Author: 7 Reasons

7 Reasons Australians Shouldn’t Make Television

1. The Weather. It must be quite easy to present the weather in Australia, it’s always “nice” there, so you probably don’t have to be too bright to do it. That would explain this weatherman being outwitted by a pelican then.

2. Wipeout Australia. In Britain, we have Total Wipeout, a programme in which pudgy, potato-faced middle-managers from Droitwich lumber around a ridiculous assault course. Wipeout Australia uses the same course, except everything is harder and the machines go at about five times the speed. The people they send around don’t seem any leaner or sportier though, that wouldn’t be any fun.

3. Skippy. In Britain in the ’60s, men whistled at attractive young women in mini-skirts. In Australia in the ’60s, they whistled at kangaroos. Still, they seem quite happy.

4. Advert. Halfway through, so it’s time for a break. Would you like one of these? It’s undetectable, you know.

5. Soaps. The bush, mushrooms, a mysterious pig, a flaming hand – it has to be a soap opera. Obvious, really.

6. Marriage. This sort of thing never happened on Richard and Judy.

7. The dream. Okay, you knew it had to turn up somewhere didn’t you? That classic Neighbours dream sequence which came out of left-field and astonished the audience. No, not that one, this one. The accents are spot on, by the way.

Okay, it’s time for an admission. I was wrong. All of this stuff is awful, yet somehow brilliant. I’ve had so much fun putting this post together that I’ve become convinced that Australians should make more television – perhaps even all of it. As long as I don’t have to watch Paul Hogan again I’d be quite happy. I might even buy a hairpiece.

March 2, 2010
7 Reasons The Voice Of The Tube Is Annoying

1. Fake Apologies. We Are Being Held At A Red Signal. We Apologise For The Delay. We? There is no we. You are a recorded voice. A recorded voice belonging to a woman who got paid to say it. No one who gets paid to apologise really means it.

2. Use Of Language. Alight Here. Who alights in this day any age? In fact who alighted in that day and age? No one alights. They hop off. Or jump off. Or barge past. Or miss their stop.

3. Vagueness. Alight Here For Museums. Any museum is that? I can alight at South Kensington for the Vatican City Tractor Museum can I? No, I can’t. I’ll tell you what I can alight at South Kensington for. That’s the Science Museum and the Natural History Museum and the V&A Museum. Tourists love me.

4. Stating The Bloody Obvious. Mind The Gap. A complete waste of oxygen this. We see gap, we avoid gap. We are not stupid. We do not have signs near rivers saying, ‘Use The Bridge’ do we? And doesn’t mind mean look after anyway? Why is it our job to look after the gap? If you ask me the gap seems perfectly capable of looking after itself.

5. Lack Of Consistency. So when we pull into South Kensington, we are told we could alight for museums. Although the Japanese don’t know what the museums are, it is quite useful information. When we pull into Embankment, we are told we can alight for ferries. Again useful. So why is it that when we pull up to Parsons Green, all we hear is, ‘The next station is Parsons Green’? Where is the additional information? Why shouldn’t people be told to ‘Alight here for Peter’s Fish Bar and the rather plush co-op’?

6. Out Of Touch. The voice of the tube is monotone. How the hell is it possible to sound just as cheery on a hot summers day pulling into Wimbledon as it is in the depths of winter in West Ham? I don’t want an impossibly happy voice telling me to alight at West Ham when it’s -5 and there is four foot of snow on the ground. In fact I don’t want a voice telling me to alight at West Ham full stop. It’s miles away from home and means I have got on the wrong tube. Again.

7. Lies. Change For The Circle Line? On a Sunday? I don’t think so.

March 1, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Great Britain is Better Than the United States of America

Today’s guest post comes courtesy of globe-trotting, observation-jotting, ale-totting, train-riding man of both style and substance, Simon Best. The last guest post that he wrote for us, 7 Reasons the United States of America is Better Than Great Britain, was such a success that Simon has come back to wholly contradict himself. Based on this evidence, it may appear to those who don’t know Simon, that he could start a fight in an empty room. This is not true. Simon is a pacifist and, as such, would probably give himself a stiff talking-to and then reconcile with himself over a nice cup of tea – which would also be the ideal accompaniment to this.

