7 Reasons

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  • 7 Reasons We Will Not Publish Your Guest Post

    7 Reasons We Will Not Publish Your Guest Post

    This is not your usual midweek post. It’s more the kind of topic you would expect to read on Russian Roulette Sunday. Unfortunately, we just can’t wait until Sunday. This needs to be addressed right now. Before something really bad happens.

    7 Reasons We Will Not Publish Your Guest Post

    We don’t like to brag, but we get a lot of guest post enquiries. So much so that neither of us have had to make up an imaginary US-based doctor who likes paragliding for a long time now. The enquiries we receive generally tell us a lot about a person. And they tell us a lot about what we might see in a submission. For the last eighteen months we have made it our duty to respond to every single enquiry. Sometimes about two weeks late, but we do respond. The time has now come that this must end. Replying to enquiries such as the one below is a complete waste of time. A bad enquiry will almost always lead to a bad submission.

    The following email has been received a number of times, from a number of different people. It’s a template. Templates are bad. If you want to write for 7 Reasons, never ever use a template. Here’s why:

    Dear Editor of “7reasons.org

    1.  Greeting. We’re not so wrapped up in self-love that we expect every single guest post enquiry to come from a regular 7 Reasons reader.  As such we don’t expect the author to know the trials and tribulations of our lives – that we so aptly share on a daily basis. We would have thought, however, that if you were really keen to write for 7 Reasons, you’d at least have done a bit of research. Just maybe to find out who to address an email to. It’s really not that hard. We have a useful ‘About Us’ page and a very helpful ‘Contact Us’ page. Even if all you do is read the ‘Write For Us’ page, logic would surely dictate that writing Dear The Team sounds so much better than Dear Editor of 7Reasons.org. We’re not feeling the love with that.

    I enjoyed 7reasons.org and found it very interesting. The language used here is very easy to understand and in good language.

    2.  Charm Offensive Fail. This is patronising and doesn’t make sense. “The language used here is very easy to understand,” because we can write in sentences you mean? And what does, “in good language” mean? If you’d written, “in a good language” then at least we’d have known you rate English above French, but just to say, “in good language” is completely bemusing. Not even Marc’s enigma machine could decipher it.

    So I was wondering if you would be posting more articles on Contact Lenses(including brands & types etc.) if so then I would like to be considered as guest writer for your site. I would love to write on Contact Lenses for about 350 to 400 words.

    3.  We’re A Website. This is good, referencing previous posts makes us think you might just know what we’re about. But then you go and spoil it by suggesting you want to write “on contact lenses”. What sort of pen writes on a contact lens? Given that you’ll probably be able to fit a maximum of one word onto a contact lens, that’s a minimum of 350 to 400 contact lenses too. And one other thing. We’re a bloody website. Do we look like we accept submissions written on eyewear?

    The article will be exclusively written for your site and will be unique. And will not be published anywhere else.

    4.  Doubtful. That’s nice. Unfortunately, we’re not sure whether we believe you. The enquiry template you have used is far from unique. How do we know you haven’t got a 7 Reasons template?

    Thus resulting in majority of bangs to your site.

    5. Bangs! Excuse me? Between us we have over twenty years of experience using the internet. And we are pretty adept at it. We know about the front and back ends and we know that in worldwide web parlance a cookie is not something you can eat. What we have never come across though is the term ‘bangs’. We assume it means ‘hits’. But even then why are we only getting the majority? Where are the minority going?

    In return I would only accept an in link to my webpage.

    6. Demands. That’s a shame because we were going to offer you an elephant on a unicycle. We suspect you mean you’d like a link to your site somewhere in the post, but again, to get on 7 Reasons, it helps if you can write.

    Please let me know if you would be interested in allowing us to write a post for 7reasons.org.

    7.  Snarky. Are we interested in giving you permission to write for us? The whole ‘Write For Us’ page really indicates that you have permission to do that. It also, for those in doubt, indicates that we are interested in receiving guest posts. Perhaps our ‘Write For Us’ page isn’t clear enough for you? Or perhaps you’re just a plank? The thing is, we know what you mean here, but you’ve irritated us so much in the rest of your email that now we are just in the mood to be awkward. Don’t give us the excuse next time.

    So, in conclusion, if you wish to write for 7 Reasons do your research and make sure you can write. We won’t tell you again.

  • 7 Reasons It Was Inconvenient That The World Didn’t End On Saturday

    7 Reasons It Was Inconvenient That The World Didn’t End On Saturday

    Hello 7 Reasons readers!  It’s Monday 23rd of May, which can only mean one thing.  That the world didn’t end at 6pm on Saturday.  Obviously this has affected our plans somewhat as we didn’t prepare a piece for today just on the off-chance that we would be wasting our time.  This, it turns out, was an error.  Anyway, somewhat belatedly, it’s time to begin the 7 Reasons working week.

    Now, it would be easy to mock the poor, deluded fools who told us that the world was going to end on Saturday, so let’s do that.  Here are seven reasons that it was inconvenient that the world didn’t end at six pm on Saturday.

