Category: Posts

7 Reasons To Fly A Kite

1. Cats. It’s a well known fact that 80% of all missing cats are somewhere up a tree. 60% of these cats are found when someone accidentally gets their kite tangled up on the same branch. So basically, the morale of this reason is thus: If you’ve lost a cat, buy a kite.

2. Life Skills Training. There aren’t many more annoying things in life than Janet Street-Porter, but trying to fly a kite when there is no wind has to be one of them. Charging up and down the park, dragging a bit of string and cellophane – or whatever that material is – along the ground is enough to give anyone the hump. But this is where perseverance comes in. If at first you don’t succeed, keep trying until the wind comes.

3. You Want To Be David Attenborough. I, myself, have always liked the idea of being a sports commentator. Which is why, whenever I see a dog off it’s lead, I pretend it’s in a Grand Prix. It’s good practice. If you want to make wildlife documentaries, I can’t think of better place to practice than in the park. Preferably one like that in the above photo. You can make insightful comment on the relationship between a giant purple bear and a red lizard without any danger of either of them turning on you.

4. SOS. I know it’s unlikely, but if you ever find yourself on an apparently deserted island, well the best thing you can do is whip out your kite. Fly it high in the sky and there is much more chance of you being spotted and saved before the island monster comes and reads your mind and then kills you.*

5. Hand-eye Co-ordination. If you’ve ever wanted to improve your use of a knife and fork or your ability to text when drunk, then flying a kite surely has to be the perfect practice. Keep the kite in the air, without the strings tangling, without taking out another kite and without walking off the edge of the cliff. The results will be incredible. Don’t believe me? Well, you try using a knife and fork at the foot of the Beachy Head.

6. Chat-up Technique. If you see someone you like flying their kite, all you have to do is ‘accidentally’ run towards them and take their kite out with yours. Or, if you think they’ll provide you with a soft landing, just take them out. The next step is to be apologetic and, before you know it, you’ll be off on a date to the nearest kite repair store. Or the hospital.

7. Watch Retriever. You’ve probably never thought of this, but next time a magpie flies off with your watch, get the kite out. If you are quick enough you can chase after the pesky thing and capture it. Much more bird friendly than a shotgun.

*I might have been watching Lost a bit too much.

May 19, 2010
7 Reasons I Shouldn’t Have Seen This Picture Of Russell Crowe

1. Lips. Well, Russell looks manly and scary as always. But there’s something strange about his lips. They look a little red, don’t they? They strike a feminine note in an otherwise masculine portrait. That’s what inspired me to do this:

2. Head. There, that’s better. But there’s something else bothering me. In the original photo, the top of his head’s missing. Now I could try to blend in some hair to make it appear that he has a complete head but that’s tricky and time-consuming, and I have a simpler idea:

3. Accessorise. Okay ladies, now I’m sure you’ve all noticed that the hat looks a little out of place as it doesn’t go with the rest of his outfit. What he needs is something else to compliment it. Don’t worry, I’ve sorted it.

4. Legs. Russell has no legs in the picture either. Now, there’s nothing wrong with having a missing limb – as these amazing guys are preparing to demonstrate – but we know that Crowe has two of them. Never mind, I can get some from the internet.

5. Background. So there you go, Russell’s finished. But what about that dreary background? I’ll put him somewhere else.

6. Words. Not quite finished yet, we need some words to complete the picture. I’m a little tired now, what with all of the photoshopping, so I’ll need some help with that. This is now officially a caption competition. Put them in the comments section and we’ll add the best entry to the picture.

7. Danger. You might think that it’s foolhardy to lampoon a notoriously angry and volatile man like Russell Crowe, but how hard can he be? My name’s Jonathan Lee, and I’m not scared in the slightest.

**********Update**********

We were inundated by both entries to the caption competition and it was hard to pick a winner. But there can only be one and the winner is…Robert A. Foot with this entry.

Sailor 1: There’s something not right about that woman over there. Sailor 2: Yeah, her accent keeps changing every 3 minutes.

Thanks very much, Rob and Daryl, for your entries. You’ve both won a place on our prestigious (though seldom updated) Links page.

