Oranges. They’re a really, really poor fruit. Here’s a film which explains why.
7 Reasons That Oranges are Rubbish
Category: Posts
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7 Reasons To Pretend You’ve Been Hypnotised
Now, I’m no expert on hypnosis. I have never been hypnotised. Or at least I don’t think I have. Like I say, I’m no expert so how would I know? But anyway, as I was saying, I have never knowingly been hypnotised. But I have always liked the idea of pretending to have been. Just to, you know, amuse myself. Oh, and because it’s a very useful skill to possess.
1. Chores. It’s a quite brilliant way of getting out of doing them. Touch the vacuum cleaner and pretend to be riding a horse; start the washing up and pretend to be a dolphin who loves soap suds; begin dusting the shelves and pretend you’re a rock climber. You’ll probably wreck the house in the process, but at least you won’t be asked to clean ever again.
2. Paying. At the sound of the word ‘money’, you’re an alien. Obviously. This would work brilliantly in Tesco; on the bus; if your partner mentioned she was going shopping. Expand your eyes, make fish lips and move your head in circular motions. The results will be staggering. The cashier will pay out of their own pocket just to get rid of you, the bus driver will run away and leave you to drive to a destination of your choice and your wife will charge out of the house in a huff. Leaving you to watch Sky Sports all day. Aces!
3. Answers. I’m a man. As a result, I don’t like being asked questions. Not because I don’t like the questioner or indeed the question, but, more often than not, because I don’t like my answer. It’s generally something unimaginative. Or incriminating. Or both. Until now, I hadn’t found a solution. So do check back next week for, 7 Reasons I Shouldn’t Have Answered Every Question By Pretending I Was A Dog.
4. MI5/MI6. I suspect this reason will only apply to a select few of our readers, but I’m sure everyone else will forgive us while we do our duty for Britain. So members of our secret services, just imagine, heaven forbid, that some henchman of an evil empire (including France) has captured you. They’re going to want answers. And you are probably not going to want to give them. If you do the world might explode. Or, even worse, you might get a slap. So what to do? Well, pretending you like a bit of S&M everytime the word ‘torture’ is mentioned should do the trick. Though what trick it is remains to be seen.
5. Charity Workers. I am sure they mean well, or at least one of them does, but they’re just very, very annoying. When I lived in Fulham, walking to the tube station was like negotiating the guantlet on Gladiators. It’s not so much that I didn’t want to adopt a leopard or a granny, it’s more that…okay, I just didn’t want to adopt a leopard or a granny. As a result I used to shout out, ‘Sorry!’ and charge on past. But what if you’re not like me? What if you are an unsuspecting individual and have a habit of walking slowly? You’ll be pounced on. I’m sorry, but you will. Time to pretend to by hypnotised. You could either go one of two ways here. As soon as you see the clipboard you could pretend to be a granny who loves riding leopards – this would scare and confuse in equal measure – or you could pretend that you repeat every question you’re asked. They’ll soon get bored and move out of Fulham altogether.*
6. Drink. An inevitable part of indulging in alcoholic beverages, is that one day you will drink a bit too much. Unless you’re my mum. But you’re not, so listen up. I would never condone it, but being drunk is good fun. Unless you realise you are drunk. As soon as you realise you are drunk you realise you are going to be ill the next day. And as soon as you realise you are going to be ill the next day, you stop enjoying yourself. This is when you need to pretend that you are not drunk, but, in fact, in a wonderful state of hypnosis. You’ll probably believe yourself because you’re drunk. The great news is – apart from maybe finding lampposts strangely attractive – there are no side-effects from hypnosis. This means not being ill the next day. Obviously you will be ill the next day. Even more ill than if you’d stopped enjoying yourself when you realised you were drunk. But at least you won’t have stopped enjoying yourself. And that has to count for something doesn’t it?