     

    1.  Marc Fearns.  “It’s Monday morning and I’m in my dining room writing.  I hadn’t planned to be doing this at all.  I was expecting to be hanging out by Piers Morgan’s fiery lake watching Glee while French people force-fed me raw sprouts and read the Daily Mail to me.  I was expecting to be wearing Crocs and an I’m With Stupid t-shirt.  I was expecting to be spending time with my brother.  The rest of time.  This is a right inconvenience.”

    2.  Robert Fitzpatrick.  Robert Fitzpatrick was also inconvenienced.  He’s currently a little bewildered.  Asked how he felt about events (or the lack thereof) he said, “Obviously, I haven’t understood it correctly because we’re still here”.

    3.  Keith Bauer.  Mr Bauer travelled from Maryland to California for the rapture.  As a demonstration of total conviction in Mr Camping’s prediction, he took a week off work for the end of the world.  Not just a few days, but a whole week, mark you.  After all, it was for the end of the world.  You can’t pack that into a couple of days or a long weekend.  That’s a week he’ll never get back.

    4.  Gary Vollmer.  “Judgment day has come and passed, but it was a spiritual judgment on the world”.  Ah, a spiritual judgement.  So it did happen then, just not in the way that it was predicted to.  Not in a way that was in any sense tangible or demonstrable.  Not in a way that anyone could remotely tell whether it had happened or not, except for Gary.  There has been a judgement but only Gary knows about it.  This is not Gary refusing to admit that he was wrong at all.  No one called Gary is ever wrong and especially not this Gary who is especially not wrong about the end of the world.  NOT WRONG.  No.

    5.  Harold Camping.  Harold Camping, the man that made the prediction in the first place, has not been seen since the end of the world and has “no intention to speak or issue any statement” according to a spokesman.  How he communicated this to the spokesman is unclear.  I prefer to imagine that it was via the medium of mime or that it took the form of an interpretative dance.  Perhaps he iced it on a cake or banged it in Morse code on the desk with his forehead.  We may never know.  According to his wife he is “mystified” and “somewhat bewildered” at the world’s failure to end.

    6.  Harold Camping.  And this isn’t the first time that this has happened to poor Harold. The blasted world failed to end in 1994 for him too.  That’s an easy mistake to make once, but when the world doesn’t end and 97% of its occupants aren’t eternally damned for a second time, you might start to feel a tiny bit foolish.  Oh well, cheer up Harold, third time lucky.

    7.  Everyone Else.  So the world hasn’t ended and another working week has begun.  There’s no chance of getting out of painting that spare bedroom, your next dental appointment or paying the gas bill.  We’re also going to have to carry on with all the joy, love, bliss, wonder, gratification and whatnot that characterises our human existence on this beautiful earth.  What an infernal nuisance.

     

  • 7 Reasons It Is Inappropriate For The World To End At 6pm Tomorrow

    7 Reasons It Is Inappropriate For The World To End At 6pm Tomorrow

    Disaster. The world ends tomorrow. So, in our penultimate 7 Reasons post – we’ll still publish a guest piece tomorrow morning – we take a look at the reasons why 6pm is a ridiculous time for it all to come to an end.

    7 Reasons It Is Inappropriate For The World To End At 6pm Tomorrow

    1.  Waste Of A Day. At the moment, as you may have noticed, I am not taking the demise of the World very seriously. That’s because I’m writing this the day before and the idea that I shan’t be writing 7 Reasons on Monday hasn’t really hit home yet. Tomorrow morning, when I rise to the Sounds of the Sixties, no doubt I will start worrying. I dare say I will be petrified. This is it. It’s all over. I had so much to do. There’ll be tears. There’ll be praying. And then there’ll be tea. And a whole lot of waiting. There is no point in doing anything tomorrow. What’s the point in shopping? Or DIY? Or writing my birthday list? There isn’t any. So I’ll just sit there and wait and be bored. What a waste. At least if the world had ended at 6am I wouldn’t have had to endure the slowest day ever.

    2.  Awkward. The problem with 6pm is that it’s that awkward time between coming home after being out for the day and going out for the evening. Those who don’t know anything about the world ending or those who have decided to stupidly ignore it, will be getting ready. And that means a whole lot of nakedness on display. When we end up in heaven or ‘the other place’ surrounded by naked flesh, where are we supposed to look? I tell you something, there will be many an argument in full flow come 6.15pm. “You were looking at that girl’s bottom!” “No I wasn’t. She just raptured in front of me!” “I didn’t believe that excuse last time and I don’t believe it this time. And will you cover yourself up! You’re embarrassing me.” “Oh, I’m embarrassing you am I? Look at yourself, you are the only one who put weight on whilst rapturing.” Yes, many an argument and many a divorce.

    3.  Indigestion. Many people will be cooking or thinking about cooking dinner when it gets close to 6pm. But what should we do? Eat and be prepared to get indigestion during the rapturing phase or miss our evening meal and hope something is provided at arrival when we reach our new destination. It’s a tough call. One we wouldn’t have had to make had the world been due to end at, say, 3pm.

