer will be released mid-2011. To view the trailer and follow the progress of the Dream Racer project, join the Dream Racer Facebook group.

January 15, 2011
7 Reasons Reccurring Dreams Are Annoying

I had a dream last night. And the other week. And last month. And the month before that. It’s getting boring now. Annoying even.

1. Repetition. As one may have established a reccurring dream is one that happens time after time after time. I suffer with one. It’s about me, back at school or university, with an impending deadline. The problem is, I haven’t even started doing my work. The scenario usually means I have twenty-four hours to write a dissertation. As dreams go, it is rubbish. I’d be annoyed if it happened once in a year, but to have it once every couple of weeks is just plain tiresome.

2. Panic. Despite the fact that it is a dream, I can’t help but get in panic. Though it’s an odd panic. In my dream I am not panicking. Which annoys me for starters, but it’s not half as annoying as the panic I feel in the sleeping me. As if I am watching my dream from above yet I am unable to control any of my actions. I want myself to panic, in much the same way as I want England to play good football. The more I want it though, the more I seem to laugh about the situation. In much the same way as the more I want England to play good football, the more Emile Heskey touches the ball.

3. Logic. Or should that be the lack of it. In last nights dream I appeared to be less interested in getting to the library to do my work and instead was solely focused on returning the ‘Automatic Putting Device’ to its home in the shed. No, I have no idea what an ‘Automatic Putting Device’ is either. Nor why it lives in a shed. In real-life I would like to think I would question such a thing, but in my dream state it was as natural to me as scratching my armpit.

4. Meaning. What does a reccurring dream about not doing your coursework mean? It’s not as if when I was at school or university I didn’t do my work and get it in on time. Well, not often anyway. So it’s not as if I am re-living my younger days and it’s not a metaphor for my attitude today. If I don’t have any work I can hardly hand it in late can I? It’s baffling.

5. People. None of my friends or family ever appear in my reccurring dreams, which seems somewhat ironic seeing as they are the reccurring characters in my life. Instead, I end up being friends with someone from school or university who I have never been friends with in my life. That’s not to say I disliked them, we just didn’t hang around together. In my dream though, we seem to do nothing but hang around together. Hang around together not doing our coursework and taking Automatic Putting Devices to sheds. Hardly the stuff of legend.

6. Realisation. That moment when I wake up and realise it was all a dream. Again. I curse myself for being unable to dream about something more interesting. Cricket or tea or an opossum. And then I curse myself for not realising during the dream that I was dreaming. Why can’t I just recognise that I have been here before? Why can’t I wake myself up, turn over and think about Dame Edna Everage talking to her opossums? Why? Why can’t I?

7. Resentment. They say the grass is always greener on the other side. Sometimes, this is ridiculously wide of the mark, but when it comes to me and my dreams, it is as true as the existence of you and me. If there is ever a conversation about dreams, I try and avoid it. I don’t want to listen to their tales of heroism and joviality. I get jealous. Why them? Why not me? Even more frustrating is when I am asked if I had a dream. I can only describe the feeling as one of loneliness and inadequacy. And it keeps me annoyed for the rest of the day.

January 14, 2011
7 Reasons That Chugging Doesn’t Work On Me

Chugging: I hate it. Being chugged is a loathsome experience and I can’t help thinking ill of chuggers either. And their chuggery-pokery just doesn’t work on me. Here’s why.

1. It’s Always Me. Anyone who claims that they are always targeted by chuggers might come across as somewhat paranoid or persecutional. But, the fact is, that I am always targeted by chuggers. Literally, every last damned one of them will see me coming and try to stop me on the street. Other people seem to be able to walk along the street unmolested. My wife, for example, rarely gets stopped, but I can’t walk down a busy shopping street without having to fight off swarms (no idea what the collective noun for chuggers is. A horde? A phalanx? A menace?) of them. Do I have a kind face? Do I look gullible? Do I look like Danny Wallace? No, none of those things (well perhaps the second) but, despite this, Saturday afternoon shopping for me is like running the gauntlet, but with fewer Romans, and more laminated id cards on lanyards.