7. Party Trick. Parties can be awkward. Especially the kind where one git decides that you should all demonstrate a party trick. 99% of the population don’t have party tricks. Unfortunately, the 1% that do, all seem to be at the party. This is when you need to blag it. And you blag it by hypnotising yourself. Or pretending to. Swing your finger back in front of your eyes and chant something along the lines of, “You are falling into a deep sleep. When I click my fingers you will stand on your head everytime you hear the word ‘superfluous’.” Then you click your fingers. If you are lucky you will be at a party where no one can pronounce ‘superfluous’ and even if they can, you know how to stand on your head. If you don’t, well you’ll probably concuss yourself anyway. And that means sitting in the corner being looked after.
*When you’ve done this please let me know. I left a sock behind when I moved.
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7 Reasons That The Westbourne Bank Protest Was Stupid
In Britain, it’s often said that we’re not very good at protesting, and we’re always compared unfavourably with the French in that regard. But now, public protest in the UK has reached an all-time low because, last weekend, several men in Dorset bricked up the door of their local bank in what they claimed was a, “…protest against the reluctance of banks to lend money to small firms”. Here are seven reasons that their protest was stupid.
1. They Went To The Wrong Bank. The protesters wanted to brick up the door of the Westbourne branch of Natwest Bank because it had refused the group’s ringleader, Cameron Hope, a business loan. But, when they arrived at the Natwest, the police were nearby, so the group decided to brick up the door of a different bank instead. Barclays. Now, if I do something that irritates my wife involving…ooh…I don’t know…umm…a bicycle, for example, and I’m not there when she finds out about it – or I’m standing near the police – I wouldn’t expect her to go and yell at a different man. Because that would be crazy. And irrational. And yes, it would be much better if she did that, but that’s not the point. Bricking up the door of a bank that they didn’t have a legitimate grievance with is just mad. And counter-productive.
2. Prudence. Okay, so the bank turned down Cameron Hope’s loan application. What should he do? Scrimp and save, perhaps. Look at alternate ways of raising capital, or go to a different bank. I’m not a businessman, but I wouldn’t choose to demonstrate my financial acumen and creditworthiness to another bank by frittering my money away on costly building materials and then use them to construct a monument to my own profligacy on their doorstep. Because that’s not going to help. And it’s a lot of effort. He could have achieved the same effect by setting fire to twenty pound notes in front of the bank manager instead. Far less trouble.
3. Put Simply. The more money the bank has, the more they’ll lend, making it more likely that you’ll get a loan. Conversely: The less money the bank has, the less they’ll lend, making it less likely that you’ll get a loan. So if you brick the door of the bank up, customers can’t take their money to the bank, and then the bank can’t lend it to you. I realise that this is a highly simplistic, microeconomic description of banking, but I’m addressing it thus, to the protesters because of…
4. The Quote. The quote tells us that the protesters don’t understand how banking works at all, because one of the group stated to journalists, “You go into a bank and there’s nothing there, the bank’s open but the safe is shut.” This is his summary of his grievance with the banking system; and it doesn’t really bear much scrutiny. Because of course there’s nothing there. What does this man expect to find in a bank? Displays of money? Shelf upon shelf of alluringly-arrayed notes and enticing floor-displays brimming over with a boundless abundance of shimmering coins? And of course the safe is shut. It’s a safe. That’s its job. If the bloody things weren’t meant to be shut they’d be called something different. They’d be called unsafes. Or vulnerables.
5. Helping The Bank. The protesters bricked up the door of the bank on a Sunday: A day when all banks are closed. So this had no effect on the bank’s ability to trade. In fact, one of the major obsessions and expenses of any bank is security, and by bricking up the door – and thereby making it more difficult for robbers to enter the premises – the protesters actually helped the bank. Not to mention that their protest also brought the police along to stand outside in hi-vis jackets, which probably made the bank as safe as it’s ever been. And all at no extra cost to the bank. What are the protesters going to do next, try to bring down the Conservative party by voting for them?