    4.  Heineken Cup Final. This kicks off at 5pm. That means I’m not going to know what happens. Do you know how many hours I have put into watching the Heineken Cup this year? Dozens. Bakers dozens probably. And for what? Just so I know who enjoys their half-time oranges more. It is said that 2% of the population will be ‘raptured’ to heaven at 6pm. No doubt those who end up there will get to see the second half, but for the rest of us – and I rather suspect that includes me – will no doubt be faced with burning hell that is ‘So You Think You Can Dance Live’. That’s a hugely inadequate outcome and should it happen I propose we make an appeal (or overpower The Devil/Piers Morgan and steal the remote control).

    5.  Children. For a lot of young families, 6pm signifies the time at which the youngest members of the family are put in their cots for the night. Or, if you are eighteen and have parents like I, just put to bed. There is nothing wrong with that, especially if you have spent all day chasing them around. The evening is the time when you get to relax. Only tomorrow you won’t. As soon as baby Byron is sung to sleep, death will come knocking at the door.

    6.  Work. Some people, believe it or not, actually have to work on Saturday. As such they’ll be working tomorrow. What a day they’ll have. Wake up early, go to work, work hard, come home, world explodes. The forces at large could at least let them sit down with a beer first.

    7.  Plus This Lot. Given that this is the last proper 7 Reasons post we thought we’d celebrate life by opening this up and asking the 7 Reasons faithful why 6pm would be a bad time for them. Here are some of the replies. (It suggests only a few of our followers are bothered about the world ending. Fair play to them).

    Nick Barrow: “Because it’s my day off.”

    @rachel_simmo: “Because we’d only be half way through the Heineken Cup final! Surely they can put it back a couple of hours to 8pm?”

    @splex: “Dr Who wouldn’t have been on telly yet. Could you postpone the world ending until at least 9pm?”

    Sarah Ay: “Because we’d miss the Champions League final.”

    @rachel_simmo: “We wouldn’t find out what happens in Doctor Who! With Amy and the baby and the eye-patched nurse!”

    @Kateypotatey: “Because I wouldn’t have had time to finish my first glass of fizz/cocktail. 6.30 would be better.”

    @RugbyByDilbert: “I wouldn’t of sung happy birthday to my mate! #actofrevenge”

    Rob Lee: “Because I might be either batting or bowling at that time, and I’ll never know how I got on.”

    @kittyQ: “Because I am getting married next year to a 7 reasoner, that’s after Saturday, that means I won’t get to be the happiest kitty ever”

    Jack Pitts: “Bad? At least we won’t have to sit through Britain’s Got Talent anymore.”

    @RugbyByDilbert: “If the world was to end on Saturday, I wouldn’t have gone to the Waratahs game in Sydney (makes me sad)”

    @NellPlant: “I’d die a work and this would mean I would not be able to iPlayer Doctor Who when I’ve finished work.”

    @rachel_simmo: “We wouldn’t ever know if Birmingham City could manage to stay up on the last day of the season on the Sunday…”

    Richard O’Hagan: “Because (a) Marc would never get the website to work for a whole 7 days in succession and (b) the world would be deprived of the weekly spectacle of one of you accidentally posts a piece they meant to schedule for later in the week.”

    @kittyQ: “Kent play Sussex on Sunday.. I am hoping to go. I’ll get to see the signs I set up for print. If the world ends I won’t get to see Kent THRASH Sussex”

    Richard O’Hagan: “Because we would never get to read the second half of the Russian Roulette interview?”

    @rachel_simmo: “Plus my brother would only be a 21 year old for 3 and a bit days, not even a week being 21!”

    @RevdKathy: “6pm Saturday? The world CANNOT end before Doctor Who has aired!”

    *On behalf of Marc and myself, may I thank you all for reading 7 Reasons for the past 20 months. It’s been ace. See some of you soon. (I’ll bring the ball, you bring the bat).

  • 7 Reasons The News of the World Should Hack My Phone

    7 Reasons The News of the World Should Hack My Phone

    Breaking News:  Sienna Miller has received a payout of £100,000 in damages from the News of the World as compensation for hacking her phone.  This seems like a nice bit of business for her, but not such a good deal for them.  But I have a better one.  I would like to propose that the News of the World hack my phone as I believe it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.  Here are seven reasons why.

    1.  It Would Be Easier.  I don’t mind the News of the World hacking my phone.  I’ll quite happily consent to it (on my terms).  That means that you’ll have to spend a lot less time and money on skulduggery and post-hacking legal fees.  Sure, there’ll be less exposure if it’s legal, but the savings will more than offset the loss of free publicity.  And the News of the World will be able to stop reporting on the goings on at the News of the World every week, so your staff would be able to get out of the office and get some fresh air.  They’d like that.  You’d have a happier, healthier work force.

     

    2.  It Would Be Different.  The tabloid papers are full of stories telling us what celebrities are wearing on the beach and it’s always a bikini that reveals super sizzlin’ so and so’s superb post-baby beach bod/frumpy formerly fab actresses new-found flab/supermodel’s cellulite horror! (delete as appropriate).  I don’t own a bikini and display none of those things on the beach so would be a genuine point of difference for your paper.  Surely there are people out there that would rather see pictures of a man on a beach dressed in a shirt, jeans and a sensible pair of brogues cavorting with a bag of chips or pointing at a donkey.  I also make sandcastles.