May 18, 2010
7 Reasons 7 Robin Hoods Have Been Useless

When I was a child, I loved the stories of Robin Hood. This great outlaw who beat the baddies and gave to the goodies. So when it comes to the big screen, I would like to know why they always cock it up. Why the hell can’t Robin be the Robin I admired so much when I was sat in bed in my Super-Ted pyjamas? Let’s have a look at seven Robin Hoods. And why they were rubbish.

1. Errol Flynn. The Adventures Of Robin Hood (1938). He was alright firing his arrows, but I’m sorry, no man should be seen to enjoy wearing tights quite as much as Errol did. The real Robin Hood certainly wouldn’t have been.

2. Brian Bedford. Robin Hood (1973). Don’t recognise the name? No, that’s because Brian Bedford (whoever he is) voiced the animated version of Robin Hood in this Disney version. The version where Robin was a fox. Robin Hood was not a bloody fox. Robin Hood was a man. The lack of research is astounding.

3. Sean Connery. Robin And Marian (1976). Robin Hood is 46 apparently. Oh, and he’s decided he doesn’t like Richard The Lionheart anymore. What the hell? Robin Hood never reached the age of 46. He’s like Peter Pan. Always in his late twenties or early thirties. And as for disliking good old Richard. Laughable. Robin had posters of Richard on his treehouse and everything.

4. Wayne Morris. Maid Marian And Her Merry Men (BBC TV Series 1989-1994). Everyone remembers this programme for Marian. And possibly Tony Robinson. There was a Robin though. He was called Robin of Kensington. And he was a tailor. A tailor? In Kensington? Yes, because that’s right next to Sherwood forest isn’t it? I think I may be losing the will to live.

5. Kevin Costner. Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves (1991). Never quite got the hang of the accent thing did Kevin. Either that or some muppet told him Robin Hood was born in California.

6. Jonas Armstrong. Robin Hood (BBC TV Series 2006-2009). If there is one thing we know about Robin Hood for sure, it is that he liked firing arrows and he had the horn whenever he saw Marian. He fancied her. He wanted her. And he does in this version. Great. That’s until Marian decides to leave. Does Robin chase her and try and get her back? No, he moves onto the new girl in the village. Some bird called Kate. Pathetic.

7. Russell Crowe. Robin Hood (2010). Russell Crowe thinks Robin Hood is French. I shall let my silence tell you what I think of that.

May 14, 2010
7 Reasons That The Ash Cloud Is Just Taking The Piss Now

1. Time. The eruption of Eyjafjallajökull was on the 14^th of April and news of the eruption emerged three days later, when newsreaders had finally mastered saying “Eyjafjallajökull”. It’s now the 12^th of May, so that’s almost a month that the cloud’s been menacing Europe for. A month is a long time: It’s a long time in politics; it’s a long time in sport; it’s a long time in Tipperary, and it’s a bloody long time for a cloud of ash to be hanging around, cocking the whole of Europe up. Enough!

The Route Taken By The Ash Cloud

2. Movement. The cloud is just floating about, apparently at random. Its course is seemingly unaffected by the weather and meteorologists can’t predict where it will go to next. I’ve plotted the cloud’s movement over the last few weeks and here’s the result. Just look at it! It’s a doodle. I might as well have commissioned a two year old boy to draw it with a wax crayon, but I didn’t. I did it properly, using Photoshop. The cloud’s making me look like an idiot. And I’m not even married to it.

3. Light. The cloud – when it is between the ground and the sun – apparently blocks out some sunlight. I’m terrified it’s going to turn up near me. I live in Yorkshire and can’t afford to see any less sun; I can already light up a room just by removing my clothes. If I were any paler I’d be a hazard to aircraft – assuming there were any flying, that is. It’s bound to turn up here sooner or later, it’s already been everywhere else. Even Lancashire.

4. Not Dissipating. Three weeks ago, after the cloud passed over the North-West of England, my friend Roger found an ashy residue on his car. We would logically assume that debris from the cloud was dropped on many cars (and on other things), not just his. But the cloud hasn’t shrunk, which means that it’s either capable of self-regeneration, or it’s persecuting Roger. Either way, that’s bad form.

5. Portugal. It’s not just Roger that the cloud’s persecuting. It’s Portugal. I have friends who were stuck there on holiday for an extra week until, finally, the cloud went off to Scotland and they were able to fly back. Another friend was due to fly out to Lisbon this week, but the cloud has decided to go back to Portugal, so he can’t. I don’t know why the cloud is tormenting the Portugese – the French have probably already surrendered to it – but it does seem a little unfair. Perhaps it tasted a glass of Mateus Rose and it’s holding a grudge.