6. Consequences. Though the protest didn’t have any serious consequences, it could well have done. The protesters could have endangered the nation’s economy. By bricking up the door of the bank, they made it likely that employees would have to enter and exit the premises via the windows. And, as history teaches us, bankers jumping out of windows is one of the worst economic indicators that there is. Worse even than Alistair Darling’s eyebrows. It’s the sort of thing that, if the media get hold of the footage, can shatter fragile economic confidence.
7. Achievement. As a protest against banking it doesn’t appear to have accomplished anything. I was in the centre of a city yesterday, and banking appeared to be going on pretty much unhindered by the protest. People in polyester uniforms were sitting around near potted plants in waist-high partitioned areas looking depressed, as usual. The cash machine outside was covered in the remnants of a McDonald’s milkshake, as usual. I wanted to thump over 90% of the people in the queue, as usual; even myself. So the protest has had no discernible effect on banking. Obviously, the protest brought an awful lot of free publicity for the property developer behind it, but that wasn’t the point. Because this was a protest against banking, right? And not some sort of tawdry self-serving publicity stunt?
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7 Reasons It Must Be Tough Being A Shark
I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been a shark. I guess it’s just something I’ve never found the time to do. Thankfully, for 7 Reasons purposes, it doesn’t stop me imagining what it must be like. So that is what I’ve done for the last forty-five minutes. I have imagined what it would be like being a shark. And after much deliberation – and the gruesome devouring of two pirates – I have decided it must be tough. Here’s why.
1. Reputation. They have a bad name do sharks. And by that I don’t mean names like Jason or Cliff, which are abominations of names, I just mean their reputations proceed them. And it’s not a good one. Jaws writer Peter Benchley and that film guy, Steven Spielberg, have a lot to answer for. They have made sharks appear to us as killers. Which actually only applies to about four of the 440 species of shark. I imagine it must feel as I would if someone suggested there was a bit of the French about me.
2. Sleep. I am 27 years-old. I expect no applause for this, but if you did clap your hands, many thanks. In my 27 years, I believe I have sleep-walked only once. And even then it wasn’t a very exciting sleep-walk, I just went looking for the bathroom in the lounge.* I could not imagine doing that every night though. Which is what a shark has to do. Apart from it swims instead of walking. And it rarely ends up in my lounge. No, I couldn’t swim all night. Whilst asleep. A shark has to though. Otherwise it’ll sink. And drown. And die.
3. Hammerhead Shark. Whether this species evolved after a normal-looking sleeping shark swam straight into the underside of a ship, is anyone’s guess, but it’s an ugly looking thing. As a teenager I was spotty, spectacled and slimy haired, but even then I looked better than a Hammerhead. Just. Poor git.
4. Recession. Yes, the economic downturn has had a negative effect on sharks. There just aren’t as many people going to the beach these days. Less people = less food.
5. Skills. Recent research (according to wikipedia) indicates that sharks actually posses powerful problem solving skills and excellent social abilities. Well what the bloody hell is the use in that if you’re a shark? You can’t get your fins around a sudoku puzzle book or log into facebook can you? It’s a bit like me having the ability to beat up a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Pointless.
6. Lemons. The 7 Reasons team know a lot about lemons. At least 50% of the team has been sharing their house with them for the past few weeks and the other 50% has been forming something of an irrational fear of them as a result. It’s probably a Yin-Yang thing.** What neither of us expected was that Lemon also lends it’s name to a shark. We were quite surprised. Which is probably a very different reaction to the shark’s. “What sort of shark am I father? A Great White? A Tiger? A Hammerhead? A Mako? A Bull?”.”No son, you’re a lemon.”
7. Australians. I am not sure if you would have expected anything else, but as Australians are incapable of doing anything properly (losing to England, beating Scotland, admiring Her Majesty The Queen, marmite), they also do fish and chips wrong. Especially in Victoria. In Victoria, they don’t offer you cod or plaice or haddock, oh no, their delicacy is shark and chips. Seriously. Imagine being a shark and knowing that one day you’re going to end up next to a portion of fried potatoes. You’d be gutted.