     

    3.  It Would Benefit My Friends And Family.  And that’s important.  As a fellow practitioner of the Jonathan-Lee-Method-of-Telephonic-Acknowledgement, I too ignore the phone a lot, as I’m usually busy doing something else; often something to do with writing, babies or writing about babies.  This means that I can be quite hard to get hold of.  If you hacked my phone then everyone that calls me for information would be able to keep up with what I’m doing in your newspaper and there’d be fewer calls for me to ignore.  That would greatly benefit both my friends and the woman with the monotone voice that tells me how many messages I have.  She must be quite tired of it.

     

    4.  It Would Benefit Me.  I often don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or where I’m supposed to be on any given day and my life seems to be an endless whirl of almost-missed appointments and sudden changes of plan.  If my phone was hacked, I could read about what I was supposed to be doing that day in the morning paper.  That would be a big help.  That would save me from buying the diary that I never use once a year and it would save my wife from leaving notes stuck to the espresso machine for me to find in the morning.

     

    5.  It Would Be Interesting.  I’ll level with you: I know almost nothing about Sienna Miller.  She probably spends her time swanning about* in yachts and near red carpets in a gown; I just don’t care enough to find out.  I do, however, know loads about myself so it stands to reason** that I’m more interesting than Sienna Miller.  Who wouldn’t prefer to find out about the lifestyle of a York-based, tiramisu-obsessed father and humourist?  I visit quilt museums and send texts about the war.  That’s the sort of stuff that will really shift papers.

     

    6.  It Would Generate An Additional Revenue Stream.  About 60%*** of my voicemails are from people asking where I am, usually because I’m late or in the wrong place or forgot I was supposed to be somewhere because I didn’t write it down/have time to make a coffee.  With phone location and Google Maps though, it would be possible for a live Marc-location to be streamed on the News of the World website.  At any given moment readers could find out where I was.  I could find out where I was.  And where I’d been too.  I could also pretend to be a glamorous international gadabout by posting my phone to friends overseas. I’d like that, and the subscribers to the Marc-Locator, the Map-o-Marc, the Marc-o-Loco-Tron (I’ll work on the name) would doubtless find it thrilling.  I’d definitely subscribe.

     

    7.  I’m Cheaper Than Sienna Miller.  I’d quite happily settle for £50,000 to have my phone hacked by Rupert Murdoch.  For that, he can have the voicemails, the text messages, the live GPS location, the conversations with my sister about how to dismantle a travel cot and the pictures my wife takes of the cat when I foolishly leave my phone unattended.  At £50,000, I’m a bargain.   Hack me!

     

    *Free bonus link!

    **If we don’t subject this statement to a rigorous analysis.

    ***Made up figure: I’m not so dull that I spend my time cataloguing and categorising my voicemail messages.

     

  • 7 Reasons Blackout Blinds Are Surprisingly Effective

    7 Reasons Blackout Blinds Are Surprisingly Effective

    My wife and I are trying to train our child to recognise the difference between day and night at the moment and the latest weapon in our armoury is a blackout blind: a blind which prevents any light coming through the window.  This, we not unreasonably thought, would prevent our six-week old son waking up at 5am when sunlight streams through our East facing bedroom window and would help him get into a settled routine of sleeping at night.  So far, it has proved effective (after a fashion).

    a black gif.

    1.  Fitting.  As the member of the 7 Reasons team that is competent at DIY I envisaged that there would be no problems installing our blind, and I was almost correct. It was incredibly simple to fit, with only a bit of light drilling required.  And it was simple right up until the moment  – while I was balanced precariously atop a step-ladder – that everything went dark.  Not just dim, you should understand, but dark.  Preternaturally dark.  Darker than spending a dark night in the darkest room of the Prince of Darkness wearing a sleeping mask.  Darker than anything ever.  There was no light.  “Help!”  “Help!” I called until my wife came up the stairs and opened the door, flooding the room with light from the hallway.  “It all went dark”, I explained to a sceptical wife who couldn’t comprehend – or didn’t believe – that something as insubstantial as a piece of material could block out all light.  I climbed down from the ladder with my reputation for DIY prowess, if not my dignity, intact.

     

    2.  Baby’s Bedtime.  In the evening our son fell asleep before we expected him to and, rather than look a gift horse (or a sleeping baby, which is a very similar creature to a gift horse) in the mouth, we decided we would put him to bed right then.  We gingerly carried him up the stairs and swaddled him in his cot.  We began to sneak out of the room and paused to close the blind on the way.  Everything went black.  We couldn’t see a thing.  We partially raised the blind again so that we could find the light switch and turned on the light so that we could see the door and find our way out.  This woke the baby.  Bugger.

     

    3.  Mummy’s Bedtime.  Eventually, we were able to get our son back to sleep and, quite soon after, my wife snuck up to bed.  I have little idea what happened, but after a couple of minutes, from my position in the room below, I heard a loud bang, followed about thirty seconds later by the noise of the baby crying.  Then I heard the sound of my wife trying to placate the crying baby with a cuddly toy, before my parental selective deafness kicked in and I returned to what I was doing.