1. Tea. Quintessentially British. We displayed our attitude to tea by naming a type of tea after a nobleman, the Americans showed theirs by chucking box-loads into grimy water – without stopping to boil it first or add milk once it had brewed. This attitude has continued and most of the tea you find in America is herbal, fruity, decaffeinated and an abomination. Tea was what started the American war of independence, I know it led to the loss of a large colony but quite frankly, if they were prepared to do that with tea rather than sit down and have a chat over a cuppa then we’re better off without them. Fast food, instant coffee, drive-through restaurants, shock and awe – all American inventions and all about speed. In Britain we stop for tea. It’s an occasion and one the world’s only superpower could learn from. I think that pretty much every world problem could be solved by sitting down and talking over tea and cucumber sandwiches. President Obama take note, now you’ve won the Nobel Peace Prize you need to start having afternoon tea – it is the next step to world peace.

2. Language. The use of different phrases; trash can, for example, or parking lot is understandable and forgivable – after all, different parts of Britain use different words and phrases to refer to the same thing. What is not acceptable is spelling favourite without a ‘u’ or pronouncing ’herb’ as ‘erb’ unless they are talking about an elderly gentleman in a Hawaiian shirt. American readers, look at the word again – there is a letter ‘h’ at the front. Pronounce it. It really isn’t that difficult.

3. Cricket. America has three huge sports, and a few people play ice hockey too. American football, baseball and basketball are skilful and exciting sports. They even play football (or soccer) in America, and I’m not going to say anymore about that in case they beat England in the World Cup. What Americans don’t do is play cricket. I thought I didn’t need to say more than this, but I was told I couldn’t just stop there, so here goes; cricket is more stylish, more testing, requires greater all round ability, patience and superior tactics worked out with military precision – all of which can be thrown out by the weather. The closest America comes is baseball, which is essentially cricket for people with ADHD.

4. Monarchy. Having written this about a month ago I could reasonably be accused of treason against Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith. This reason isn’t an attempt to make amends for that because I’m not talking about the current royal family who, quite frankly, I have little time for. I know that Americans love our royal family, they loved Princess Diana so much that 64% of their citizens wanted to crown her Queen of Rhode Island*. However, I am talking about Kings and Queens past: Canute who demonstrated he was only human by proving to his subjects that he couldn’t turn back the sea, Alfred who inspired the invention of the oven timer, Henry VIII who (allegedly) wrote Greensleeves and Victoria who was grandmother to most of Europe’s monarchs at the time of World War I. Americans would love to have that kind of heritage.

5. Trains. I know First Capital Connect are rubbish and Southeastern Trains couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery, but the British rail network is infinitely better than that in America. Yes we have delays, and being sat for half an hour in a siding outside Grantham is frustrating, but when travelling in Britain I’ve never been delayed by 17 hours – as I was when on a train from New Orleans to Los Angeles. Americans claim to have conquered the West with the railroad, but modern trains and railways in America are rubbish; there are huge cities like San Francisco, Phoenix and Boulder, Colorado with no station. That’s like there being no station in Glasgow, Bristol or Cardiff. Services are also ridiculously infrequent; there is one train a day between Chicago and Los Angeles. Imagine missing the 16:04 from Paddington to Exeter and being told that the next train is at 10:37 tomorrow morning. In Britain we have bad railways and complain about them, giving us something to talk about. In America they have bad railways and fly everywhere.

6. Religion. Like the worst dinner party guest, I am going to address one of the subjects you are supposed to avoid in polite company. In Britain, religion is a nice add-on to life, a way of people coming together to eat scones and have jumble sales with a bit of (usually insipid) singing thrown in. It is comfortable, like a favourite cardigan or a pint of ale. In America, religion is full-on – fire and brimstone – like being forced to wear a hair shirt in 90 degree heat (which if you are Amish you probably are). Religion is still just as important to British people as it is to Americans – we just handle it better. We don’t care which church our politicians go to, or even if they go at all. We, rightly, have little interest in their Sunday morning activity (providing it doesn’t involve cruising on Clapham common or snorting cocaine with prostitutes). In America, the thought that an elected official might not be a regular churchgoer would be scandalous and there are frequent and heated debates about whether to allow prayers in state schools, or if it is ok to have the ten commandments on tablets of stone in a courtroom. In America, the separation of church and state has happened in law; in Britain, it has happened in reality.