*As I expect you are wondering what happened, I will tell you. I didn’t find it.
**You may decide who is Yin. Yang will follow.
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7 Reasons It’s Not My Fault I Thought He Was A Woman
Today is World Tourism Day and as I couldn’t think of one single reason as to why we should celebrate it, I decided to write about men who I once thought were women instead. So here are 7 men, who to me, were once women. Enjoy.
Josephine Rebecca Rachel Tolkien 1. J.R.R.Tolkien. I have absolutely no idea why I thought Tolkien was a woman. Maybe it was the slightly effeminate font on my copy of The Fellowship Of The Ring or maybe it was something in the tone of voice on the first page. (I don’t think I actually got to page two). Either way, for a good few months I thought John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was in fact Josephine Rebecca Rachel Tolkien. Sorry about that John.
2. Leslie Neilsen. Oh come on. Anyone could make this mistake. Admittedly it may have taken them slightly less than five viewings of Naked Gun to realise that the person who they initially thought was Leslie Nielsen was actually Priscilla Presley, but hey, we all make mistakes.
3. John Denver. How the hell did I think John Denver was a woman? Probably because I thought he was called Joan Denver.
4. Neil Sedaka. I didn’t know the name at the time, I had just heard the song. Laughter In The Rain probably. And, well, he just sounds like a girl doesn’t he?
5. Lily Savage. Yes, seriously. For a good ten minutes, I actually thought Paul O’Grady’s alter-ego – the one who looked like a man and spoke like a man, but wore a dress, heels and wig – was a woman. I was naive. I didn’t know cross-dressers – or as I prefer to call them, perverts – existed. I clearly lived a sheltered childhood. In a house where Lily Savage was on the TV.
6. Ashley Smith. If this name is not familiar to you, then good. One day, in circa 1996, my friend Tom came into school and told a select group of us that he had kissed someone called Ashley the night before. Being the lads we were we ‘high-fived’ and congratulated him on his conquest. As a spotty 13 year-old at the time, I was outwardly happy for him. Inside though, I was full of jealousy. I had never kissed a girl – not properly anyway. I wanted a go. (Frustratingly, I would have to wait another four years for that particular delight to occur. And even then, I am not entirely sure she knew much about it). But anyway, I digress. We were very happy for Tom and he seemed very happy for himself. Then Tom went ten-pin bowling. And he invited a few of his friends along too. Including me. And Ashley. And that was when I realised Tom was gay.
7. The Stylistics. Okay, so this is more a group, than a singular person, but the theme still remains. I still thought they were women. And you can’t blame me. I’ve tried many an implement in many a painful place to try and get my voice that high. Cricket bats, clothes pegs, garden rakes, soldering irons (not on purpose), next door’s cat. You name it, I’ve tried it. But to no avail. I just can’t sound like The Stylistics.
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7 Reasons foursquare And I Are Over
If you have been a reader of 7 Reasons for a while now, you may remember that at the beginning of August, I (that’s me, Jon) decided to sign up to the new social media kid on the block that is foursquare. It didn’t start too well and as you may recall I predicted foursquare and I were going to have a tricky relationship. Now, I’m sure you’ve been wondering how on earth we are getting on. Well, seven weeks on, we catch up with myself and foursquare to find out.
1. Neglect. To be fair, there has been little contact or indeed effort from either party. I haven’t logged into my foursquare account once since I joined and foursquare hasn’t once bothered emailing me to ask why I have not logged into my account since I joined. Evidently we both have better things to do with our time. I certainly do. Playing with my hair etc.
2. Affair. We both had one. In fact, for the past seven weeks I have been having regular threesomes with twitter and facebook. They seem to like it and I feel strangely clean about the whole thing, so it’s win win. You may have a different point of view, but before you judge me and accuse me of being dirty, may I remind you that foursquare has three million users plugged into her. Potentially all at the same time.
