Category: Top Posts

7 Reasons That These Proverbs are Nonsensical

1. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Birds are vile, horrid, cruel-eyed, pointy-beaked creatures that flap alarmingly. Why the hell would I want such a thing in my hand? A bird in the hand is a traumatic event. A bird in the hand is worth thousands of pounds in therapy. The proverb does state, correctly, that birds further away from me – in the bush – are of greater value than birds near me, which is true. But what it doesn’t do is stress the greater desirability of no birds in the hand. Or anywhere else. No birds in the hand are more valuable than anything.

2. A rolling stone gathers no moss. Motionless stones also gather no moss. As do shimmying stones, stones moving up-and-down, side-to-side, in uneven circles or dancing the fandango. Stones don’t gather moss. In fact, stones don’t gather anything. They just hang out in the garden or on the beach. Not gathering things.

3. A woman’s place is in the home. Really? But what if I want to use the internet undisturbed, mend bicycles in the kitchen, or break wind? Surely the presence of a woman would hinder me. Also, how would I have met a woman in the first place, if they were all at home? I wouldn’t. Unless I was related to them. Essentially, this proverb encourages incest.

4. Ask a silly question and you’ll get a silly answer. Okay then. I’m not going to dance with a cat this afternoon, what colour cat shouldn’t I dance with?

5. Many a mickle makes a muckle. Errr. Okay. You might also say that many a sparcus makes a sporcus, many a grungle makes a grongle or many a kadookle makes a kanookle. In fact, that’s better. I’ve improved it right there. Now people can say that for hundreds of years for no apparent reason.

6. Ne’er cast a clout till May be out. No beating anyone around the head until after May. Got it. Head-beating season runs from June to December. Couldn’t be clearer. Physical assaults to the head will presumably be frowned upon from January to May (inclusive).

7. Oil and water don’t mix. I’m afraid that BP have successfully disproved that. They have also been successful in eliminating a lot of birds, which helps with proverb one enormously. Well done BP. Solver of Bird Problems. Bloody Priceless. Britain’s Proud.

July 1, 2010
7 Reasons You Should Never Go To Wimbledon With Me

The following is based on a true story. Sadly.

It Looks Like Rain

1. Rain. That’s what you’ll see when you wake up. Loads of it. ‘Bloody typical,’ you will say, ‘every day at Wimbledon has been hot and sunny this year. Except today. When the roads are flooding’. You’ll then have to decide what clothes to wear. Which is never an easy thing to do. Skirt or trousers. Shoes or flip-flops. Bra or no bra. Okay, the last one was me. And I went bra-less. Once decided, we’ll then make our way to the station where we find the…

2. Car Park is packed. Not a space to be seen. We’ll leave the station car park and I will make you drive to all the places in the village that require permits to park. You don’t have a permit. I shall then helpfully ask if you’d ‘just like to go home’. You don’t. You have taken a days holiday for this. You suggest we go to another station where car parking exists. I agree. But on the way, we quickly check our car park of choice again. I step up to the plate and spy a space. You have to circumnavigate a bus and do manoeuvres that make a Rubik cube look simple, but you get in there. Sadly, by the time we have disembarked via the sunroof* we have…

3. Missed The Train. We have thirty minutes until the next one, but don’t think you are going to be getting bored because now you are going to use your female charms** and get the nice man at the ticket kiosk to find us the cheapest route to London. He needs to take into account that we have one Network Railcard that comes into use at 10am. It is now 9:15am. The train leaves at 9:36am. It’s a problem that makes him wish he had a Maths GCSE. He succeeds though and the rest of the journey to Wimbledon goes without hiccup. Well, actually, it turns out to be very pleasant indeed. I teach you how to do a suduko and you teach me that I shouldn’t make comments about pictures of women in bikinis. Sadly this is where it goes horribly wrong again. Once inside the All England Club, we will discover that we are too late to get on Court 12 where we would have been able to watch Laura Robson and then Monsour Bahrami and Henri Laconte. Disappointed, I will try and cheer you up by buying you a…

4. Hot Dog. Though it had another fancy name that I can no longer remember. But it was a hot dog. A sausage in a roll. That’s a hot dog. Unless it’s a sausage roll. But this wasn’t. It was a hot dog. And I’ve just bought you one. And I’ve bought myself one. We shall walk away towards the ketchup. Here, I shall ask you where my hot dog is. You say you don’t know. I’ve left it behind haven’t I? Yes, I have. I walk back to the hot dog vendor and as casual as it is possible to say, I say, ‘I seem to have forgotten my hot dog’. I feel a bit stupid. You feel a bit stupid about being at Wimbledon with someone so stupid. The sun has come out though, so we go off to…