6. The News Agenda. The cloud’s keeping important stories out of the news. I’ve only just found out that there was some sort of election and that we’ve got a new government. Who knew?

7. Air. I’m beginning to suspect that the cloud is sentient – after all, it couldn’t have caused any more chaos if it were conducting a meticulously planned campaign. I’m also beginning to worry that it’s evil. Think about it, the last person that tried to hamper British air efficacy and caused large-scale movement of people around Europe by land was Hitler. We need to act now!

May 12, 2010
7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Use The Washing Machine

1. Odd socks. Wearing odd socks is not really the done thing. It looks strange and makes people avoid you. The problem is that it’s really not your fault. If the washing machine understood that eating a sock is not part of the deal when you use the machine, then you could walk around like a normal person. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?

2. Communication Destroyer. They are loud and clanky bits of machinery are washing machines, so much so that you may struggle to hear the wife when she asks, ‘Have you seen the cat?’

3. Vision Depletor. It doesn’t take much, just a dodgy washing machine door and too much soap powder. Before you know it, the suds have built up to uncontainable levels, pushed the door open and filled the room with white floaty stuff. As fun as it is to play around in, it won’t be long before you’ve collided with the blender.

4. Back Injury Hazard. The majority of duvets are light. In weight I mean, not colour. Though some are light in weight and colour – which is to be applauded I suppose. But when you’ve stopped applauding, let’s get back to my point. Duvets are light. They can be tossed into the machine and one does not need to adhere to correct tossing procedures. However, upon washing machine cycle completion, something has happened. The once light duvet, is now heavy. Not only is it wet, it has also eaten everything else in the machine. To remove said duvet, one should adhere to heavy object lifting protocol. But does one? No one does not. Silliness.

5. DIY Fail. I am convinced the traditional washing machine is made out of parts of a space-shuttle. How else can you explain it’s complete disregard for gravity? When I switch my washing machine on, I expect it to stay next to the sink, not head off down the kitchen towards the oven. Nor do I expect it to chip away at the tiling on the way.

6. Administration Fail. I have a filing system for receipts. It’s called the back pocket of my jeans. Usually I find these much easier to read when they are dry. Not when they have been reduced to little bits of paper and apparently superglued to every other item of clothing I have just pulled from the machine.

7. Not Every Day Is Valentine’s Day. Presenting your girlfriend/wife with pink lingerie may be seen as a romantic gesture one day a year, but it gets a bit repetitive if it happens everytime you use the washing machine. The secret is to make sure there is no red sock in with the whites. Apparently.

May 11, 2010
7 Reasons That The BBC Election Night Coverage Was Weird

1. Fiona Bruce. Bizarrely, for their election special, the BBC decided to segregate the sexes, with the men downstairs and the women upstairs. Queen of the woman-zone was – of course – Fiona Bruce. She was obviously so determined to be seen as the prettiest of them all that she appeared to be wearing all of the make-up. I don’t just mean foundation, concealer, blusher and mascara (I have just reached the limit of my make-up vocabulary), I mean the BBC make-up department’s entire stock of everything. It was extraordinary. Her face appeared to be entombed in concrete. She’s noted for being calm and cool, but if she’d become hysterical during the broadcast it wouldn’t have become apparent until next Wednesday. They’re probably still trying to excavate her chin now.

2. Dimbleby. Down in the man-area David Dimbleby was firmly in command. Seated at the big table, he exuded authority and unflappable professionalism. Of course, there’s no reason that he shouldn’t have, he’s been covering elections since Gladstone was in power. I checked Wikipedia on election night to find out Dimble’s age and discovered that he is a hundred and fifty-four, and that he is immortal. Thanks Wikipedia.

The iMonolith. It's very perceptive.

3. 2010: A Geek Odyssey. Also upstairs in the woman-zone was Emily Maitlis. She was in possession of some extraordinary equipment; she had something that looked like a giant iPad (an iPad Maxi, perhaps). I wondered at first if it was a regular sized one and they’d shrunk Emily Maitlis, but that turned out not to be the case. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite work out why. Then it struck me. It was like a cross between an iPad and the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Presumably across the nation, Apple-obsessed-geeks were gazing in awe at the iMonolith, drooling, and thinking “I want one”. That was pretty much what I was doing too, though I wasn’t looking at the iMonolith.