2. Time. The assumption that my time isn’t important is infuriating. They’re trying to steal my time. And I like time. I don’t have enough of it already, so I’m very protective of the time that I have. If I’m wandering around town with some friends looking relaxed and happy, then that’s because it’s time I’ve set aside for wandering around town with my friends looking relaxed and happy. It’s not an indicator that my time would be better spent talking to a chugger about cancer for ten minutes before we both agree that it’s probably a bad thing and I give them all my money via direct debit over the next five years. Nor is it an indicator that I’m not doing anything important. I am. The assumption that I’ve nothing better to do than talk (or, as they prefer; listen, nod and agree) with someone I don’t know about a cause that they’re interested in is just arrogant.

3. The Guilt-Trip. A woman signing people up to an environmental charity once said to me, as I rushed past her on the way to meet my wife for lunch, “Don’t you care about the environment?”. This was brilliant. I could reply “no”, and appear to be a borderline sociopath who cared not one whit about something fundamental to human existence, or I could reply “yes”, and leave myself open to her pitch. Because that’s what she wanted. She wanted use my innate sense of social responsibility and congenital niceness to trap me into a dialogue with her. I had to think on my feet. “Don’t you care about my wife?”, I replied. This worked. She just gazed at me, perplexed, which allowed me to continue my journey*. But why should I be made to feel guilty just because my agenda is different and I don’t want to stop and sign up to her cause?

4. Politeness. I’m a well-brought-up young man. And chugging attempts to ruthlessly exploit that to deprive me of time and money. I was raised to be nice to people. To stop and listen to them when they are talking to me and certainly not to ignore someone and walk away when they’re addressing me. But chugging forces me to do that. This makes me feel like a bad person. Not as bad as Hitler, obviously, but not as good as I would like to think I am, which is sort of a happy medium between Mother Theresa and the Pope. And by a happy medium, I don’t mean Derek Ocorah, he seems like a right misery. I hate having to interrupt people in order to go about my business. It makes me feel awful.

5. Passion. There’s no doubt that many chuggers are passionate about the causes they are trying to sign people up to. But that doesn’t mean that I’m passionate about that cause. And that doesn’t make me a bad person. If I don’t want to sign up to a lifetime of Red Cross junk mail, email or any other form of spam that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about medicine or disaster relief. What it does mean is that perhaps my money and time (both of which are finite resources) go to other – equally worthy – causes that I prefer. What I shouldn’t have to do is justify that decision to a stranger every time I go into town to buy some light bulbs or a new wok.**

6. It’s Cynical. Chuggers are earning money to sign people up to their causes. They’re not being paid commission, this is a myth. But no one would get paid a wage if they weren’t effectively raising money for the causes that they represent. So while they’re attempting to make me feel guilty for not signing up to (which they tend not to recognise is a wholly different thing to not caring about) their causes, they’re profiting from the transaction. Their attempts to sign me up aren’t wholly altruistic yet they’re represented as being so. It causes me to wonder whether they genuinely believe in what they’re trying to sign me up to, or whether they’re cynically attempting to exploit me to hit a performance target.

7. It Taints My View Of The Charity. In fact, it makes me think uncharitable thoughts about charitable causes. I love Amnesty International, I think it’s a brilliant organisation, but will they be getting any money from me? No. Because I’m the sort of person who won’t support organisations whose practices I disagree with. I’m not saying I definitely would have donated money to AI had they not attempted to sign me up twelve times one Wednesday afternoon (which, ironically, may be an infringement of my human rights), but I certainly won’t be doing so now. I won’t be signing up to any morally reprehensible pro-oppression organisations to spite Amnesty though, that would be taking things too far, and the WI seem to be getting on fine without my help, but Amnesty have insured that they won’t be getting any of my money. Their chugging has been counter-productive.

*I could have substituted any phrase for “my wife” as long as I’d answered the question with a question. It’s foolproof. “The Gruffalo”, “Mathematical Biology”, “my underpants”,”The Moon”,”Cheryl Cole”. All of those would have worked equally well and would have allowed me to make my escape. Try it yourself.