7. Breakfast. America has perfected the breakfast egg, which is available in a bewildering variety of styles, but we have something wonderful over here; something that transcends mere bread, a brilliant, culinary exemplification of form following function and the perfect accompaniment to an egg – the toast soldier. Simple, tasty, ingenious; the toast soldier is guaranteed to enliven any eggy breakfast – it also turns up in time for the start of the breakfast, not several years after it has begun.

*This figure isn’t statistically verifiable.

February 27, 2010
7 Reasons That English Pronunciation is Difficult.

So, you want to learn English as a second language? Good idea. We’re here to help, so welcome to the 7 Reasons Language School. We’ll start things off simply, with a bit of pronunciation.

Lesson One: Pronouncing words that end with “ough”.

1. Through (throo). Okay, this is the first word you’ve seen that ends o-u-g-h. Now you know that “ough” can be pronounced “oo”. Simple.

2. Rough (ruff). You may imagine, based on the prior example that “rough” is pronounced “roo”. It isn’t, it’s pronounced “ruff”. This means that o-u-g-h is more complicated than you initially supposed. You’re probably thinking that “ough” must be pronounced “oo” if preceded by th, and “uff” if not preceded with th. That’s wrong, but we like your reasoning. Don’t worry, you’ll soon get the hang of it.

3. Dough (doe). Nope, it’s not pronounced “duff”, or even “doo”; it’s pronounced “doe”. That’s a third pronunciation of “ough” to remember. We realise that there’s no apparent pattern and that this English lark may be harder than you supposed, but do carry on. If small children can manage this, then so can you.

4. Plough (plow). Did we mention there’s a fourth pronunciation? I know it may seem a trifle excessive, but the English are aware that their language is sometimes illogical and impenetrable, and are tolerant of people’s attempts to learn it. We’re not the sort of people who will spit out warm beer and roll around the floors of our country pubs guffawing if you order a ploomans lunch. Oh no.

5. Lough (lock). Why is this word pronounced “lock”, but spelled l-o-u-g-h? Why isn’t it spelled l-o-c-k? Er…good questions. We’re not sure. Perhaps the Scots hate you too.

6. Cough (coff). Yes, that is a sixth way to pronounce the same thing. You may be thinking that learning Klingon would make more sense than this. It probably would, but then you’d have to converse about dilithium crystals and the climate of the planet Qo’noS with a man named Terry.

7. Hiccough (hiccup). What happened to “oo”, “uff”, “o”, “ow”, “ock” and “off”? Well, it’s now pronounced “up”. What do you mean you give ough? Come back!

February 26, 2010
7 Reasons Tesco Is Dangerous

1. Trolleys. For the first time in 7 Reasons history, we have a three pronged reason. (Yes, that is the official name). One: Wobbly wheels – An absolute nightmare to control. One minute you are heading for Lady Grey tea bags the next you find yourself in frozen sausages. Two: Trolley rage – Why does everyone else push their trolley so slowly? And why do they always alter direction just as you are trying to squeeze past them? And why do they always leave their trolley right in front of the ginger nuts? You just want to slam someone through the cheese counter. Three: Not your trolley – You leave your trolley for a second to grab a box of Bran Flakes, then when you come back you put them in someone else’s trolley and walk off with it. And their baby.

2. Petrol. Petrol stations are dangerous at the best of times, but they are a just an accident waiting to happen when owned by Tesco. It is so easy to douse yourself in said liquid while imagining getting home and opening the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies you have just bought.

3. Hunger. Go to Tesco when you are hungry and before you know it you will end up with food you don’t need, a poor credit rating and dozens upon dozens of gym membership offers.

4. Acquaintances. Why is it you can’t go to Tesco without seeing someone you know? And why is it always someone you really don’t want to talk to? Or let look in your trolley? You have no choice but to creep around the store hiding behind boxes of Shreddies and buying enormous French loaves to cover your face.

5. Tills. You go to the same Tesco every week. You always see the same cashiers. You have absolutely no intention of talking to them when you are in the queue, but as soon as you are packing your bags you are talking to them as if you spent the previous night on the phone to each other. Why?