4. Tradition. One of the best election night traditions that the viewer can participate in is the time-honoured custom of being aggravated by the ridiculous and vapid CGI effects that Jeremy Vine uses to illustrate election night events. Appearing baffled, rolling your eyes and criticising the stupidity of the CGI is the viewer’s traditional role on election night – it’s like being Paxman – but this year, something strange happened. I understood all of the graphics; I wasn’t annoyed by them; I didn’t feel patronised by them; in fact, they were quite good. I don’t pay my licence fee to not be annoyed by the election night graphics. It is my right. Next time, I expect them to spend more money on them and make them as vast, preposterous and inscrutable as usual.

5. Paxman. The third inhabitant of the woman-zone was everybody’s favourite pantomime dame, Jeremy Paxman. My god he was furious. Perhaps he was cross because he’d been put upstairs with the ladies away from the big table, or perhaps it was because Dimbleby refuses to die. Whatever the reason, he was angry, short-tempered and petulant throughout the broadcast. It’s a shame to see that a once fine broadcaster has become such a parody of himself. Even having two laptops wasn’t enough to placate him. He looked like a man who didn’t want to be there and I hope he gets his wish.

6. The Luvvie Boat. To cover an election that the Tories (who have promised to slash the BBC budget) were widely expected to win, the BBC chose to spend a vast amount of money giving free booze to celebrities on a swanky boat moored on the Thames. They’re obviously idiots. Captaining the good ship Lollygag was Andrew Neil, a man so creepy that spiders shriek and stand on chairs when they encounter him. It was Neil’s job to elicit the opinions of drunken celebs on the election and in this he was successful. Unfortunately, as is often the case after a lot of drink has been taken, the views being expressed were not as coherent and insightful as they might otherwise have been. Probably the best slurrer of the evening was Kirsty Allsop. I can’t remember exactly what point she was trying to make, and she probably can’t either. The soberest person on the boat appeared to be Bruce Forsyth, but his opinion wasn’t helpful either because he’s clearly mad. There is nothing in the world that can be improved by knowing Brucie’s opinion on it. Nothing.

7. The Result. We’re still waiting for the result, it’s been four days! Hurry up.

May 10, 2010
Election Special: 7 Reasons I Managed To Stay Up All Night

Yesterday, there was a general election. You may have noticed. The results came in over night. I was there. Throughout. This is how I did it.

10:00pm. So we have an Exit Poll – which it turns out is very different from an exit pole. It’s going to be Hung Parliament time. I can hardly contain myself. So I don’t and have a biscuit. Ten minutes into the programme and the BBC have a screen fail. Unfortunately, there was no screen fail while Dorothy was walking along the Yellow Brick Road. Or was it Jeremy Vine bouncing down Downing Street? Who cares. The BBC try and talk to Michael Gove. He’s mute. I don’t blame him. Jeremy Paxman is asking silly questions. Oh no, Gove has stopped being mute. And worse luck, so has Harriet Harman. I note her choice of nose this evening. I’m not sure why I note it, but I do. Some twats in Sunderland seem to think they are on Record Breakers. Tossers.

11.00pm. The first hour wasn’t too bad. I feel relatively fresh. Mind you, I am not usually in bed by this time anyway. Not that I need to share my bedroom habits with you. And I hope you don’t want to share yours with me. (But if you do we have an email address: [email protected]). I’ve got the munchies now. My fridge shouts sausages at me. Not literally. That would wake the neighbours. I ignore them anyway. Another biscuit. Labour are winning 1-0-0-0 by the way. Jeremy Vine is playing virtual dominoes. Esther Rantzen is on my screen. It brings back memories of Hearts Of Gold. In the meantime, Fiona Bruce seems to be finding everything absolutely hilarious. I don’t know why. This is boring.

Midnight. And we are into a new day. The day we get a new government. Or not. Ken Clarke just made me giggle. Some sly comment about Paxman cutting away from him to show Gordon Brown arrive at his count. David Cameron has gone to the pub. It’s 00:33. Late license? Blimey I need a drink. Stricnine ideally. Only three seats in so far. Why is it so slow? Eyelids beginning to feel a little heavy now. David Dimbleby is angry. Very angry. It’s a scandal apparently. I think he’s talking about people getting turned away from polling stations, but I am distracted by thoughts of him in the boardroom. Not in a dirty way. In a Sir Alan Sugar getting annoyed with the candidates way. I wonder what Sir Alan Sugar is doing tonight. Subbuteo is my guess. I used to love that game. Time for another biscuit.

