Category: Posts

7 Reasons To Wear A Sling

Last night I found myself in a sling. Not because I had done a mischief, but because I had immersed myself in a role-play situation. Reasons for this are seven-fold and may or may not appear on this site later this week. While I was sitting there being slinged-up, it occurred to me that I had been missing a trick for twenty-eight years. I had never worn a sling. And because of that I was missing out on so much.

1. Sympathy. Not for the Devil or indeed for Adam, but for all of us. If we see someone in a sling we automatically feel sorry for them. How did they do that? Are they in pain? Can I help them carry their bags off the train? Wear a sling and you will get more love than you did that morning from your so-called loved one. Admittedly you may have destroyed their eight year-old cactus by dropping a pair of wet jeans on it, but even so.

2. Innocence. If there has just been a terrible crime and there are blood soaked bodies all over the road – or a box of tea-bags has gone missing from Sainsbury’s – it’s easy to look around and identify the suspect. You might not mean to do it, but it’s automatic. “There,” you think, “that youth in the beanie holding a machete is responsible for the murders.” He might not be. He might be a nice lad out for a stroll. But in our panic stricken minds we play to stereotypes. “That man there, the one who looks like he broke his arm recently and is now in a sling, did he commit these atrocities? No, of course he didn’t. He’s in a sling.” So you stop watching him. And off he wanders with 240 Gold Standard tea-bags stuffed down his trousers. Never to be seen again.

3. Massage. The problem with massaging your own neck and shoulder is that your arm gets tired very quickly. Arms were not meant to be positioned across your body at an upwards angle. They are meant to dangle loosely by your side and whack into door frames or old women. A sling, though, will give you that much needed support. You can massage your neck, shoulder and jab your collar bone with your fingers all day if you wish. Who needs an osteopath?

4. Discrimination. I’ve been for a few job interviews in the last six months and failed to land any of the jobs.* The reason for this has just dawned on me. I am perfect. Too perfect in every possible way. As a result employers can easily turn me away without the fear of a lawsuit being filed against them for discrimination. If I were to wear a sling though, well, things would be very different. They wouldn’t dare not employ me. If they did they’d know that I’d complain. They know I would sight the fact that they discriminated against me because I was wearing a sling. It would go to court. I’d get a lot of money. They’d go into liquidation. I’d win. That is the power of the sling.

5. Bullies. We’ve all heard the story of David walking along Brixton High Street only to be faced down by the towering figure of Goliath. What did he do? That’s right, he slipped out of his sling, picked a hypodermic needle up off the floor and fired it at Goliath’s head. Down he went, all hypodermatised. A lesson for us all. If you’re being bullied (or just passing through Brixton) wear a sling. No one will touch you.

6. Adoption. A sling is particularly helpful if you are an actress wandering about in a foreign country. It is quite possible that you may see a child you quite like the look of. A child who you think would enjoy the sights and sounds of downtown Beverley Hills. A child you want to keep. All you need to do is whip your arm out of the sling and pop whichever child that takes your fancy in it. Simple as that. You then get your lawyers to sort out the payment.

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7. Cold. In true 7 Reasons style we save the most obvious reason for last. The sling is basically just a big handkerchief. Which is ideal if you’ve got a big cold. Gone are the days of destroying rainforests for a box of Kleenex. Gone are the days of having to pile snot upon snot and then wiping it all over your face. A sling will allow you to blow your nose in the comfort of dry material at least six times. Thus curing colds in half the time a normal handkerchief would. Sometimes I think 7 Reasons should run the NHS.

*This is why I haven’t started calling myself Rebecca if you’re wondering what happened there.

July 19, 2011
7 Reasons You’d Be Crazy Not To Partake In These Crazes

I don’t know if it’s that time of the century or something, but there do appear to be a lot of plonkers out there. When I was a lad I remember there being a table-tennis craze, a yo-yo craze and a Pogs craze. These days though such frivolous activity has been replaced by the need to lie flat and have someone take a photo of you. I am, of course, referring to the art (or lack of) of planking. And now I see there is a new phenomenon sweeping the world. Owling. I hardly need to explain the concept. This picture says it all.

Owling (Or as I like to call it 'pratting about')

While I find these addictions creatively unfulfilling, I can see the opportunity. That’s why I have come up with seven crazes that I anticipate will sweep the county, country, continent, world and galaxy within the next few months. All I need is for you to take one craze and spread it amongst your social circle. It would also be good if you could add the photos to our Facebook page. Right, here are the options.

1. Tarzaning. This involves the participant climbing a tree, removing their shirt and beating their chest before falling back down to earth. It should be noted that Tarzaning differs from Gorillaing in the fact that the latter is limited to those with all over body hair.

2. Frogging. This is the art of jumping over unsuspecting bystanders. The ‘froger’ should approach the ‘frogee’ from behind. Having placed their hands on the ‘frogee’s’ shoulders, the ‘froger’ should then thrust themselves up and over the ‘frogee’s’ head before running away giggling.