3. Financial Resentment. It’s not that fact that I mind foursquare being worth $80 million – which on latest calculations is just quite a way over $79 million more than I am – it’s the fact that they flaunt it. ‘Woohoo!’ they shout. ‘Come and invest in me!’ There is just no need for it. I don’t go running up and down the street shouting, ‘Woohoo! Come and pay off my student loan!’ do I? No, I don’t. I’d get some very funny looks from some very funny looking cats.
4. Bullying. This one is on me. I put the foursquare app into my iPhone social media folder – yes, I have one of those because I am a hipster – and then I teased it. By this I don’t mean I played hide and seek with it – although I suppose I did in a way everytime I put my phone in my pocket – but I kept hovering my finger over it and then chose twitter or facebook instead. Did I feel bad? Not really. The foursquare icon never said, ‘Touch me baby’. Aesthetically speaking.*
5. Nagging. Not by me. But by foursquare. It forever wanted to know where I was. ‘What are you doing? Where are you doing it? Why are you doing it? How are you doing it? Oooh, I wouldn’t have done it like that’. Just shut up and go away. This is my life and I will do whatever I like, where I like it, for seven of my own reasons, in a manner I feel happy with. Unless my girlfriend or my mum tell me otherwise.
6. Sexual Incompatibility. I won’t go into this too much, but I was rubbish. To be honest, my heart wasn’t in it. And, if it was, I’d have been doing it very, very wrong indeed. I know that much.
7. Realisation. Mark Zuckerburg. You know the guy, he created that facebook thing. Last week his company opened up the world of ‘places’ for all facebook users. So now we can tell all of our ‘friends’ just where we are. As a result I now know when friend A is at work, when friend B is on the platform at a certain train station and when friend C is on the toilet. Quite frankly, this is all too much information. And it is exactly the kind of thing foursquare specializes in. As disappointing as this will sound, the truth is, I really don’t care where you are or what you’re doing – unless you owe me a lot of money. And to be honest, I only have time not to care once. Consequently I have decided not to care via the medium of facebook and thus shall be shutting my foursquare account down with immediate effect.
*My finest oxymoron yet.
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7 Reasons to Leave Your Car at Home
It’s World Car-Free Day today. And to celebrate, here are seven reasons to leave your car at home.
1. It’s Healthier. Rather than driving to work, and getting stressed and aggravated at the wheel of a car on the way, you can cycle instead. It’s much better for you, and you won’t just be sitting there, impotently experiencing road rage, so you’ll feel really good and be a lot healthier as a result. Well, until you get run over by a minicab and offered a fight by a disproportionately cross man in a white pick-up truck, that is. But that doesn’t happen every day. Some days it’s a blue one.
2. There Are Buses Available. In order to reduce the traffic on the road and free it up to make more room for areas that are coned-off for no apparent reason, you can take the bus to work. Because it’s always fun to ride in a vehicle in which the driver treats the accelerator as an on/off button, and in which anyone sitting on the upper deck is likely to experience motion sickness from the swaying as it rounds corners at improbable speeds. Not to mention the persistent nagging doubt that the bus will topple over. That’s where the real terror lies. Still, fear of death is life-affirming, so you’ll feel better as a result.
3. The Environment. Cars produce a lot of pollution*, and anyone that’s ever walked along the pavement next to a queue of traffic in the morning will be able to testify to the amount of noise-pollution that they emit. From the teenagers in the Vauxhall Corsa playing neurofunk at stomach-churning levels to the grey-faced businessmen listening to BBC Radio 4 at such a volume that, though you try not to listen, you can actually feel the shipping forecast reverberating through your skeleton as you walk past, traffic is intrusively noisy. But don’t panic. Though you may feel faint through sheer boredom on hearing the shipping forecast, it won’t actually kill you. Unless you concentrate on it quite hard.