**Which is not very often, I don’t go through an abnormal amount of woks. I go through a regular amount of woks.

January 13, 2011
7 Reasons to get a Cross-Eyed Opossum

This, as I’m sure you already know, is Heidi the cross-eyed opossum, a resident of Leipzig Zoo. Now that you’ve seen her, you’ll want one of your own. And a cross-eyed opossum would make a great pet. Here’s why.

1. It’s The Cutest Thing In The World. Just look at the pictures. Have you ever seen a cuter animal? No, of course you haven’t. Even Bambi on ice nuzzling a baby hedgehog that’s wrapped in a cashmere blanket and sucking its thumb isn’t this cute.

2. Attract The Opposite Sex. Men: Get an opossum. Women like cute things. Women like things with personality. Women like quirky and interesting things. And now they’ve seen it, women like this opossum. I may be generalising here, but I can’t think of any woman who wouldn’t be charmed by a cross-eyed opossum.*

3. Attract The Opposite Sex***. Women: Get an opossum. I know that men are supposed to like cars and guns and things, and some of us do, but we aren’t immune to the charms of this opossum either, because it’s bloody amazing. No man is hard-hearted enough that he doesn’t find this opossum cute. Even Hitler would love it if he weren’t dead. If you’re looking to attract men, get this opossum. And some beer.

4. Ready-Made. Part of the allure of Heidi the cross-eyed opossum comes from the fact that she is cross-eyed. Once we’d seen her, my wife and I decided that – obviously – we wanted one. But our cat’s an only pet, and the introduction of a strabismal rival for our attention would probably be too much for our doddery old cat. So we decided to improve him. I stood to his left, my wife stood to his right, and we both called him repeatedly. Sadly, we were unable to cross his eyes. He merely moved his head rapidly from left to right between us for a minute before sighing and falling asleep. A cross-eyed opossum does not require a rigorous training regime to make it cute. It comes pre-cute.

5. Pedantry. Heidi the cross-eyed opossum, as you may have already spotted, is an opossum. Not a possum; that’s a different thing predominantly found in the Southern hemisphere. Nor is it related to the hippopossamus, which is a somewhat larger African variant which kills its prey by beguiling them with cuteness before sitting on them to death. This makes an opossum the ideal pet for pedants who can boundlessly amuse themselves by correcting people:

“Ah, cute possum”.

“Opossum”.

“I love your possum”.

“Opossum”.

“Your opossum is amazing”.

“Possum…bugger.”

6. Love. You’ll always feel loved by your cross-eyed opossum. Because when you’re conventionally-eyed pet is sulking, it won’t look at you. But when your cross-eyed opossum is sulking, it will appear to be looking at you, even when it’s looking at something else. Food probably, or your shoe.****

7. The Name. Steve Jobs says that putting a vowel in front of the names of things is cool, so it must be, and the opossum has a seemingly superfluous vowel at the front. This makes the name opossum cool and increases the product…er…creature’s desirability. Now the opossum was named many centuries ago, but if I didn’t know that I’d sense that it was some sort of Apple marketing ploy. But then I see the hand of Jobs in everything. Anyway, the name is cool.

*If you are a woman (and let’s face it, some of us are) and you don’t like the cross-eyed opossum please let us know via the comments section.**

**And a mob will arrive at your door within hours and burn you at the stake, you stone-hearted harridan.

***Or the same sex. The cross-eyed opossum attracts everything.

****All pets do weird things to your shoes; never leave them unattended.

Want to see more pictures? Of course you do.