3. Bushing. A variation on the already established bush jumping craze, bushing differs in that it does not involve jumping. It takes a more artistic approach to positioning yourself within a bush. It’s also particularly useful if you need the toilet.

4. Stacking. This craze involves the building of a stack – using any stacking material you can find – and then sees the participant balancing on the top. The aim is to create as tall a stack as possible without it toppling over when you attempt to climb on it. It is also important to note that each stack must be made out of the same material. So, for example, you can make a stack entirely out of CD jewel cases, but you can’t make one out of CD jewel cases and DVD cases. This method is unofficially known as shafting.

5. Hatting. Particularly popular at music festivals, hatting is the art of wearing as many hats at one time as you possibly can. It should be the aim of each participant to achieve hattacular status – a level attained by someone whose combined hat height is equivalent to that of their own height. (Regretfully, midgets are excluded from hatting.).

6. Arching. This involves bending over a popular landmark. For example, the Blackpool Imitation Tower in Paris. Obviously, actually bending over the Tower of Eiffels is an impossibility which is why arching is only concerned with apparent bending. A suitable distance away from the landmark, participants bend over. With both hands and feet touching the ground the body forms an arch shape. It is then up to the photographer to capture the landmark so that it appears under your arch. (While this is a family craze it is regretful that some people use it for other means. As such please only agree to bend over for people you know.).

7. Wapping. The craziest and most potentially dangerous of the seven crazes mentioned today. Wapping involves going to Wapping. All participants are advised to change their mobile phone pin numbers before entering the area.

Enjoy the crazes!

July 15, 2011
7 Reasons The British Obsession With Weather Is A Myth

This evening sees a new programme come to BBC One. It’s called The Great British Weather and features Alexander Henry Fenwick Armstrong, Chris Hollins and Carol Kirkwood telling us why we are obsessed with weather. Well, let us tell you something right now. We aren’t. And that’s ‘we’ in royal sense too. We really aren’t. It’s a complete myth. Here’s why:

1. Greeting. It is often commented upon that talk of the weather is the first topic of conversation one enters when meeting someone else. That is certainly true here at 7 Reasons sofaquarters. When Marc and I park our posteriors on the cushions of destiny our first acknowledgement is that we arrived rather wet. Or, if it’s not Summer, rather dry. This is not because we particularly care about the weather, it’s because this is how the British greet each other. The Americans comment on how many pancakes they had that morning, the Japanese comment on how tall they are feeling and the French snog each other. It’s an ice-breaker.

2. Meaning. The word ‘obsession’ means, according to my sources, the domination of one’s thoughts. To dominate your thoughts I reckon the subject must be thought about at least 50% of the time. And if that failed to make sense, read the next sentence – it’s much clearer. For someone to be obsessed with the weather they need to be thinking of the weather more than twelve hours a day. And not even South East Today’s weather girl, Kaddy-Lee Preston, does that. I know this because she likes break dancing, techno music and goats. And as I am sure you’ll know, when you’ve got goats on the brain there is simply not enough time to get obsessed with weather.

3. Stats. In a Daily Telegraph article last October, Murray Wardrop (apparently the unthinking man’s Murray Walker) said this, ‘Our obsession with the weather runs so deep that almost 70% of British people check the weather forecast at least once a day’. No Murray dear, this is not because we are obsessed, it is because we don’t want to wear our Bermuda shorts if it’s going to be a monsoon out there. I go to the fridge at least five times a day. Does this make me obsessed with the little light that goes on and off as I open and close the door? I think not.

4. Observation. “Good gracious,” I exclaimed, “she’s a big girl!” Those are the very words I used the other day when watching a TV programme. I can’t remember what it was, but I remember the big girl. Now, I didn’t say these words because I am obsessed with big girls. I’m not. Nor am I obsessed with small girls if that’s what you are wondering. In fact I never have been. Except when I was small myself. It seemed acceptable then. Anyway, I seem to be veering from the point. The reason I exclaimed that there was a big girl on the TV is because I was surprised. I genuinely wasn’t expecting someone quite so vuluptuous to appear right there, right then. Which is why I felt the need to announce my observation to anyone who would listen. It is exactly the same situation as if I had looked to my left and noticed whites flakes. “Good gracious,” I would have exclaimed, “it’s snowing in July!”. The line between observation and obsession is so vast I am astounded people can blur it so readily.

5. Media. Remember the Big Freeze last year that killed 60,000 people? No, neither do I. Though that is what the Sunday Express sensationally suggested.

It’s the British tabloid press that are obsessed with the weather and sadly we, the public, are tarred with the same brush. I suppose we should be thankful that the revelations of the last few weeks mean The Sunday Express are very unlikely to continue hacking Michael Fish’s phone.

6. Popular Culture. The film The Day After Tomorrow – which was pretty much an entire celebration of extreme weather – brought in just over £25 Million at the UK box office. In the same year Spider-Man 2 brought in nearly £1.5 Million more. Admitedly the film did feature Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head, but if you are suggesting we went to watch it just because of that I won’t believe you. Just to be on the safe side though, Shrek 2 brought is nearly £48 Million in the UK alone. And at no point is the weather mentioned. So I think that proves, in 2004 at least, Brits were more obsessed by Cameron Diaz looking like a green ugly thing than the weather.