6. Stalkers. Tesco is a popular training ground for stalkers. They position themselves in the flower section, behind the lilies. Any victim who smiles at the lilies will automatically be smiling at the stalker. This is all the encouragement they need. Suddenly the stalker is off. Following their victim from fruit & veg to tinned tomatoes to their car. If you shop at Tesco make sure your list includes pepper spray.

7. Shelves. Because visual merchandising is more important to Tesco than health and safety, products are stacked in creative ways. Creativity has a habit of falling down and cracking you on the top of the head. So do tins of baked beans.

*It would be unfair of me to take full credit for this piece as someone else thought of 5 ½ reasons. But I will. I had to write it after all.

February 25, 2010
7 Reasons I Don’t Care About Cheryl Bloody Cole

1. Thug. The nation loves Cheryl Cole, so we are told. Do we? I don’t. I’m quite sure that Sophie Amogbokpa doesn’t – that’s the toilet attendant and part-time law student that Cheryl Cole was convicted of assaulting in a nightclub toilet in 2003. The judge at the trial wasn’t particularly taken with her either, criticizing her for having “…showed no remorse whatsoever.” That’s at least three people who don’t love Cheryl Cole. I’m pretty sure my cat doesn’t like her either.

2. Heartbreak. We’ve spent the last two weeks reading about how heartbroken Cheryl Cole is over her husband’s dalliances and now newspapers are reporting that she has a new boyfriend. That’s not heartbreak, it’s not even heartslightlybent or heartatinyweenybitchipped. We can’t blame her for this though, we’ve got an insatiable media hungry for any new angle on this story – it’s selling a lot of newspapers, after all. Poor Cheryl is obviously being exploited by them. After all, if she knew that her every move was being scrutinized by the media, would she entertain a man in her hotel room until 4am? Of course not, unless she wanted to wring yet more publicity out of the story…oh, silly me.

3. America. After the Ashley Cole phone-text-photo story broke earlier this month, Cheryl Cole went off to America to spend some time away from the media spotlight, choosing as her destination the quiet, secluded backwater of Los Angeles. Purely coincidentally, this is where most US television executives are based. Did you know that Cheryl is being considered as a judge on the American X Factor, which Simon Cowell will be launching there next year? How propitious that she should find herself in a town full of television executives – who may not have heard of her previously – at the very moment she has an enormous press-pack following her every move.

4. Attractiveness. Another popular myth about Cheryl Cole is that everyone finds her attractive. This is not true, I don’t. I find her flawless face, small, perky nose and large, almond-shaped eyes a bit weird to be honest. She has the perfect, symmetrical, neotenous visage of a Disney character. Is this really something grown-ups find attractive? Not me. I don’t fancy Cheryl Cole and I don’t fancy Pocahontas. Nor do I lust after The Little Mermaid.

5. Ashley. Whatever you think of Ashley Cole and the way he conducts himself, it’s hard to fault him over the way he’s conducted himself since the story broke. He’s kept quiet about it. He’s just shut up and got on with trying to recover from his ankle injury in time for the World Cup. I’ll level with you, I can’t stand Ashley Cole. I think that the revelations that emerged a couple of years ago – that he cheated on his wife and paused during sex with a girl he’d met at a nightclub, so he could throw up on her bedroom floor, before resuming sex – show an appalling lack of respect for his wife, his marriage, women in general, and carpets. He is obviously a foul and abhorrent rotter. So when Ashley Cole is the one setting the example of how to behave decorously in the face of the media onslaught over the break-up, something is seriously wrong.

6. Cynicism. You can call me cynical but…actually, forget the but, you can call me cynical – I can live with that. I find the whole media obsession with the Coles a bore, and I find Cheryl’s manipulation of that interest exploitative and wholly self-serving. I may have a very cynical view of the whole thing, but it’s nothing when compared to the cynicism with which she is wringing every last bit of sympathy and publicity from the coverage.

7. Does anyone else care? Okay, I have just spent a good bit of time thinking about it, and a fair amount of time writing about it, but I don’t actually care about Cheryl Cole or Ashley Cole (except during England matches), I’m just annoyed by all of the media coverage that their break-up is generating. I’m sure that there are far more important events happening in the world than the break-up of a thug who can’t sing and a footballer who can’t keep his trousers on, I just don’t know what they are because the news agenda is dominated by this non-story. Perhaps something is happening in Haiti, the Falklands, Madeira, parliament, Afghanistan or Northern Ireland. Who knows?