1:00am. The Tories still haven’t won a seat, but boy they’re swinging hard. Mind you the Baltimore Orioles swing hard every year and look where that has got them in the AL East. I’m talking about baseball now. How did that happen? Oh yes, I was thinking about swinging. Cameron just stroked his wife’s bottom. Nice touch. I feel drunk. Which is odd considering I haven’t had a drink since Saturday night. I think I need to start now though. Twenty-three seats declared. David Blunkett has admitted defeat. I think he has fired off a bit too early to be honest. But as the camera won’t pan downwards, I’ll never be able to confirm this.

2:00am. And we’ve made it to 2am. The Tories have won some seats, Labour have won some more seats and the Lib Dems appear to be going backwards. Which is odd. Nick Robinson agrees with me. It is odd. But enough of this election nonsense, I am back on the tea. Not that I ever really left it. It’s just been a while since my last cup. Like forty minutes. Now I’m having a look at Twitter. There is a lot of hate out there isn’t there? My political views – and they are mainstream – make me anything ranging from a ‘deluded prick’ to a ****. I chuckle to myself heartily. The Sex Education Show is on Channel 4. I’m not watching it, I just pressed guide to see what else was on. Now someone’s talking Welsh. What’s the point?

3:00am. My freeview box wants to do a daily service update. Cameron wants to talk. Seeing as I watched Brown do his speech after he held on to his seat, I’ll give Cameron his moment. He doesn’t seem to know what he’s talking about though. Fair enough, he hasn’t been to sleep for months. We’ve got a race to the first hundred on now. It’s neck and neck. Not anymore it’s not… oh, yes it is! No, it’s not! Yes, it is! I’m doing Murray Walker impressions. And The Tories win, win, win! Well that was fun. That’s kept me going for the last thirty-minutes. Now I’m screwed. I’m not going to survive another hour before we get to 200. Fiona Bruce is still high I see.

4:00am. And now I enter my 7th hour. Nick Clegg holds on to his seat. But he doesn’t look too happy. Maybe someone ate his Mars bar. That is just about the worst feeling ever. I have a headache now. Sleep deprivation beginning to bite. And now it’s raining. I wonder if the Tories need less seats under the Duckworth-Lewis system? I ask Marc. He doesn’t know. His cat thinks he knows though. Marc has been talking to his cat. I wish I had a cat. Would be so much more interesting than talking to myself. It’s definitely going to be a hung parliament then. In that case I’m going to bed. I leave the situation standing at 224-167-36-26. It’s been fun. No, actually, it hasn’t.

May 7, 2010
Election Special: 7 Reasons It’s Important To Vote Today

7Reasons.org is avowedly apolitical, but the 7 Reasons team are not. As individuals, the 7 Reasons team concur on some things politically – the colossal importance of Sussex in the world order and subsidies for internet humourists are two of them – and differ on other things. So when we go and vote today, we’ll probably vote differently: That’s a good thing, we live in a democracy. The important thing is that we’re voting: Here’s why.

1. Local Issues. Never mind the fatuous faux-presidential debates featuring Smug, Clunking and Irrelevant, you won’t be able to vote for – or against – any of them anyway (unless you live in Witney, Kircaldy and Cowdenbeath or Sheffield Hallam, that is). You’ll be voting for the person that you feel can best represent your interests, both locally and nationally; the person you think can pressure your local council into mending pot-holes or providing stocks for people that park in cycle lanes (I’m still waiting for a reply to that letter), because that’s pretty much what your only contact with your elected representatives will be. You don’t decide who’s going to be Prime Minister, the parliamentary representatives of the majority party do that, but you can decide who represents you and your interests there.

2. Expenses. The parliamentary expenses scandal showed us that there’s serious cross-party corruption in Parliament. If the incumbent of your local seat came out of the expenses scandal badly, this is your chance to remove them from office. Even if you don’t care about politics, you should surely care about integrity; and how many more duck houses and moats do you want to pay for? I’ve always wanted an orangery by the way, if anyone’s buying.