7. Me. If the British obsession with the weather wasn’t a myth; if it were as true as you and I existing on this very day; if we all loved rain and shine and celebrated each as we celebrate our birthday. ~~Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, and – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son~~! Then I wouldn’t be wasting my morning writing about the blasted thing would I?

*The Great British Weather starts on BBC One tonight at 7.30pm. Yay!

July 13, 2011
7 Reasons That Seven Is Called Seven (probably)

Okay, people. You can’t have failed to have noticed that David and Victoria Beckham have had a daughter and that they’ve named her Harper Seven Beckham (unless you get your news from the News of the World, in which case time stopped yesterday). Now, we all understand why the Beckhams have named their daughter Harper; it’s because they’re aficionados that have been inspired by the American literary canon (and who amongst us wouldn’t rate Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird as a seminal work), but most people have been a bit nonplussed by their selection of the second-name Seven. As of yet, there’s been no official word on what the fuck they were thinking how they selected their newborn’s middle moniker so, in the best traditions of 7 Reasons (.org), we’re going to flail around and speculate wildly. Here are seven reasons that Seven is called Seven (probably).

1. They’re Big Fans! Well, we had no idea and frankly we’re a little overwhelmed and very flattered. You see, we have a number of American readers, though we know very little about them, we just know that we are read regularly in America. So, it’s possible that David and Victoria love our website and have named their daughter after us. After all, it’s easily possible that homesick Brits abroad would love to keep up with what’s going on at home and why wouldn’t the Beckhams want to know when one of the team gets stuck in a revolving door or the other one buys a new laundry bin? There’s no reason that they wouldn’t want to know that. None at all. Of course they’ve named their daughter after us.

2. Conception. The Beckhams are noted for naming their children for the place where they were conceived: Brooklyn was conceived in Brooklyn; Romeo was conceived in the back of an Alfa Romeo; Cruz was conceived on a cruise (spelling apparently isn’t their strong suit) and it’s easily possible that their latest child was conceived in hotel room number 7 somewhere, or (in a variation on the theme) at seven o’clock, or while watching Channel 7 (Australia). Or perhaps she was conceived near the River Severn. Whatever it is, it could be about the conception.

3. Dwarves. I know a bit about newborn babies – being the curator of one myself – and one of the most striking things about them is that they are tiny. Really, really little. Perhaps, as the Beckhams held their wee bundle in their arms, they looked at her and thought isn’t she small? Let’s call her Small. No, we can’t call her small, that would be silly. People will make fun. We’re going to have to take a more sophisticated approach than that. Let’s be clever. Let’s take the concept of small and be a little more oblique. What else is small? Dwarves! Let’s call her Sleepy! Or Dopey! No, we can’t call her that; it spoils a potential nickname. Let’s be a tad circumlocutory when we reference the dwarves. Got it! We’ll call her Seven.

4. Keeping Track. In the manner of farmers painting numbers on the sides of their cows (which is essentially a rural version of tagging perpetrated by ruddy-faced tweed-wearers in fields), it’s quite important to keep track of your herd. With the addition of Harper Seven Beckham, there will now be six members of the Beckham household. But thumbs are complex things, and when you’re counting to seven, it’s easy to make a mistake, right? After all, thumbs are only half the size of your fingers. Who wouldn’t find that confusing? Oh yes. Them.

5. Seinfeld. Okay, so maybe the Beckhams aren’t fans of our site: That would explain why the limited edition diamond encrusted version of our Blowers t-shirt remains unsold. But perhaps they are fans of Seinfeld. After all, George Costanza’s ideal name for a boy (or a girl) was Seven. Obviously, Jerry objected, but as he was the least funny thing in his own sitcom so it’s possible that the Beckhams ignored him. We have too. George is right.

6. Numerology. In 2011, the number seven is tremendously significant. We’ve done actual research and have discovered that, for numerologists, the number seven represents all manner of important stuff that we sort of skim-read. To our untrained eyes, it might appear somewhat similar to every other number and year, but to experts (and who’s to say that the latest celebrity craze isn’t Scientology or Kabbalah and that Posh and Becks aren’t, in fact, Grand High Poobahs of Numerology or Akelas or something ), it’s probably quite meaningful and important. And interesting. And had we looked at it closely, it might have seemed profound.

7. It’s Not The Worst Name They Could Think Of. I learned today of a worse baby name than Seven: also worse than Superman; and worse than Adolf. I discovered that a baby at my son’s baby group is called…Ian. That’s right, a baby called Ian. The boy Ian. Ian the baby. A name that’s only appropriate for a man in his 50s (or Ian Bell) has been given to tiny child. What sort of monster would name their child Ian? Never mind speculating about the name Seven, that’s a question we all need an answer to.