Do you care about Cheryl and Ashley Cole’s break-up? If so, please tell me why via the comments section, as I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something I’m missing.

February 24, 2010
7 Reasons The Cassette Is Better Than The CD

1. CD Case Design Flaw: Part A. Whichever genius designed the CD case was/is not a genius. A genius would not have made the breadth of the case so bloody tiny that the name of the artist/album is impossible to see unless you have your nose pressed up against it. The breadth of the cassette case was ideal. Perfectly readable from a sensible distance and far less risk of adding a plastic splinter to your face.

2. CD Case Design Flaw: Part B. One for the environmentalists among you. The CD case uses three parts. The cassette case uses two. It isn’t difficult to work out where Global Warming came from is it?

3. Double-sided. When you bought an album on tape, you were in fact getting two mini albums. And A-side and a B-side. Musicians actually took this into account when putting the track listing together. And it made a huge difference. Oasis’ Definitely Maybe and What’s The Story (Morning Glory?) were both released on tape. Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants was not. Coincidence?

4. Sturdiness. A cassette is to a hammer what a HobNob is a to a cup of tea. The CD is a rich tea finger. Pathetic.

5. Write Protection Override. In the good old days when cassettes appeared on every shelf in Our Price, you could go to bed on a Sunday night happy in the knowledge that you wouldn’t ever have to set foot in that store. That is because you’d just used a bit of masking tape on your father’s copy of Born In The USA and recorded that week’s Top 20 over it.

6. Manual Rewind. Sticking your little finger into a cassette and giving it a turn one way or the other made you feel in control of your music collection. Sticking your little finger through the middle of a CD and spinning it makes you look like a prick. And you’ll get a knuckle cut.

7. Labeling. It was so easy to write on a cassette. Usually it came with specially designed labels anyway. All you had to do was get out the biro. With a CD though, you need a special pen. Does a special pen come with a blank CD? Does it hell. You have to go and find a branch of bloody Hobby Craft. And of course that is miles away. On an industrial estate. Next to a Wickes and Charlies Car Wash and a burger van.

February 23, 2010
7 Reasons You Shouldn’t go to the Doctor’s

1. Hand-wash. Little plastic dispensers of antiseptic hand-wash: They’re inside the main entrance, they’re in the reception area, they’re in the waiting room, they’re in the doctor’s office, they’re everywhere! They outnumber patients by about 40-1; they outnumber patients’ hands by about 20.5-1 (there was a one-armed man). Why could they possibly need so many? It will bother you.

2. Sick people. There are sick people at the doctor’s surgery, it’s full of them: Coughing, retching, groaning, wailing, with blotches, pustules, buboes and weeping sores; it’s more like Hell’s waiting room than Dr Butterworth’s. If I ever write a historical novel about the Black Death in medieval Europe I’ll visit the doctor’s for inspiration – and just hope I live long enough to complete it.

3. Light. The soulless, ceaseless hum of the fluorescent strip-lights is the soundtrack to your stay in the waiting room. Worse still, their glow bathes everything and everyone in an unnatural light, giving the room’s occupants a grey, bleached-out pallor that makes them appear unwell, even if they’re not.

4. Magazines. Due to the Swine Flu scare they no longer have magazines in my local surgery; no Country Life, no Woman’s Weekly – in fact, nothing to read at all. Presumably they think our hands would be too slick from the hand-wash to leaf through the pages. Fortunately, on my last visit to the doctor, I had a copy of Vanity Fair with me, so I pulled that out of my bag and began to read. My fellow patients – envious, I assume – saw my magazine and started moving toward it. They rose slowly from their seats and shuffled gradually forward, eventually forming a groaning, coughing semi-circle around me. With their fluorescent strip-light pallor, obvious wounds and missing limb they resembled the un-dead. Fortunately, the doctor called me in before they started to feast on my brains.*

5. Manliness. Convention has it that real men don’t visit the doctor. This is nonsense. If he has misplaced a limb, his elbow has unaccountably turned purple, or his urine is pure Bovril, a man should visit the doctor. In all other cases, he should soldier on.