January 12, 2011
7 Reasons The Discovery Of Kepler 10b Is A Complete Anti-Climax

If you haven’t heard the news today, let us break it to you gently. We’ve found a new planet. When I say ‘we’, I obviously don’t mean the 7 Reasons team – we are still busy trying to find all the lemon pips that fell down the back of the 7 Reasons sofa. So when I say ‘we’, I am obviously referring to those clever astronomer people over at NASA. Today they announced the discovery of Kepler 10b. The smallest planet outside our Solar System and one that is rocky like Earth. Awesome, huh? No, not really. Here’s why:

1. The Name. Kepler 10b? Now I know that the telescope they found this planet with is called Kepler, but that is hardly an excuse. It’s lazy naming. It lacks inspiration. To be honest, it sounds like a planet I wrote about in Ice Planet 2000 (my entry in the Nutley Primary School short story competition in circa 1990). You may have read it. I didn’t. Which explains the spelling mistakes. Anyway, I digress. Kepler 10b is lacklustre and hardly has the naming appeal of other confectionery delights such as Galaxy, Milky Way and Mars. Whoever works in the marketing department at NASA needs to think outside the box a bit more.

2. Distance. Yet another planet that is bloody light-years away. 560 of the gits to be precise. If I want to visit, I’m going to be gone for hundreds and hundreds of years. I’m not going to find a suitcase big enough. And that’s not even the worst of it. As a result of Kepler 10b’s discovery, I have discovered something of my own. The film, Flight Of The Navigator lied to me. In the film, David got to Phaleon (a planet also 560 light-years away) and back within eight years. I have just looked on Yahoo! Answers and people – sensible people with letters after their name – are saying this is bollocks. I can’t quite explain how let down I feel.

3. Heat. If the fact that Kepler 10b is so far away isn’t enough, there is also the fact that it’s bloody boiling over there. I lived in Perth for a few months (the Australian version, not the Scottish one) and my thighs were cramping up as soon as it reached 40 degrees Celsius. I dread to think how I would cope in temperatures exceeding 1,300C during the day. And I burn like McCoy’s Steak and Onion crisp.

4. No Life. Not that there would be much point in me going there anyway, because yet again we find a planet and yet again there is no sign of life on it. Which makes me wonder, are these astronomers really worth the money? If we just wrote the numbers 1-7 in every 7 Reasons post, you’d quickly get bored. It’s time NASA started delivering the goods. They have a year to find life or else we are going to diversify and form Two Observe Seven Space Exploratory Reasons. Or TOSSER for short.

5. Artists Impression. When someone places a shopping trolley in a bath and calls it ‘art’ I have a big problem. Not just because it’s not art – it’s theft and vandalism – but because the creator of the piece automatically becomes an ‘artist’. In my life – and I think it’s almost a given that one day it will be a template on how to live – an artist is someone who creates something that I can’t. And, as I will prove if you need, I am quite capable of stealing a trolley from Tesco and putting it in my girlfriend’s bath. Do you know what else I am good at? Drawing a circle. Especially if I have a glass to draw around. I can even colour it in. I am not an artist, yet the result would look exactly like the picture that heads this post. A picture that is an artists impression. Nauseating.

6. Excitement. Geoffrey Marcy, a pioneer for the hunt of exoplanets said, “This report will be marked as among the most profound scientific discoveries in human history.” Wow! Maybe this isn’t the anticlimax I thought it was. And then I watched this.

The video is narrated by Dr. Natalie Batalha, the Kepler Mission Co-Investigator. Someone, who if Geoffrey Marcy is to be believed, I would have expected to be very, very excited. If this really is one of the most profound scientific discoveries in human history I want to hear Dr. Natalie breathless and panting. This is, after all, what I am like when England take a wicket. But Dr. Natalie doesn’t sound breathless at all. She sounds bored. And then she starts talking about ‘mosaics of 42 detectors’. I do not care about mosaics. I do not. If this is amazing I want to hear screaming. And maybe an impromptu recital of ‘Star Spangled Banner’. Or something by ELO.

7. Earth. Kepler 10b is, “undoubtedly rocky like Earth”. I don’t understand why this is so incredible. I’ve seen Earth. Well, some of it at least. I want to see something new. And not one of those stupid gas planets either. I want a planet that is 100% water. Not ice, water. I want a planet that looks like a sausage. Or, even better, a planet that morphs into a sausage from its 100% water state. This, I have to say, would excite not just me, but the world and Dr. Natalie too. And that makes it worth looking for, doesn’t it?