*The 7 Reasons team would like to congratulate the Beckhams on the occasion of the birth of their daughter, Harper Seven Beckham. Though we may have derived some humour from their choice of name (we are humourists, after all), we have nothing but admiration for their conduct as parents which, in an age where parenting skills often seem to be lacking amongst such a large section of the population, are an exemplary example to us all. Congratulations! But Seven? Really?

July 12, 2011
7 Reasons Not To Get Stuck In A Revolving Door

We’re in a revolving door. Mid-revolution. But we’re not going anywhere. We are, as the saying goes, stuck. There are eight of us in total. Myself, another man and a woman in our half and a family of five in the other. We’re all looking at each other. And I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

1. Suspicion. Everyone is looking at me. I am the prime suspect here. Just because I am very close to the glass in front of me. Everyone thinks I touched it. Everyone thinks I stopped the revolving doors. I didn’t. I promise you I didn’t. I’ve had years of practice in these things. I know how to use them. I did not touch the glass. I did not. I try and make every sinew in my face as innocent as possible. But it doesn’t work. Everyone still thinks it was me.

2. Blush. And because everyone thinks it was me and because everyone is staring at me, the colour races to my cheeks. I go a little red. Well, probably quite a lot red. Every sinew now suggests I am guilty. A bead of sweat trickles down my arm.

3. Backwards Step. I want to hold my ground. I want to prove that it is not my proximity to the glass that has made the doors stop. But we’re not going anywhere. And every split-second that passes feels like a minute. There’s also another problem. I’m in a rush here. I really need to get to the gents. Suddenly my nerve is entangled in a battle of wills with my bladder.

4. Realisation. This is pain. This is physical and mental torture. And the only outcome is that I lose. Either I move, which just gives my revolving door companions even more reason to suspect I am the culprit, or I just stand there. And wet myself.

5. Decision. It’s not a hard one.* I move. It’s only a small step, but the significance of it is staggering. If I can paraphrase Neil Armstrong here, ‘It was one small step for Jon, a giant leap for the revolving door’s inhabitants.’. To everyone else this appeared as an admission of guilt. But deep down I don’t really care. Not now. I’ve come too far. And, like I say, I really, really need to get to the gents.

6. Handbags. No sooner have I stepped back though, that I encounter another problem. A lady’s foot. Just the toes, but enough to make her exasperate. I’m not doing very well here. I turn my head and apologise. She smiles wryly though I suspect it belies a wish for vengeance. For a second I am pleased I am stuck in a revolving door. There isn’t enough room to swing a cat in here, let alone her handbag.

7. Release. After what seems like hours – but in reality is probably less than five seconds – we are finally free. I make a sharp left for the toilets. I don’t look back. I just want to forget the whole sordid affair. I make it to the urinals without further alarm. But then someone stands next to me. And out of the corner of my eye I can tell who it is. It’s the man who was holding the hand of the woman who now has a bruised toe. Has he followed me in? I lose my nerve. I can’t bring myself to go. So I pretend to go. I count to ten before heading for the sink. And then I head out, to tackle the revolving doors once more. Only I use the normal door instead. Because the revolving doors are stuck.

*Which only goes to prove even more that I wasn’t touching the glass in front.

July 11, 2011
7 Reasons You Should Not Try And Escape From Prison In A Suitcase

This is the second 7 Reasons post I have written today. The first, entitled ‘7 Reasons Harry Potter Was Plagiarised*’, will sadly never see the light of day. I lost my nerve when I discovered JK Rowling has a habit of suing people for defamation. It’s a shame really because I had some wonderful insights for you. Harry Potter stealing John Lennon’s glasses for example. And JK Rowling herself stealing the name of Jamiroquai’s lead vocalist. It’s also a shame because I’ve written about hiding in suitcases. And, I’ll be honest with you, it’s not very good. You can stop here if you want? Up to you.

Oh, hi. Thanks for sticking with me. Don’t say I didn’t warn you though. So, yes, today’s piece is about a suitcase. You may have seen the story this week about a Mexican woman trying to smuggle her husband out of prison in a suitcase. They nearly made it too. They got as far as the main door. In laymans terms that’s about as far as Big X got in The Great Escape. It was a foolhardy attempt. Here’s why.

1. Suffocation. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell you there isn’t much oxygen in a suitcase, but I asked one anyway. And this is what he said. “There isn’t much oxygen in a suitcase.” So there you have it. From a rocket scientist himself. If you get in a suitcase, you might die. And escaping from prison in a coffin is not quite the same thing.

2. Pain. Only four kinds of people can get into a suitcase. Babies. And not many babies go to prison. Dead people. And not many dead people go to prison. Contortionists. And not many contortionists stay in prison – they usually escape through the bars. And finally, idiots. Only an idiot would get into a suitcase. And a desperate idiot at that. Get into a suitcase like this guy above and you will not walk again. You will have to roll. Which means you can only go down. To get home each day you will have to wait 24 hours for the earth to spin on its axis.