4. The Train. You may be able to get the train to work. This will help you gain a new perspective on time and, as you realise that time, in fact, does not exist, and is just a series of made up numbers wholly unrelated to maths or the concept of measurement, you’ll relax and eventually come to enjoy starting your working day at lunchtime. Or 08:57, as First Capital Connect call it.
5. Parking Vouchers. Because you’ve paid for that parking permit, damn it. And every minute that your car is parked on the street outside your house you’re getting value for money. And eventually, if your car is parked outside your house for long enough, you’ll begin to turn a profit. Surely?
6. The Tube. Perhaps you live near an underground railway. And there’s no experience like getting together with a few thousand other people in a tin can and all trying not to look at each other (or at each other’s reflections in the window, that’s an amateur mistake). Ever wanted to know what you’d smell like if you didn’t bathe for a week? Go and stand next to a fat man in a cheap suit on a tube train. Then go home and shower. For a long time.
7. Because It’s A Good Idea. It’s actually a good idea to leave your car at home occasionally. Even if it turns out that the car is the most effective mode of transport for you, you’ll at least have explored the alternatives available. And if it isn’t, then you’ll have learned something valuable. Like discovering that bananas are easier to eat than apples, or that you enjoy eating gorgonzola more that you enjoy eating paté, or that kiwis give you more energy than a Mars bar. Or that you’re much hungrier than you thought you were.
*There are loads of car-pollution statistics available here.
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7 Reasons to Buy a Popemobile
It’s the last day of the papal visit to the United Kingdom and, somewhat to my surprise, I’ve been inspired by it. I used to believe that the bicycle was the correct vehicle for the urban environment, or that a tank would be practical, but I now realise that I’ve been a fool. The correct vehicle for the urban environment is, in fact, a popemobile. Here are seven reasons why.
1. Performance. A popemobile might outwardly appear a little too sedate for the urban environment. You might wonder how your popemobile will keep pace with modern traffic. But it will. Because the popemobile isn’t the top-heavy, lumbering vehicle that it appears to be. The popemobile that we’ve seen in the UK recently has a top speed of 160mph, and a 0-60 time of six seconds (never let it be said that we don’t do research here). Why they haven’t demonstrated this by spinning the wheels and performing doughnuts to delight the assembled crowds, I don’t know (unless they think that the smoking tyres might signify the election of a new pontiff). But the popemobile is faster than you think. And it’s also bullet-proof, which is handy if you live in Nottingham. Or near a Wetherspoons.
2. Running Costs. Now you might imagine that your popemobile will be expensive to run. And you’re right, it will be. But you can offset that cost by moonlighting as a taxi driver. You’ll make a fortune. Consider it for a moment. Imagine that you’re having a great evening out, but the time has come to return home. You might be a girl with impractical shoes, or married to a girl with impractical shoes and you’ll need to call a taxi. Or you can choose the new premium option, the popemobile taxi. Who wouldn’t pay through the nose to ride home in the popemobile? I’d be dialling MCMXIVIII to order a Vaticab like a shot.
3. View. Finding somewhere to park is one of the trickiest aspects of urban driving. Ever seen a pope struggling to find a parking space? Of course not, just look at the visibility they get in the back. You’ll be able to find a space easily. And laugh at balding people at the same time.
4. Income. The back of the popemobile is, essentially, a large glass jar. Now traditionally, in fairgrounds and confectioners, people fill large glass jars with sweets and charge customers money to guess how many are in there. And you can do that with your popemobile. You can’t just fill it with any sweet, obviously. You’ll need something (ahem) appoperiate. Werther’s Original?. You can charge people to guess how many are in there, and your vehicle will pay for itself really quickly. And you’ll meet lots of men in comfortable knitwear, which is..er…well. There must be a plus side to that somewhere.
5. Visibility. Ever lost your bland silver box of a car in the car park? Of course you have. I once spent almost an hour searching for a Volkswagen Passat I’d parked at B & Q. But with a popemobile that problem will disappear. A popemobile is visible from quite a distance. Even when there isn’t a pope in it.