5. Court 5. Here I shall select the seats furthest away from the action. Thankfully, you have a bit more common sense than I do, so after we’ve seen the British Junior – Oliver Golding – win, we move to a better location. Here we watch another British Junior – Eleanor Dean – win. Then comes the match we came to this court to see. Greg Rusedski and Todd Martin against Jonas Bjorkman and Tood Woodbridge. Greg Rusedski injures his quad and at 5-0 in the first set, the match is over. I am beginning to think that there is going to be a 7 Reasons piece in this. You are beginning to think you should never have come to Wimbledon with me. Later, you advance towards jazz music and the champagne bar. I follow you with my…

6. Tea and Bourbon Biscuits. I don’t get hints. You realise I don’t get hints – either that or I am not prepared to pay £117 for Champagne when I have – just two hours previously – splashed out £3.30 on a pathetically small ice cream for you. We leave. Ninety-minutes later we are back in the…

7. Car Park. There are only four cars left, but, unsurprisingly, given that I am with you, your car is still boxed in. You climb over the bonnet and in through the sunroof and I direct you through a 27-point turn to get out of the space. You are now in touching distance of home. Nothing else can possibly go wrong.***

*Might be a slight exaggeration, but you definitely do not get out of your door.

**This won’t work if you’re a man.

***Until I start singing ‘I’m Coming Out’ by Diana Ross. All because you told me Spain and Portugal were coming out after half-time.

June 30, 2010
7 Reasons It’s Awkward Travelling On The Train (With A Strange Man)

1. It’s Monday morning and I am on the train to London. It’s after 9.00am so the train is fairly empty. I have a a block of six seats to myself. We pull into Maidstone East. A man gets on. He could sit anywhere. But he doesn’t. He sits opposite me, one seat across. Why? Why did he do this? But worse is to follow. He says, ‘Good Morning’. I feel awkward. I know shouldn’t. I know I should just be able to say ‘Good Morning’ back, but it feels strange. A stranger saying good morning to me on a train. I mumble a ‘Hi’ back, feel a bit embarrassed and go back to my book.

2. It’s no more than five minutes later. I am reading, but I can sense the man is looking at me. I feel awkward. I raise my head. Sure enough he is looking at me. He sees my attention on the book has lapsed and takes his chance. ‘Good book?’ he says. ‘So far, it’s very interesting,’ I reply. We spend the next five minutes talking about Harold Larwood. (I am reading his biography). I say we talk about Harold Larwood. He does most of the talking. I pretend to look interested.

3. There is a lull in what was never a flowing conversation. I feel awkward. Is now the time I go back to my book? Or is that deemed rude? Am I now supposed to talk to this man all the way to London Victoria? The man looks towards the window. I see this as the opportunity I have been waiting for. I turn back to my book. And I vow not to look up again.

4. We arrive at London Victoria forty minutes later. We haven’t spoken in that time. I stand up and grab my bag from the rack. The man is still sitting there. What is he waiting for? I feel awkward. What do I do? Am I required to say goodbye? I think about it. In fact I am sure I am about to say it. But I don’t. I just look at him. And half-smile. And half-nod. And half-walk off the train. The other half ran.

5. I’m waiting on the platform for a Wimbledon bound District Line train. Suddenly, from behind a bloke who is no doubt sponsored by Pukka Pies, appears someone I recognise. It’s the man again. And he’s seen me. I feel awkward. Now what do I do? I didn’t say goodbye. Surely that means I don’t say hello. But we can’t just stand next to each other and pretend we are just two people who have never seen each other before. That would be awkward. He’s getting closer. But here comes the train! I feel less awkward. I get on the train. I sit down. The man sits opposite me. I feel awkward.

6. My stop is next. Parsons Green. Surely this man isn’t going to get off here. We have spent twenty minutes not talking to each other. But I haven’t been reading. I have mainly been looking out of the window. But the window is behind the man. So occasionally I’ve caught his eye-line. And I’ve felt awkward. What should I have done? Is he thinking the same as me? Or have I hurt his feelings? Have I made him think he’s boring? Parsons Green arrives. The doors open. I stand up, turn left and alight. I walk down the platform. I dare not look back. I know, I just know, that if I do, he’ll be there. I walk home and never look back.

7. I’m in the kitchen. I’ve just flicked the kettle on. I decide there is probably a 7 Reasons post in this. Something about feeling awkward on the train. I get my notepad out and start scribbling down what happened. I get six reasons done and re-read them. As I read it, I feel awkward. I feel awkward about feeling awkward. I also feel very silly.

June 16, 2010
7 Reasons That 7 Reasons Didn’t Appear Today

7 Reasons is owned and run by two men, Marc Fearns and Jonathan Lee. Outside of the weekends, they tend to – when not co-authoring posts – take it in turns to write for it. Today it was Marc’s turn. Despite being on holiday, he was confident that he could combine a trip to the North-West of England with writing. He was wrong. Here are 7 reasons that 7 Reasons didn’t appear today.