3. Reliance. Once you get in a suitcase you are very much reliant on other people. Now I have never got into a suitcase, but if it’s the same as a post bag I know you can’t open them from the inside. Especially if someone has attached a padlock. As popular culture has shown, things go wrong in prison breakouts. Either your accomplice is killed or they turn out to be working for the police. Or both. If you’re going to get into a suitcase, you must, must, must do your background checks first. And even then I would advise just walking out of the gates as most in the UK seem to.

4. Left Luggage. If you do make it out of the prison, you can’t just get out of the suitcase in the car park. That would be silly. Instead, you have to wait until you reach home. Which means you’ve got to get home. Now, if your accomplice is your wife – as it was in suitcasegate – or your husband, or another family member, or a friend, this is dangerous. Except on prison visits they probably won’t have seen you for a while. You’re not a big part of their life anymore. I am sorry to say this, but they have probably started to forget about you. Which is why they may well forget they’ve got you with them. It’s only after they watch the bus drive off that they realise they’ve left you on board. Who knows where you’ll end up? Probably Wandsworth. That’s where most buses end up.

5. Expense. Perhaps, though, home is further away than a bus journey. Perhaps you need to get on a plane. Not a problem if you’re going with British Airways. A major problem however if you’re going with Ryan Air. The £1 seat may have looked bargain when you booked it, but now it’s going to cost you £2,000 in excess baggage.

6. Solo. So far we have assumed – fairly it has to be said – that you have an accomplice. But what if you don’t? What happens if you just climb in a suitcase and hope? Exactly, you’ll be a person in a suitcase. Hoping. And prison breakouts don’t come to those who get in suitcases and hope.

7. Storyline. There are many great films and many great books about escaping from prison. Some based on real events – Escape From Alcatraz, Colditz, Le Trou – and some not – The Shawshank Redemption, Cool Hand Luke. In none of these did anyone try to escape in a suitcase. Why? Because you can’t film inside a suitcase. It’ll just be dark. And it you want 90 minutes of staring at darkness you may as well just switch the TV off. Or go to Great Yarmouth. If you are going to escape from prison, dig a tunnel. Or build a rocket. At least that way there is a chance someone will turn your exploits into a major motion picture. Otherwise it’s just a waste of time isn’t it?

*It clearly wasn’t. Calm down.

July 7, 2011
7 Reasons it Must Have Been Terrible to Celebrate Your Wedding Anniversary in the 1930s

In the 1930s it was decided (presumably by purveyors of gifts) that there weren’t enough things associated with anniversaries and a more comprehensive anniversary gift list was created. Fortunately for contemporary celebrants of anniversaries, since then the list has been modernised. This is no bad thing as I’ve seen a copy of the original list. Here are seven reasons that it must have been terrible to celebrate your anniversary in the 1930s.

1. Wood. On the original list, the fifth anniversary is wood. This is rather fitting for the era because, after five long years of marriage, the celebration of their fifth wedding anniversary may well have been one of the last occasions that a married couple got wood. Rather mean to remind them of that though.

2. Willow/Copper. The ninth anniversary is a terrifying prospect. According to the BBC (they who must be believed), after nine years you get the willow/copper anniversary. The only feasible combination of willow and copper that comes to my mind is a policeman with a cane. Imagine your surprise and delight when you sit down with your wife and she says, “Happy anniversary darling, here’s a rozzer to beat you with a stick.” That doesn’t sound like too much fun to me. Perhaps it was more fun back then.

3. Aluminium/Tin. Times were clearly hard in the ‘30s and though your tenth anniversary present would be an improvement on the previous year’s beating, it wouldn’t be much of one as you’re likely to be presented with something in a tin or in an aluminium can. This can mean only one thing: food. But in the 1930s people didn’t have normal food, they had weird food: tins of tongue; tins of luncheon meat; tins of potatoes. Is being presented with a tin of tongue even any better than being beaten by a policeman? Well, should you have had your anniversary in the 1930s, you’d be in a great position to judge.

4. Ivory. After fourteen years of wedded bliss – assuming you’d recuperated from your beating by the forces of law and order five years previously and eating your tongue the following year – it was time for the real presents to begin. For your fourteenth anniversary, you could have expected to receive something without which no home is complete; a bit of an elephant. Obviously your gift wouldn’t be in the form of a bit of an elephant, it would be a bit of one of those useless lumbering creatures from the other side of the world turned into something far more practical, like a letter-opener or a cruet set.

5. China. For your twentieth anniversary you would have received the best gift of all, after which all other anniversary presents would come as an anticlimax. For your twentieth anniversary you could expect to receive the nation of China. Now China back then was war-ravaged and in the economic doldrums, rather than being the titan that it is now, but still, a whole country is an impressive gift. All anniversaries after the twentieth would be a huge disappointment.

6. Pearl/Ivory. After thirty years, while modern couples are receiving their first diamonds, couples using the traditional anniversary list are in for a rare treat. They can expect to relive that fondly remembered fourteenth anniversary on which they received a bit of an elephant only now, as if the bit of an elephant weren’t enough of a treat, they can expect it to be augmented by a bit of calcium carbonate that had been stolen from a fish. Yay!