     

    4.  Daddy’s Bedtime.  Eventually, the baby became quiet again and, having spent the remainder of a fascinating evening reconfiguring the 7 Reasons W3 Total Cache plugin and our email servers*, it was time for me to go to bed.  I went up the stairs and changed in another room, so as not to disturb anyone.  Then I snuck across the landing into the bedroom and closed the door noiselessly behind me.  Where once there would have had been some residual light filtering through the blind to aid my navigation across the room, now there was none.  I knew roughly where the bed was though, and I took several tentative steps toward it before stumbling over something and letting out an involuntary scream as I lost my balance and landed in a heap on the bed.

     

    5.   “AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Shrieked a lump in the bed from beneath me as, in the pitch darkness, a screaming and unknown assailant pounced on her.  I groped around for the switch to the bedside light and, finding it quickly, turned it on.  I looked behind me to see what was on the floor.  “Are you drunk?”, the now slightly calmer lump in the bed enquired.  “I fell over an owl,” I replied.

     

    6.  “WWWWAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!” Said a tiny voice from the other side of the room reacting to the sudden light.  Eventually we were able to get him back to sleep.

     

    7.  Sleep.  I was unaware of what occurred during the remainder of the night.  I have since been told that the usual cycle of the baby waking up and requiring feeding and changing carried on unaltered by the loss of the light.  I was told that this morning when, after what I can only describe as the most blissfully tranquil sleep of my life, my rather tired looking wife shook me awake and informed me it was 11am and that we were going to be late for our lunch appointment.  “But it can’t be”, I replied, “It’s still pitch black”.

     

    So there you have it.  Blackout blinds do work, and you can use them to lull the unsuspecting into sleeping longer and later.  They just don’t work on babies.

     

    *I had hoped to watch a couple of episodes of Bergerac.  We sacrifice a lot for 7 Reasons.

     

  • 7 Reasons That 7 Reasons Almost Didn’t Appear Today

    7 Reasons That 7 Reasons Almost Didn’t Appear Today

    Hello, it’s Monday, Marc here.  There was confusion and something got lost in the confusion and other things didn’t happen and the confusion prevailed – and the confusion was all mine, by the way – and it was all my fault.  Here are seven reasons that normal service was interrupted by the confusion today.

    1.  I Forgot.  I just forgot.  I was awoken by screaming at 5am and I remember thinking two things: Firstly, “Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssseeeee, shut the fuck up!” and secondly, “I definitely posted yesterday, it’s not my turn, I can go back to sleep if my (extraordinarily loud) child shuts up”.  I was mistaken.  There was no way that anyone was going back to sleep and it was my turn, though I was too sleep-deprived/terrorised by a tiny person to realise that.

     

    2.  I Got Distracted.  Happy – in my own mind – that I had a day off, I dressed my son in traditional baby garb; a top with ships on it, blue bellbottoms, socks with anchors on them and a sailor’s hat.  I outfitted myself in a checked shirt, boots and jeans (essentially, we looked like a sailor and a lumberjack) then, ten minutes later, he peed everywhere and we both had to get changed (not to a builder, a cop or an Indian), but to a less flashily dressed baby and a now slightly nautical – and still a tiny bit damp – grown up.

     

    3.  I Relaxed.  I just sat about in the sun – it only appears very rarely in Yorkshire (so rarely that we point at it) and soaked up its rays.  Not only was it an unusual experience, it also dried the urine-soaked shirt that I was wearing quite effectively, without too much of a smell.  At that moment that seemed like something of a victory.  It’s nice to be dry.

     

    4.  The Health Visitor Came.  And she is lovely.  So lovely in fact that she complemented our son something rotten on his development and gave us such helpful advice that we invited her back in a fortnight to discuss my son’s belly button.  My wife and I actually got distracted by talk of the belly button.  I am sorry.  Please pity us for what I have become, we used to be interesting people.  We could, however, have discussed the belly button all afternoon.  Really!  Perhaps we did.  Well, at least for a couple of hours.

     

    5.  Eventually Our Health Visitor Escaped Talk Of The Belly Button.  I still had no inkling that it was my day to write and, in the afternoon, we strolled into town en famile.  We went to the Chinese supermarket.  Well, for me it was a trip to the Chinese supermarket to pick up noodles and sauces and things; for my wife it was a trip to the aquarium, to see the fishes and the lobsters.  Fortunately both are housed within the same establishment, so we both had a good time.  So did our son, though we don’t know which aspect he preferred yet.  Time will tell.

     

    6.  Then I Went To The Pub.  It wasn’t bath night and, as I still can’t feed our child much, I wandered off and spent a lovely evening in the local with some friends.   It was great.  Free from the responsibility of parenthood and reasonerhood I just forgot myself and had a great time.  I was even awake for most of it, which makes a nice change from my state at home at the moment.

     

    7.  Then I Arrived Home. I thought I’d check on how things had gone today, 7 Reasons-wise:  I soon found that there wasn’t a post; I checked the archive; I counted stuff on fingers and toes, and suddenly – with horror – I realised that it was my turn.  I can only apologise.  I mistakenly thought it wasn’t my turn and that I could somnambulate nonchalantly through my day.  I was wrong, it was, and I can only apologise dear readers.*

     

    *7 Reasons will return tomorrow, with the competent one at the helm.  Sorry.