6. Discouragement. They don’t want you to see you. Why would they? They might catch something dreadful or you might try to show them your hemorrhoids. If they really wanted to see you they would open outside of office hours and they’d give you an appointment less than a week into the future. They might also consent to visit you at home on occasions other than your imminent death. They do these things to discourage you from seeking medical advice. If you don’t go to see the doctor, their whole system runs more smoothly. And that’s the way they like it.

7. Feelings. Doctor’s surgeries aren’t just places to treat your physical ailments, they’re places that are concerned with your general wellbeing too. These days, they seem just as concerned with your emotional wellbeing as they are with your physical health. This isn’t necessarily a good thing:

Bond strode into the uncluttered, homely office. After some light conversation, the G.P. asked how he felt about his condition.

“Do you expect me to talk, Dr Blofeld?”

“No Mr Bond, I expect you to cry”

break

No one wants that, who knows where it may lead?

break

*Did I mention that I had a bit of a temperature?

February 22, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Live In Lagos

Elbowing us out of the way and lounging on our sofa this week is photographer and all round nice gal, Sarah Ansell. Having lived and worked in Lagos between 1995-98 who better to tell us why to live there? Well, maybe someone who lives there right now, but we don’t know any of those. Obviously these reasons are based on her experiences of life there a few years ago and so they may not be an accurate reflection of life there in 2010. But no one is really bothered about that are they? You can view Sarah’s showcase of work over at SarahCanterbury.com. It is well worth the visit.

1. A greater tolerance of the M25. Once you’ve cleared the joy that is Murtala Mohammed International Airport, the first thing that strikes you about Lagos is the driving. And I use that word in its very loosest sense. Go-Slows (their wonderful name for traffic jams) are the norm and as for adhering to something akin to a Highway Code, pah! No such thing! It’s each man (or in my case, woman) for him(her)self. Don’t worry about the direction the traffic is meant to be facing – see a space, take it! Add to this all sorts of delights: habitual fuel shortages; attempting to drive through black fumes churned out by ancient vehicles liable to shed exhaust pipes at any moment (MOTs? Hahaha!); avoiding rust heaps abandoned at the side of the road; passengers leaping on and off buses; road sellers trying to talk you in to that must-have plastic toilet seat purchase; beggars on skateboards; and the occasional dead body (sadly I kid you not). As if this wasn’t enough, all is accompanied by the din of a thousand car horns. The M25 is a doddle after this.

2. Communing with nature. For lovers of wildlife, Lagos is a quite marvellous place to get up close and personal with creatures in a manner you could only dream of back home in Britain. There’s nothing quite like opening your pencil drawer at work and seeing a frantic scurrying of cockroaches to sharpen your hand-eye coordination and speed up those reflexes. Ditto the reaction time on seeing a rat run across your sitting room to hide behind the bookcase when you’re home alone at 10.30 on a Friday night. Or any night for that matter. Also, where else could you have a real live gecko as a wall ornament in your dining room? Lagos is also an excellent place in which to overcome silly phobias – no longer do I run shrieking from teeny tiny spiders (or even the big ones), but embrace them with equanimity. Well, not literally embrace them or they would get squashed and I’d suffer from spider murdering guilt. I should pay homage here, too, to the humble mosquito. Ah, the fun of being awakened from your slumbers by that distinctive whiny noise and having to go into full on Rambo attack mode with a rolled-up newspaper while you’re still half asleep. That’s assuming, of course, that you can locate the bugger.

3. An appreciation of the finer things in life. Baths with clear water in which you are not perched on grains of brown rust doubling as a makeshift mat. Electricity that works (for electricity substitute telephones, lifts, pretty much anything really) and the knowledge that the power isn’t suddenly going to cut out just as Nasser Hussain faces Curtley Ambrose with 2 runs needed off the last ball. PAH! Hairdressers: I never quite summoned up the courage to have my hair cut there, so trips back to the UK every 6 months always began with a hat wearing trip to the hairdressers – a maximum of 30 minutes after arriving home. I have the fondest memories of the subsequent sheer joy of sporting a “do” for the next six weeks that didn’t make me resemble Hair Bear (Google the Hair Bear Bunch if you’re too young to remember him!). Croquet played on the lawn during a weekend trip to the High Commissioner’s residence in Ibadan. I felt very posh. And mushrooms. Oh how I missed mushrooms.