7. Blue Sapphire. After sixty-five years of marriage, the compilers of the list clearly believe that senility will have kicked in because you’re going to get a sapphire again, but this time it’s going to be a blue one (which will be so much better than the beige one you got for your 45th). “Look darling”, your husband will bellow into your ear trumpet, “I bought you a blue sapphire…it’s blue!”. “Well, fancy” you’ll respond, “a blue sapphire. Well I never! Are these my feet?”

And now, I have a confession to make: tomorrow is my wedding anniversary (and my wife’s). I’m not going to tell you which one, but you might be able to guess, as this is what I’ve got her. Feel free to wish me luck!

July 6, 2011
7 Reasons Not To Have Sex With A Penguin

Yesterday, we showed you some of the search terms that people have used to find our website but, as is often the case, no sooner had we posted that piece, someone discovered our website in a new, and not entirely unalarming way. Someone in the Netherlands (thus confirming at least one national stereotype about the Dutch) found our website by entering the search term “what to do if I had sex with a penguin”; a search for which we rank number one on Google. Now, we have no idea why we rank so high for this search term, it’s not as if the team spend their days thinking about – or writing about – having sex with penguins (until today) but, seeing as we rank so highly, we feel it is our duty to tell people not to have sex with penguins and to point out that it is wrong. Here are seven reasons why.

1. They’re Hard To Get Hold Of. I’m not thinking of the technical difficulties of having a dalliance with a penguin, you’ll be pleased to note – though they do look slippery – but more about their scarcity. In the UK, they are rarely seen in our waters which means that, for the casual penguin-fucker, the most likely place to find a partner is a zoo. Because of this, if you wanted to have sex with a penguin, you’d have to break into a zoo at night. If successful, you’d run the risk of being eaten by a lion and if unsuccessful, you’d face a very interesting conversation with the police, a series of eye-grabbing headlines in the local paper and a rather high level of public opprobrium.

This would be bad.

2. They’re Hard To Get Hold Of II. Or, you might decide to save yourself a breaking and entering charge by committing the act at a time when the zoo is open. Now, as a new father, I’ve recently begun to develop a fear of answering difficult questions from a growing son with an enquiring mind but, I have to admit that nothing I have thought of so far fills me with as much dread as the question, “Daddy, what’s that man doing to that penguin?” That’s the sort of question I definitely intend passing on to my wife. And I’d also prefer to be addressed as Father, but most of all, I’d prefer not to be put through it in the first place.

3. It Would Be A Backward Move. Penguins – though they might be confused with fish by the unaware and…well…me* – to the rest of humanity, are birds. But surely (and I’m sure we’re all grateful for this) no one in this country has had sex with a bird since the heyday of On The Buses in the mid-1970s. There’s no way we should start doing that again, that would be a backward step. Nor we should we address anyone as “Love”, though that’s a different post.

4. You Are A Man. Men shouldn’t have sex with penguins because if, as a result of your inappropriate interspetial intercourse, you should sire any progeny, you are in for a big shock: While fathers of human babies can usually get away with changing about one in three nappies and don’t have the equipment to feed a human baby (so can be pretty hands-off) as the father of a penguin you’ll be expected to go to the South Pole and balance your offspring on your feet for months. That looks tedious and you’ll miss a lot of cricket as you stand there with all the other penguins hoping not to get eaten by a polar bear and looking at the snow.

5. You Are A Woman. As a woman, should you end up bearing the child of a penguin you’ll…actually, I don’t believe that any woman has, at any point, ever considered having sex with a penguin. I just refuse to believe that women are that weird. Obviously I’m still open minded though so, if you are a woman that has considered having sex with a penguin, please let us know via the comments section. We want to hear from you.

6. Black And White. Penguins are in black and white and – for the most part – no one has sex in black and white, that’s just not the British way of doing things. Look at Brief Encounter: a mannered depiction of repression, subsumed emotion, inhibition and tea at railway stations. That’s in black and white, is there any sex in it? Hell, no. Want to take a penguin for tea at a railway station? Fine, that’s your business. Want to have sex with a penguin? Well you can’t. It’s not how we do things.

7. There’s No Future In It. When seeking prospective long-term partners, not smelling of fish is high up the list of things that people look for in a mate. There are other things that are up there on the list of desirable attributes too: Not having a beak; not having flippers; not having webbed feet (except in Dorset); not walking like a penguin in fact, not being a penguin are all right up there. In a game of Ideal Mates For Humans Top Trumps, the penguin card would be the one no one wanted to be saddled with. And if you were dealt a hand that contained both the penguin and the Ryan Giggs cards, you could pretty much abandon all hope of victory.