6. Self-Sufficiency. We’re all looking for ways to stretch our budgets further these days, and everyone’s come over a bit Tom and Barbara from The Good Life recently. In fact, there probably hasn’t been a time since the second world war when people are growing so many of their own fruit and vegetables. In the urban environment that most of us live in though, there isn’t much space to do this. But look at the back of the popemobile. It’s glazed. You can use it as a greenhouse when you’re not cruising in it. And it’s bulletproof. So no one can off your cucumbers with an uzi. It’s an all-round win.
7. Resale Value. It’s unlikely that you’ll tire of your popemobile, but if you should, remember this. Second hand car dealers often try to attribute religious credentials to the former owners of the vehicles they’re trying to sell. “It was owned by a nun”, or “it was used by a vicar to travel around his small country parish” are oft-heard pieces of sales-patter. But imagine that you’re selling a vehicle that’s been owned by the pope? “One papal owner”? You’ll make a fortune.
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7 Reasons Playing With A Cuddly Toy 2010 Was Not A Let Down
Hello it’s Jon again. I know you weren’t expecting me again today – I wasn’t expecting me again today – but here I am. In my third and final attempt at reliving my childhood, I have decided to go all the way back to 1983. The year of my birth. On Christmas Day 1983, I was given a bear. Humbear. (He was the official bear of the Humber Bridge. Obviously). For many years he never left my side. So, in a bid to recreate the joys I once had, I am going to spend a day in the company of a cuddly toy. Unfortunately, Humbear isn’t with me. He’s at my parent’s house. So I have had to substitute him. And into Humbear’s place comes my girlfriend’s lamb, Lamb. (This is not his official name). Lamb and I spent a whole twenty-four hours together. And it was great. Truly great.
1. Lamb Can Fly. One of the things I have always regretted, is that Humbear always landed on his head whenever he slid down the handrail. Lamb doesn’t. Lamb bounces. Off his rather rotund chest. And then he sits upright. Ready for another go.
2. Lamb Can Dance. I learnt all my dance moves from Humbear, which explains a lot. Mostly why I prefer to do all my dancing sitting down ignoring the dance floor. If I had had Lamb on Christmas Day 1983, I dare say no one would credit the moonwalk to Michael Jackson. No matter what comes on the radio, Lamb does know how to have a good old bop. I did question his moves to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On, but I shouldn’t have done. If we all liked the same things the world would be very boring.
3. Lamb Can Play Cricket. Not matter how much I coached him, Humbear was quite a poor cricketer. He never seemed to learn and sadly had to retire from the game in circa 1989 after he was called for chucking a record 347 times in a row. Lamb though, well he’s quite a different character. Rather wonderfully, he doesn’t have much stuffing under his arms and so they actually move. A full 360 degrees at the shoulder. As a result he is quite rapid. Even if he does suffer from Harmison-itis.
4. Lamb Doesn’t Get Bored. Humbear, despite all the epic adventures he shared with me, always had a habit of looking very bored. Whether this was actually the case or whether it was just because the person whole made him stitched his mouth on upside down, I never discovered. Thankfully, Lamb comes with a positive attitude to life. He just sits there, watching me work, loving every minute of it. Whenever I look up, he is there, smiling away. It makes one very proud of the little fella.
5. Lamb Doesn’t Eat Biscuits. To this day, I am still convinced it was my Dad who stole the biscuit and implicated Humbear in the whole affair. Though, at the time, I may have believed him. Thankfully, Lamb doesn’t like biscuits. He just sits there, watching me, munching away. And he seems to enjoy the spectacle. So I have another one to entertain him.
6. Lamb Is Happy To Sleep On The Floor. I was always too scared to let Humbear sleep on the floor. I thought he may run away in the night, torn up inside by my rejection of him. As a result, he always slept in my bed. And to this day, he still does. At least he does when I’m not there. Lamb is very different. We came to an agreement. Whoever won the pillow fight, got to sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a long fight.