     

     

     

     

     

  • 7 Reasons You Should Never Tickle A Penguin

    7 Reasons You Should Never Tickle A Penguin

    7 Reasons Not To Tickle A Penguin

    The other week this video was uploaded to YouTube. It is a hand tickling a penguin. We wish to advise viewers of a nervous disposition that the film contains disturbing sights and sounds.*

    I know what you are thinking. Absolutely shocking! This is an outrage! A penguin should never be tickled! We quite agree. There are a whole host of reasons why. But this is a look at the first seven:

    1.  Pain. You may think that is the sound of a penguin laughing. If you do, you’d be wrong. That is the sound of a penguin screaming. How cruel. I expect penguin ticklers such as the owner of the arm in this video also put live crabs and in boiling water and laugh when the crab starts whistling. It’s not whistling! It’s screaming. That’s why you should always bash its skull in before dropping it in the water. Much more humane. I would never advocate smashing a penguin’s skull in, but at least it’s quicker than tickling it to death.

    2.  Urine. Usually, when someone starts tickling me, I feel the need to visit the bathroom and relieve my bladder. This is most inconvenient, especially when I am on the bus. I know I’m not the only one. When that fruitcake went around tickling everyone on the number 14 there was a mad dash to get off at the next stop. If a penguin had been on the bus I dare say he too would have needed to hop off. So, if you don’t want a penguin to wee on your hand, don’t tickle him. Or her.

    3.  Fight. A penguin could slap you to eternity. And when you get to eternity it’ll keep slapping you. Those flippers aren’t just for swimming you know. Well, no, you probably don’t know. Unless you’ve tickled a penguin.

    4.  Sex. Apparently, tickling can be used as a foreplay technique. To be honest tickling myself has never done anything for me so I have never bothered. But for those of you who do find a good tickle pleasurable before practicing the art of baby making, what are you going to do if the penguin tickling gets you a bit horny? Are you going to be able to stop yourself? Having sex with penguin – with or without consent – is not just wrong in the eyes of 7 Reasons you know. It’s wrong in the eyes of the NSPCA too. And quite frankly, even if it was legal, having sex with a penguin in someone’s eyes is just a tad inconsiderate.

    5.  Emperors. Once you’ve tickled a penguin it’s very had to justify stopping. Are you just going to tickle baby penguins? Or female penguins? Or penguins in a zoo that you can tickle with Ken Dodd’s tickling stick? Where do you draw the line? Personally I would have drawn it at least thirty miles before Ken Dodd’s tickling stick came into view, but I’m not a penguin tickler. What would you do, for instance, if you were faced with an emperor penguin? Would you tickle it? An emperor? An emperor, let me remind you, is a monarch. A sovereign ruler. If I was to tickle the Queen I wouldn’t get away with it. If you tickle an emperor penguin, neither will you.

    6.  Role Reversal. Anyone who seems to think that tickling a penguin will entertain it seems to be forgetting something. A penguin is supposed to entertain you. By telling you a rubbish joke. Something along the lines of, ‘Why don’t you see penguins in Britain? Because they are afraid of Wales!’ That sort of thing. You then get to eat it. Tickling a penguin would make you look weird. And you might scratch all the chocolate off.

    7.  Psychedelia. That’s right. What happens if you end up trying to tickle the 7 Reasons psychedelic penguin? Or indeed a psychedelic penguin not related to 7 Reasons at all. I don’t know. I’ve read the first six reasons and so I know not to tickle a penguin. As a result I can only guess. I think it probably includes hallucinations though. Hallucinations that feature giant penguins trying to tickle you. That doesn’t sound good to me. So my advice is don’t go there. Keep sane and leave the psychedelic penguins alone.

    Right, I think that’s everything. As you were. Without the penguin.

    *Not really. It’s actually quite cute.**

    **Don’t read this until you have read the whole post. It sort of undermines our reasoning.

  • 7 Reasons That We Shouldn’t See The Photograph

    7 Reasons That We Shouldn’t See The Photograph

    Breaking news:  The world is debating whether or not to look at a photograph, and here at 7 Reasons we have an exclusive.  We have got hold of the picture that you should never, ever see, and we’re going to let you, our thoroughly grown-up readers, decide whether you want to look at it.  The 7 Reasons team have viewed this graphic image and it’s fair to say that we were somewhat taken aback.  In fact there was gasping and a bit of vomiting.  We’re going to post a link to the picture at the bottom of this post but before you go there, let us explain why you shouldn’t look at it.

    a red censored stamp on a black background

    1.  You Don’t Need To See It.  Would your life be improved immeasurably by viewing it?  No. Quite the opposite, in fact.  If you want to look at it, it’s only because of morbid curiosity.  You don’t need to see it, and your life will not be enriched by viewing it.  Trust us on this, we’ve seen it, and once you see the picture, you cannot un-see the picture.  It’s like Pandora’s box except it’s not Pandora’s box, it’s a box belonging to someone else.  Don’t look into the box and certainly don’t zoom in on it with your mouse.  The RSPCA don’t take that sort of thing lightly.  Don’t look into the box!

    2.  It’s Gruesome.  The image is bloody horrible.  It’s truly sickening to behold and it will haunt you until your dying day.  If you don’t want to see something so abhorrent that you might try to poke your own eyes out with a spoon* don’t look at it.