We don’t do eighth reasons around here but if we did, we would offer you this piece of information that comes to us courtesy of writer, solicitor, giant and friend of 7 Reasons, Richard O’Hagan. He tells us that under (the rather brilliantly numbered) section 69 of the Sexual Offences Act 2003, having sex with a penguin is against the law. I briefly thought I’d found a loophole, but it seems that even though penguins can blow, that’s precluded in section 78. So it’s not just logic that says you shouldn’t have sex with a penguin, it’s the law too.

*They can’t fly, yet they do swim and they’re often chased by killer whales, how is that not a fish?

July 4, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Glastonbury Rocks

Last week we had Luke Glassford on the 7 Reasons sofa suggesting Glastonbury wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. At the end of his piece you may remember that he said he was looking forward to the counter-argument. This week we have it. Stepping up to the plate and batting for the other side (you know what I mean) is Adam Robinson. And here are his seven reasons why, actually, Glastonbury rocks your socks off.

1. One Man’s Junk Is Another Man’s Junk. Don’t worry about litter or what to do with those ironically named disposable barbecues. When the festival ends, the farm opens its gates again for more partying but there is no music. They are here; armed with refuse sacks and a whole lot of enthusiasm, to clean the place up, field by field. They are like a swarm of bees. Nay, they are like vultures feasting on the dying embers of the planets greatest party. But, to their credit, they leave no trace and they depart with a smile on their face. Their reward is the right to keep anything of perceived value that they find. Oh, and don’t pre-judge what might be of value. I saw a smiley chap skipping around trying to make a kite out of an abandoned tent. I think he was trying to fly home.

2. New Appreciation. As you anticipate the headline set from ‘that band’ that they spoke about on Radio 1, you leave the Pyramid Stage with all its colourful flags and TV cameras. You have an hour to kill and your nomadic instinct brings you to the Other Stage. You know that band that your sister likes? Well, they are five minutes into their set and they seem to have a certain presence. You see, Glastonbury is a place for great live music. You may not like their album. You may even ridicule your sister. But today you learned that a band that has a great live act is, well, great live. More discoveries await. You might pass on that headline act. They’re not even that good live.

3. Play It Again. Such is the draw of Glastonbury and all the kudos that goes with it that popular artists of yesteryear tend to make a rare appearance. Sure, it wasn’t the complete original line-up of Kool and the Gang this year but the surviving members have still got it and quite frankly, that’s not even important. The fact is, the younger audience will not have had a chance to see them before (or even heard of them) and the older audience might not have imagined they’d see them again. We are privileged. They may not be making a comeback and they may not have a one-off reunion concert planned at Wembley. But this is Glastonbury. How could they possibly refuse?

4. Toilets. That’s right. They stink and you have to queue for ages for the experience. But let’s face it; everybody has a memorable Glastonbury portaloo moment or a funny story to tell. I know I’ve got a few. Some too grim to share, some so funny I just love it when people say ‘so, how were the toilets?’ I get to tell them of the time when the smartass security meatheads drove over the pressurised toilet sucky pipey thingy thus covering their precious Land Rover in human ……er… poo. They deserved it and I laughed (and sneezed) for days. Glastonbury is about memories and I’ve got plenty that wouldn’t look out of place in a ‘Jackass’ movie.

5. Keep Your Eyes Peeled, They Won’t Just Be On Stage. The artists have come to have fun too. Why should they miss out? The most eagle eyed BBC cameraman will catch a fair amount of off duty singers and other such A-listers bopping around, singing along to their favourite bands. But, if you dig a little deeper, away from all the action for just a while, you might get to experience some real treats. The Banyan Tree, for instance, is a tent not much bigger than my living room. It wasn’t unusual, however, to witness the keyboard player from Death in Vegas jamming with an unsigned band before a crowd of about 25 people the night before his own set.

6. The Glade And Other Such Spin-Offs. Glastonbury Festival wouldn’t be such a global phenomenon if it didn’t promote diversity. It’s not all about hippies. Take The Glade for instance. So popular, it now has its own festival, thanks, in no small part, to its uniqueness. Okay, so you may have strolled past the Dance Tent and realised that there’s even a place for thumping bass bins and DJ’s at Glastonbury. But The Glade wouldn’t look out of place on a Star Wars set. Is it a field? Is it a tent? No, it’s a small, illuminated forest and the DJ’s ply their trade from the safety of a tree house. As you stomp around with the other druids whilst listening to Aphex Twin, you might actually feel like you have landed on Endor except there aren’t scary little creatures making funny noises. Wait, we’re listening to Aphex Twin.

7. The People. People come to enjoy themselves but not at the expense of others. Sure, there are big crowds but there’s no pushing and shoving and if you bump into someone, the chances are they’ll turn round and apologise to you. It’s like one big Glastonbury family sharing one special experience. If your ears need a break and you want to chill out, why spend half an hour looking for your tent when you can go and visit the Stone Circle or the Healing Fields. It’s peaceful there, man.

July 2, 2011
7 Reasons We Don’t Want To Go To The Tower

Loyal readers, the 7 Reasons team have an announcement to make. It looks as if we’ll be going away for a while. We don’t want to, but a combination of circumstances means that we might not have any say in the matter. Allow us to explain.