4. The thrill of living on the edge. I appreciate that living on the edge is not exclusive to Lagos, but it is the only place I’ve lived where the excitement of a Friday night trip downtown included being caught up inadvertently in an exhilarating car chase complete with gunfire. Mercifully I wasn’t driving! A G&T in The Red Lion has always seemed a little tame in comparison since. Then there’s living in a compound surrounded by razor wire & patrolled by gate guards; negotiating army & police roadblocks in bulletproof glassed cars (“have you got something for my Easter?”); being bussed to work with an armed policeman and accompanying security vehicle because the office was in a dodgy part of town; and the very real danger of a potential car-jack. All a little removed from nipping out to Sainbury’s on a Tuesday afternoon in February. Just call me Lara Croft!

5. The ability to reinvent yourself. Fed up with your mundane existence? Then change it! You can be whoever you want to be. Just pop along to any street corner and pick yourself a fresh identity, complete with sparkly new passport & a full set of supporting documents. You’ll also be well placed to learn from the finest scammers in the world.

6. A reminder that there’s always someone worse off than you. Lagosians are truly inspiring and I do mean that sincerely – their faith & resilience in the face of adversity is astonishing. Plus they have lots of fab names like Patience, Charity & Blessing and give uplifting names to their businesses. Buying your tin of beans in Goodness & Mercy Enterprises or God’s Favour Enterprises seems so much more edifying than in a store with a name like Lidl (not that I have anything against names like Lidl – I am just using artistic license, you understand). Also, having never lived somewhere before where it took no less than 5 men to drill a hole, I appreciate their inventiveness when it comes to job creation.

7. The lack of snow. It has to be said that it’s highly unlikely you will be bothered by a preponderance of snow in Lagos. That’s a good enough reason all by itself to live there. Though it can get a bit wet at times.

February 20, 2010
7 Reasons MPs Should Travel First Class

1. The Importance Of Being Important. Most people like feeling important. It gives them an enormous sense of wellbeing. (Thanks to Damon Albarn for that insight). When you feel important, you feel proud. When you feel proud you take pride in what you do. Generally it means you do something well for once. Just think, if we got 75% of all MPs in first class, Great Britain would be 75% better. Believe it.

2. Forget Forgetfulness. Working in first class means you have more space. It means you don’t feel overcrowded or have the sensation that everyone is looking over your shoulder. In this relaxed state of mind you are unlikely to be flustered when you realise you have already pulled into the station. In turn it means you are unlikely to leave important documents on the train. Like the names, addresses and shoe sizes of all your friendly neighbourhood swinging couples.

3. The Art Of Complaining. These days the British like complaining. It is a fairly new phenomenon. Usually such pathetic behaviour was left to the French, while those in this country sucked it up and displayed their stiff upper lip. But for one reason or another those days are fast dissipating and now there is nothing a Brit likes more than a good old moan. Particularly if it is about an MP. Letting MPs travel first class gives us stuff to talk about in the pub, listen to on the radio, watch on Question Time and write about on websites.

4. The Art Of Moaning. MPs, being British themselves, also like to moan. Moaning about having to pay back expenses or moaning about the lack of fresh water crabs in their moat or moaning about Gordon Brown moaning about David Cameron moaning about Labour moaning about the Conservatives. Quite frankly I am bored of it. The Winter Olympics are on and all I can think about is how cool it would be to put Harriet Harman in a bobsleigh. If we force MPs to travel standard class we will hear moaning about not having the correct environment to work in. I don’t want to hear that. It reeks of an excuse. Stick them in first class and they no longer have an excuse for doing a sub-standard job.

5. News Of The Country. Newspapers are free in first class. Perhaps this will encourage one or two of them to read one and find out what is actually happening in this country. Then perhaps one of the two would like to do something about it instead of just talking about it.

6. Strangers On A Train. If the MPs are up at the front of the train, it means there is an empty seat in front of you. Who knows who might join you on your trip to Reading. Maybe a splendidly pretty young thing who doesn’t use text speak? Or maybe a female Canadian Mountie? Or maybe both? Not that either of us would even think about looking at them. We’d be far more interested in cows rushing by our window.

7. Fight Club. No MPs with all us ‘different type of people’ down in carriage D, means it will remain the quiet carriage. That has to be a good thing. For First Great Western.

February 19, 2010