3. Complaint. If you don’t vote then you can’t complain about things afterwards. I haven’t met a British person that can go for five hours without complaining about something, let alone five years. If you have to go that long without complaining you’ll probably explode, or perhaps you’ll find an inner serenity and be elected the new Dalai Lama. Either way, not complaining is uncharted territory and it’s probably dangerous.

4. Other Countries. In the 2005 general election the turnout was 61.3%, which means that 38.7% of people that were eligible to vote didn’t do so. Okay, some of those abstainers probably had good reasons – illness, unforeseen events etc. – but that’s still quite a shameful figure, and if you don’t vote, you shame the nation. After all, if North Korea can get an electoral turnout of nearly 100% then so can we. Or perhaps that’s a bad example. But elections are infrequent in the U.K. and it really isn’t too much trouble to go out and vote. It’s not like we live in Switzerland where they have to vote (on average) seven times per year. Voting’s not difficult and you don’t have to do it often – it’s much like washing a duvet.*

5. See A School. When was the last time you were inside a school? If you’re old enough to vote then you’re too old to attend one. Election day is the only day when many grown-ups can turn up at schools without being asked to leave. Our local school has a hopscotch court painted onto the playground, which is a great place to play while you contemplate how to vote.

6. Change. All of the main parties have told us – many times during this campaign – that a vote for them is a vote for change. I love the idea of being paid for my vote and I’m going to put my change toward a tiramisu. Or a wok. No, a tiramisu. Definitely.

7. Sacrifice. Many, many brave and noble people laid down their lives and sacrificed a great deal so that they – and we – would be able to live in a democracy. We only finished paying off the Americans for the Second World War in December 2006, so most people eligible to vote today have made sacrifices too. We dishonour the efforts of many people by not voting. Also, if we don’t exercise our democratic right to vote, we leave others to dictate policy to us and by our apathy, we impose dictatorship on ourselves. Second World War propagandists would have probably put it like this.

*I’m wrong. It’s way easier to vote than it is to wash a duvet, or even to carry one of the blasted things: You need arms like Mr Tickle.

May 6, 2010
7 Reasons That Bank Holiday Weekends Are Weird

1. Bank Holiday Monday. It’s weird. It’s a second Sunday. Shops and public transport operate on Sunday time on bank holiday Mondays, but Sunday is a pudding of a day: So why not make the Sunday of the bank holiday weekend a second Saturday instead? Then we’d have two Saturdays and only one Sunday (Monday), which is a much better Saturday: Sunday ratio. Plus, people spend more on Saturdays, so it would help the economy. See, I’ve thought this through.

2. The Wray Scarecrow Festival. Possibly one of the best bank holiday events anywhere in the world. It’s a festival of scarecrows! It’s almost as good as cheese-rolling! Look! Scarecrows! Bloody thousands of them (well, several).

3. Weather. Western Sub-Saharan Africa and Indo-Australia are afflicted with particularly intense monsoon seasons. In Britain, we have one too. Every bloody bank holiday weekend. This is why one of our more notable national traits is moaning about the weather. Well, that and tea consumption. On balance, I prefer moaning.

4. People. People do strange things during bank holidays. This bank holiday weekend, I found myself at home alone and decided to watch the classic ITV documentary series, The World At War. All twenty-six episodes. I watched the entire Second World War in three days. Madness. No one sets themselves that sort of stupid task on a normal weekend. They do practical things like building an Anderson Shelter in the garden or shopping for powdered egg and nylons.*

5. The Following Week. The bank holiday throws the whole working week off kilter. Tuesday becomes Monday, Wednesday becomes Tuesday, Thursday becomes Wednesday yet Friday is still Friday, because we’ve all adjusted by the time we get to it. But a day’s gone missing somewhere. Hasn’t it?

6. Banks. Why do banks even get their own holiday? Is it so they can look down their noses at building societies? Is it to give them less time in which to cock up the global economy? Perhaps we should have more bank holidays.

7. Cheese Rolling. The best thing in the history of the world: Better than powered flight; better than cricket; better than sausages. It’s cheese-rolling. If you haven’t seen cheese-rolling before, here’s some footage.**

*I may have watched too much war.

** That was a person with a horse’s head, by the way. You weren’t imagining it. Thought you’d like to know.

May 4, 2010
7 Reasons The Brylcreem Batting Challenge Is Flawed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 3, 2010