    3.  There’s A ‘Hole.  A big ‘hole.  Where once there was life, now there’s a big gaping ‘hole in the foreground; something vacant.  You really don’t need to see the ‘hole.  Viewing the ‘hole is a truly hideous and traumatic experience that you can well do without.  I would have been better off without ever having seen the ‘hole.  You will be too. Don’t look at the ‘hole.

    4.  It’s Puzzling.  It really is.  Imagine you’re a Viking and a blue cat wearing jeggings is explaining string theory to you.  It’s more confusing than that.  And you don’t get to wear a beard or one of those horny hats either.**  There is nothing in the world that makes less sense than this image***

    5.  It’s Graphic.  We don’t really know the circumstances under which the photograph was taken; perhaps it was hurried, we don’t know, and frankly we don’t want to think about it any further.  But there’s still a fire visible in the background and there’s flesh.  Much flesh. It’s apparent that the scent of burning flesh would have been strong when this picture was taken.  You don’t need to see that or even think about it.  In fact, stop thinking altogether.  It only leads to trouble.  Don’t think and don’t look at the picture.

    6.  Side-Effects.  We’re reasonably young and healthy here at 7 Reasons**** and we felt unwell when we saw it.  So we wondered what this image could do to readers with any underlying health problems and, even though we’re not real doctors, we’ve come to a conclusion via a process of wild speculation and abject conjecture: This image could kill.  And dying would be inconvenient as you’ve probably got things to do this afternoon or dinner plans.   Don’t look at the picture.  And don’t die.

    7.  Trust. Now we’ve put the link to the picture just below this paragraph and we’re going to let you decide whether to look at it or not.  But, before you make that important decision, consider this.  If you look at the image, you’ll be doing it for the wrong reasons as – and we’ve made this quite clear – it’s bloody horrible and you don’t need to see it.  We hope you’ll trust that the judgement of the 7 Reasons team in this matter is sound and that we have your best interests at heart.  So when deciding whether to view it, remember that if you choose to look, you’ll be letting us down and you’ll be letting yourselves down too.  Oh, and you should probably lock away your spoons.

     

    Here is the link to the image, don’t click on it.

     

    *Or whatever else you have handy, I don’t know why I assume that all 7 Reasons readers are equipped with a spoon.

    **If we do have a Viking reader, imagine you’re a Norman.  Or a Gerald.

    ***Except for the labels in baby clothes that say “Keep away from fire”.  Where do clothes manufacturers imagine that people store babies?

    ****When the health and age of the team is taken as a mean average.

     

  • 7 Reasons You Should Never Throw Away Your Left Contact Lens

    7 Reasons You Should Never Throw Away Your Left Contact Lens

    7 Reasons You Should Never Throw Away Your Left Contact Lens
    Jon had to get this close to see what he was doing

    1.  Replacement. I wear monthly disposable contact lenses. For those not in the know it means I can wear a pair for 28, 30 or 31 days before they automatically dissolve into my iris. Occasionally though, the lenses become irritating or torn before the 28, 30 or 31 day limit arrives. When this happens I get rid of them and put in a new lens. It makes sense. So yesterday when my left lens started irritating me, I threw it in the bin. I then went to bed. And I slept. Soundly. This morning I rose, showered and went to put a new lens in. And this is when I realised I really should have checked I had a spare left lens before I got rid of the irritable one. Because I didn’t. There was no lens. Not one. Zilch. Oh dear.

    2.  2006. England lost to Portugal on penalties and I broke my leg playing cricket. As far as I can remember those are main the highlights from that year. You probably still have visions of at least one of these. Something else happened in 2006 though. I bought a pair of glasses. You’d probably only remember this if you were my joint optometrist/stalker. The glasses in question can be seen above. Now, five years is a long time in eye years. Mine have deteriorated quite a lot and as such so have the minus numbers on my prescription. As a result, unless I am up very close and personal, I can’t see a bloody thing through them. The wise among you may question why I haven’t purchased glasses since 2006. Well, I have. It’s just that I sort of lost them. Twice. And losing stuff is an expensive hobby. Which is why I haven’t bought anymore since. So basically, I’m blind. I’m wearing these glasses but I’m blind.

    3.  And Scary. I don’t like me in glasses. Especially these glasses. I think I look like I am trying to look inside your brain. And I’m not. I’m really not. To be honest with you I’d probably struggle to find your head with these on. But I can’t tell everyone who sees me that I am not as scary as I look. If someone came up to me and told me they were not as scary as they looked I wouldn’t believe them. So how can I expect other people to believe me? Until I can get my eyes on a new lens I am going to have to look directly at the floor. At all times. If I can see where it is.

    4.  Vision Express. I don’t know much about other opticians as I’ve always been with Vision Express. For contact lenses at least. They’re a touch on the expensive side but they do offer added benefits. Apparently. And a free quarterly magazine which I last received in 2009. So I guess they could improve their service a bit. One thing they do offer is free replacement lenses if you accidentally tear one (or throw it in the bin). The two mile blind walk to the branch is somewhat frustrating, but at least you know you’ll be able to see on the return journey. Or at least you would be able to if Vision Express had the lenses you require in stock. If they don’t you have little option but to make the blind walk home. And no, you can’t get a bus. You’ll probably get on the wrong one. Or get in the cab of a fire engine. You might get lucky though, it might not be moving like the one I tried to get into was.