A long, long time ago, though in this galaxy – indeed, on this very website – we published a piece entitled 7 Reasons That Looking Like A Horse Shouldn’t Be A Barrier To Success. In it, we looked at how seven celebrities had overcome their rather equine looks to make a success of their lives, and one of the people we featured was Her Royal Highness, The Princess Royal. The piece proved popular, so popular in fact, that it now ranks rather highly on Google. As a consequence, if you go to Google and type in “Princess Anne looks like a horse” we’re the first thing that comes up for that search. We discovered this the other day and tweeted about it. We then forgot about it and got on with our lives. A day later though, we received this tweet from Princess Anne:

This was rather a rather unexpected development and also a rather unwelcome one. We’d rather not go to the tower, thank you, and here are (because it’s us and this is what we do) seven reasons why. Ma’am.

1. Familiarity. It breeds contempt. Now, this may come as something of a surprise to you, but we don’t hang around together very much. At all. In fact you can count the number of times the team have gone to the pub together on one hand. Captain Hook’s hand. And it’s probably this that has helped 7 Reasons run for as long as it has. Apart from that phase when Jon kept uploading jpegs instead of gifs and the time when Marc thought it would be a great idea to do Blowers’ t-shirts and then went away for the weekend, we have got on pretty well. The last thing we want to do therefore is end up in the same small, dank, dark, locked room with each other. We will drive each other mad.

2. Pigeons. We both have connections. We both have people who could break us out of the tower. However, given that it is unlikely that we will have access to Twitter in the Tower, we’ll need to employ a different method of communication to contact the Mongolian Navy. Being high up in a tower lends itself favourably to one method. The carrier pigeon. Only there are no carrier pigeons around the Tower. They are all far too scared of the ravens. And who has ever heard of a carrier raven? Exactly. We’re doomed.

3. Tourists. The Tower is open to the public, which means we are going to be on show to thousands and thousands of Japanese, American and German tourists every week. Not to mention all the Australians who make the trip over from Shepherds Bush. We are going to be publicly humiliated. It won’t be long before one of us snaps and shoves a long lens somewhere where the exposure don’t shine.

4. We Have A Viable Compromise. Princess Anne was probably a fine filly in her day, but that day was Thursday June 4th, 1969. She also wants to lock us in a tower. But that’s almost exactly the opposite thing to what we want to happen and we won’t go willingly. Our ambition has long been to be handed the keys to Pippa Middleton’s dungeon*, so we’re prepared to offer a compromise. Send us somewhere halfway between a tower and a dungeon, do something that’s halfway between handing us keys and locking us up and have it done by someone who’s neither royal nor common. So that’s the 7 Reasons team not locked up on the ground floor by Jennifer Aniston. That’s the sort of punishment we can take.

5. Republicanism. Prepare yourself for a shock, but it might surprise you to learn that half of the 7 Reasons team is (gasp) a republican that just doesn’t believe in monarchy. He also doesn’t believe in god, ghosts, fairies, goblins or leprechauns. But being in the Tower of London might have a profound effect on this. After all, if he were to see evidence of god, ghosts, fairies, goblins or leprechauns he’d be forced to believe in them. Not that he’s likely to see them in the tower, but he would be considerably more likely to see a monarch. He almost saw one as a child, but fortunately our queen is so tiny that all he saw was Prince Philip speeding past in the back of a Rolls Royce seated next to a large blue hat. You can’t play fast and loose with people’s belief systems, it’s inhuman.

6. Ravens. It’s not just the carrier pigeons and the Mongolian Navy that are afraid of the ravens. It’s us. Have you seen the things? They’re enormous wing-ed creatures with piercing eyes, razor-sharp beaks and plumage as dark and shiny as crude oil in a mirror. Plus they’ve got talons! And it’s not just out of fear that we don’t want to be near them. Being locked in a tower with someone who insists on bickering that it’s a crow, a jackdaw or a rook every time you spot a raven during your afternoon game of i-spy is a sure recipe for disaster. It would only be a matter of time until the answer to “I spy with my little eye something beginning with C”, would be “corpse”. Or cadaver.

7. It Wasn’t Us. When Jon sees a beefeater, his thoughts turn to steak restaurants. When Marc sees a beefeater, his mind turns to gin. What sort of monster would put these two – for the most part, harmless – men in an environment where they would be cruelly deprived of both of these things, yet constantly reminded of them? To quote Alexander Pope: “Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel?” To quote Oliver Cromwell****: “I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible you may be mistaken.” Because Princess Anne is mistaken. After all, it was Google that made us number one for “Princess Anne looks like a horse”, not us. She needs to lock Google in the Tower. Or perhaps the internet. Just anyone but us. Please.

7 Reasons may or may not return tomorrow.

*Fiancés of the 7 Reasons team: Marc wrote this**.

**Wives of the 7 Reasons team: Jon wrote this***.

***7 Reasons team: That will definitely work, well played.

****Perhaps unwisely.

July 1, 2011