7. Lamb Doesn’t Miss Me. I always felt incredibly guilty about leaving Humbear alone if I had to go to school or play in the garden or hide him under the bed if a friend came round to play pirates. Thankfully, I don’t feel a shred of guilt about leaving Lamb alone when I go to play pirates with my friends. I say friends. They are more local school children. And I like to roar at them from behind bushes. Still good fun though. Anyway, Lamb is very happy not coming with me. He stays in bed with Big Bear and Strong Yoghurt. Again, not their official names.
*Many thanks to Claire for the loan (albeit unknown) of Lamb.
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7 Reasons Blue Peter 2010 Let Me Down
Hello, it’s me again. I’m still reliving my youth. I am sure it won’t come as much surprise to you, but instead of Grange Hill and Byker Grove, my childhood programme of choice was Blue Peter. Yesterday, I decided to watch it for the first time in twenty years.* I wish I hadn’t. What has happened to it?
Blue Peter Presenters: Joel (muppet), Andy (made to look a muppet) & Helen (female muppet) 1. The Opening Credits. What the bloody hell has happened to the Blue Peter theme? It sounds like the 1988 version has been put through a blender, drowned in the bath, driven over by a monster truck and spent a night in Jo Brand’s bed. Something like that. It isn’t good anyway.
2. The Presenters. I grew up with Caron Keating, Mark Curry and Yvette Fielding. Yesterday, I grew old with Helen, Andy and Joel. Muppets. All three of them. I remember Caron, Mark and Yvette being informative. The only thing Helen, Andy and Joel informed me was that they were idiots and that once upon a time some git had told them they were funny**.
3. Pronunciation. Within five minutes, Helen, has already baffled me with unfathomable English. “No rords with cors,” she said. If she hadn’t been reporting about a recent trip to Venice I will no doubt have been wondering why she felt it necessary to tell us that cows do not roar. As for telling me that there are no cars in Venice due to the lack of roads, yes, thanks for that.
4. Pets. In the good old days, a holiday for the tortoise was being put in a box with a load of straw and placed on a very high shelf. These days though, apparently she goes off to India, Paris and Egypt to get away from it all. Photoshop has a lot to answer for. I suspect when the tortoise finally snuffs it, instead of having Yvette solemnly breaking the news to us, Joel will try and convince us that he has gone on a round-the-world trip. The tortoise I mean, not Joel. Though that would be preferable.
5. Practical Demonstrations. What a shame that Helen has never heard of a ruler, that way she may have been able to demonstrate how high a three metre diving board is. Instead, she decided to use a balloon on a string. Outside. Where there’s quite a lot of wind. “Imagine if it was straight up,” she says, desperately trying to get the balloon above a 45 degree angle. Yes, Helen, I could have done that without the poxy balloons. Next time, why not just show us a picture of a diving board?
6. Vogue Bambini. Helen is in Milan. Which, while good news for us, isn’t good for the children of Italy. Especially as she has just encouraged everyone to pick up a copy of Vogue Bambini to look for the supermodels of the future. This I wouldn’t be so alarmed about, if Vogue Bambini wasn’t devoted to fashion for very young children. Unfortunately, it gets worse. Helen, Andy and Joel are going to photograph children. And, under the instruction of Vogue Bambini editor, Giuliana Parabiago, they have to be funny with the children. Joel’s face lights up. I don’t think I can bear to watch. Where are you Mark Curry?!
7. Joel. Yes, I know I have already talked about the presenters, but this clown needs a reason all to himself. Apart from annoying me with his unnecessarily silly antics throughout the show, he is now interviewing an eleven year-old male model. “I always thought modeling would be well hard.” No you didn’t Joel. You thought, ‘Modeling could be difficult at times’. “Come on Andy! Bring it like your mama gave it!” I despair. I really despair.
*Alright, fifteen.
**I have decided that Andy is actually quite good. He has just been brought down to the Joel/Helen level. My advice would be to get out before it’s too late.