    5.  Irrational Behaviour. Now, I have never felt the inclination to rummage around in bins before, but that could well have been because I have never lost my sight before. That’s why you’d have found me in a bin at about 11am today. Or my hands at least. Don’t worry, there was nothing else in the bin apart from a tissue. And the packaging from a new pen. Hopefully you will have worked out by now that I was looking for my left contact lens. I found it. All crisp and brittle. In a move that would startle eye health experts the world over the lens is now sitting in cleaning solution in my desperate attempt to bring it back to life. And you know what, yes, I am going to try and wear it again. Because I’m a rebel. An irrational rebel.

    6.  Dishonesty. I wear my contacts every day. Except Sundays. That at least is what I tell my optometrist. Obviously, being a normal person, I wear my contact lenses every single day including Sunday and lie to my optometrist. Oh, don’t pretend you’re not the same. But now I’m not wearing contact lenses at all. Which means when I tell my optometrist that I wear my contact lenses every day except Sunday I’ll be lying about six days of the week. At least when I wore my lenses I was only lying about one day of the week. Throwing away my contact lens has made me dirty,

    7.  Time. Throwing away a contact lens destroys your day. Or, in this case, the next day. It’s now 2pm. Today’s 7 Reasons post should have been uploaded at 9am. That’s five hours ago. Trying to restore my sight – and so far failing – has taken five hours! That means I am five hours behind schedule. This means I will have to have my lunch at 6pm. And my dinner at midnight. I’ll go to bed at about 3.30am. And get up at about 11am. And the process will continue. Always. I’ll never post a 7 Reasons piece on time ever again. I’ll be late for my wedding. I’ll try and make a baby in the middle of the biscuit aisle in Tesco. I’ll end up in the wrong coffin. This is a disaster. Because I can’t see I am always going to be five hours behind the world.* And not just in the brain department. What a nightmare. What an absolutely hidoeus nightmare my life has become.

    *Unless I move to New York.

  • 7 Reasons That It’s Great to be Back

    7 Reasons That It’s Great to be Back

    We’re back!  We’ve been away and while we’ve been away things have happened and that was lovely.  But now we’re back, and it’s great to be back.  Here are seven reasons why.

    People jumping for joy

    1.  We’re Bigger And Better.  Since we’ve been away, we’ve grown.  Now we’ve come back bigger and better than ever.  Bigger because Marc has used the holiday to practice his eating, and better because…well, we’re bigger than ever.  More is more.

    2.  We’re A Force For Good.  Last week we did the Osama Bin Laden gag to end all Osama Bin Laden gags and now he’s dead.  Coincidence?  We think not.  There’s no telling what we’ll be able to bring about next just by poking fun at it.  We’re hoping it’ll be untold riches or a book deal or something, but if we inadvertently end global poverty, homophobia or Masterchef then so-be-it.  We make things happen.

    3.  We Keep France Honest.  Ever alert, ever vigilant, the 7 Reasons team (well, Jon, he’s nearest) is keeping an eye on France.  Now that 7 Reasons is back, there’s almost no Frenchist act of treachery or stupidity that you won’t get to know about.  You’ll hear it right here first.  It’ll be like being in Paris but with tea and no glass pyramid.  Unless you have a glass pyramid in your house which, on balance, would be very weird.  Why would you have one of those?  Why?

    4.  We Give You A Sense Of Purpose.  We post every day.  Without fail*.  So when 7 Reasons appears in the morning/afternoon/evening/at bedtime (delete as appropriate based on location/how slowly the team are writing that day) you know it’s a day.  And that it’s a different day to yesterday.  And to tomorrow, though you won’t know that until tomorrow is today, which is when a new 7 Reasons post appears.  Yay!

    5.  We Are Refreshed, Rejuvenated, Reinvigorated And Many Other Words That Begin With Re.  Before we took a break we said that we would come back more creative and so far today we’ve looked at the ceiling for a bit.  We’ve also come up with a new blog idea called Lunch Wars in which we post pictures of our lunches and Lunch Wars readers get to vote for their favourite.  It’s the ultimate lunch-versus-lunch death-match to the death; the most awesome epic sandwichy battle you’re ever likely to see; a titanic struggle of biblical proportions in which two sandwiches – two trained, honed butties at their physical peak – go head to head in colossal combat…

    6.  We Need To Do This.  Because the 7 Reasons team have wives and children and fiancés and parents and siblings and nephews and nieces and cousins.  And a friend.  And when we’re not busy reasoning here, we’re busy hanging out with them and talking about sandwiches.  And they need a break from us.  They’ve grown haggard over the last fortnight.  Haggard.  And they get very upset when their sandwiches lose.

    7.  We’re Shiny And New.  Look!  Look around**, we’ve revamped almost everything.  There’s stuff that lights up and stuff that moves and stuff that changes colour and probably stuff that stays still too.  And there’s some stuff over there.  Just look around and click on things.  You can’t wear them out (hopefully).  Go forth and look at the shiny-shiny.  We’ll be back tomorrow***.

     

    *With some fail.

    **If you’re reading this on your Kindle stop looking around.

    ***Today?