January 11, 2011
7 Reasons The Gents Is Not The Place For Conversation

Given my reputation as someone who has a butler, this may come as something of a shock. I use public toilets. Though sometimes I wish I didn’t.

I follow the maze of corridors and eventually find the door to the Gents. It’s empty as I walk in. And silent. Until I hear…

1. “Alright?” I’m a bit startled by this. A voice has never said ‘alright’ to me before. Not in the toilets. I spin around but there is no one there. No one. Not a sign of life anywhere. This is new territory. And I don’t like it very much. Now, for 7 reasons that I can’t explain, I believe in God. And one day, if I’m good, I hope to meet him. What I never expected, was that I’d meet him on a Saturday afternoon in the pub toilet. I suspect that is probably the romantic in me. I’m not quite sure what to say back. With my hand hovering near my flies I suddenly feel very self-conscious. Part of me thinks, ‘Hello Sir’ would be a suitable reply, but then my legs seem to want me to curtsy. My thinking must have lasted quite a while because before I have the chance to reply I hear the voice again.

2. “Hello.” This time I follow the direction in which the voice has come. And I see a cubicle with a shut door. I immediately feel stupid. It wasn’t God. It was some bloke sitting on the loo. And all of a sudden this thought hits me very hard. There is a bloke; sitting on a loo; in a public toilet; trying to talk to me. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. I want to run but I haven’t even started my public facilities objective yet. I hurry to the nearest convenience, desperately hoping I don’t hear the voice again. But I do.

3. “How’s it going?” How’s it going? How’s it going?! What sort of a question is that?! Between you and me, I can tell you it was going very nicely thank you, but I’m not going to tell him that am I?! My heart is racing a bit now. I know exactly what is happening. All this sweet talking has one and only one aim. He wants to pick me up.

4. “Hey Dave, that is you isn’t it?” Ah. Well maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn’t want to pick me up. Maybe he just wants to pick Dave up. Relief. At least relief until he says, “Dave?” And now I have a new problem. Quite clearly I am not Dave. I don’t look like Dave, I don’t sound like Dave, I don’t have a bladder like Dave’s. I’m Jon. But of course the bloke doesn’t know this because he can’t see me and I haven’t said anything. So to him, I am definitely Dave. So what do I do? I can’t say, “No, sorry mate, I’m Jon”. That would just embarrass both of us. I suppose I could pretend to be Dave, but when you are standing in the toilets the last thing you really want to be doing is pretending you are another man. So my only other option is to stay silent. And so that is exactly what I do. And silence works. Silence tells the bloke that I am not Dave. Silence tells the bloke that this is now an uncomfortable situation for both of us and as such he should remain in his cubicle until I have left. But that’s not what happens. Because all of a sudden I hear the sound of…

5. Water Flushing. What the hell?! What is he doing?! Doesn’t he know I am still here?! I feel like shouting, “Stay in there man! Do not leave the cubicle.” I need to get out of here. Before he opens the door. But I have had tea. A lot of tea. And, a bit like one’s relationship with Pringles, once one’s popped one can’t stop. I am sorry, but I have to tell you this so you understand the gravity of the situation, I am going on forever. But the good news is that the man hasn’t left the cubicle yet. Maybe he is waiting. Maybe it’s all going to be okay. I make it to the sink to wash my hands. And then the…

6. Door Opens. And our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror. And for some reason neither of us can stop staring at each other. He looks uncomfortable. I feel uncomfortable. And we are still staring at each other. It’s only when I realise that I am scolding my hands under the hot tap that I can finally look away. He uses the sink next to me. I don’t dare look in the mirror. Instead I move quickly to the paper towels to dry my hands. Finally, the tension in the room is snapped, as someone enters the gents. I don’t care who it is, I don’t need to find out, I don’t need to look at them. I am just very grateful to them. Then they walk behind me and say…

7. “Alright Jon.” I spin around and say, “Hi!”. At exactly the same moment as the other bloke says, “Alright Dave.”

January 10, 2011