1. Hair. Being away from home exposes you to all sorts of new and exciting things. This morning, in a friend’s bathroom Marc discovered hair moisturiser. He had no idea what it was, and there were no instructions on the carton, but he felt compelled to experiment with it anyway. Even now, many hours later, he is still staring admiringly at his hair in the mirror, enthralled by its lustrous sheen.

2. Beer. Marc has consumed so much beer in the last few days that it has begun to affect his biological makeup. He has now mutated into the solid form of beer, which is bread. Could you type with toast soldiers for fingers? No, of course you couldn’t. Nor can he.

3. Technology. Marc hates Macs. He was staying with a friend who hates PCs. Marc’s friend was writing school reports, and was obliged to use a PC (the report-writing software doesn’t work on a mac). Because of this, Marc had to write his 7 Reasons post using his friend’s MacBook Pro. They were sharing a kitchen table. Unfortunately, the level of agitated technological incomprehension and frankly astonishingly vitriolic invective reached such a vociferous and sustained hubbub that a furious and wrathful god was provoked into smiting them both down. Forensic pathologists, having sifted through the ashes, have determined that the last words they wrote were:

4. The Hash Key. Where the hell is the hash key and why are they hiding it? I’m a grown man, I can be trusted to use the hash key responsibly, it’s not like I can start a war with it or…

And:

Bill Gates. F. Must try harder and why the fuck can’t I disable the trackpad!

4. Tradition. A dog ate 7 Reasons. It’s true, and if you can read this now you’re inside a giant dog. We’re fairly certain that he’s called Rex.

5. Cycling. Marc lives in a reasonably flat city and rides a fixed-gear cycle. Unfortunately, he hasn’t mastered the technique of stopping by locking the back wheel of his bike with his legs yet. With brilliant logic he decided that removing the rear brake from his bicycle would motivate him to learn this technique. He is staying in Bolton, a town riddled with steep inclines. The somewhat pensive-looking cyclist was last seen hurtling down a hill at a speed estimated to be in excess of 350mph. Onlookers reported that, as he overtook two lorries, a bus, three motorcycles, fifteen cars and a coach containing pensioners from Morecambe, he was heard to say, “crikey”. His current whereabouts are unknown and Bolton Police are too busy investigating reports of a meteor strike to search for him.

6. The Nautical Look. Marc was attacked by an angry mob of sailors, or women (he’s not sure which), who took exception to his observation that horizontal stripes were suitable attire for burglars, chavs and Beano characters but should never be worn by decent people: He was cast adrift with no access to writing implements, fruit or espresso. Which is pretty much the standard Bolton visitor experience, but in a boat.

7. Wrongness. It turns out that it has appeared today. Oh well, everyone can be wrong once a week. It’s Jon’s turn again tomorrow.

June 9, 2010
7 Reasons That The Nautical Look Is Objectionable

1. Saturation Point. Too much of a thing is never good – which is why I’m editing this with a hangover – and the nautical look is everywhere. It’s finally reached saturation point and now it seems that almost every woman in the UK is dressed as a sailor.  Now, there’s nothing wrong with women dressing as sailors, or anything else that takes their fancy, but that doesn’t mean that every woman should dress as one.  Wouldn’t it be nice to see some of them dressing in outfits without horizontal stripes and rope motifs? Perhaps as spacewomen or conquistadors. Or Minnie Mouse. Or just as themselves. Our high streets look like a production of HMS Pinafore at the moment.

2. Confusion. It’s confusing. Sailors are sailors: we can tell that by their uniforms and their weatherbeaten faces. Women are women: we can tell that because they smell nice and have soft hands. But the nautical look blurs the issue somewhat. Allow me to demonstrate using science…or maths (It’s definitely one of those things).

A Venn diagram which illustrates the inherent confusion caused by the nautical look.

3. Anchor. When choosing an outfit with a decorative motif, is it really wise to choose one that rhymes with wanker? No, it isn’t. Because people will take the piss.  Not having an anchor on your breast pocket insulates you from jibes and cruel humour. The same goes for not having a ship on your handbag.

4. The Next Step. Many women are currently dressing as sailors, but what if this fad takes a slight twist? What if sailors start dressing as women?  It’s confusing enough already, do we really need that?

5. Weather. Now I’m sure the nautical look would look fine and dandy when worn on the back of a motor-yacht moored in Porta Banus or Cannes. But it isn’t. It’s being worn in Manchester, where it rains all summer. And, unlike real sailors, people are wearing stuff that isn’t waterproof. I saw people attired in faux-nautical gear sheltering from rain in a bus shelter yesterday. They looked foolish.

6. Do It Properly. The nautical look is being done in a half-hearted manner. Wearing a stripy top under a blue jacket is lame. If you want to do the nautical look well, wear a tricorn hat, an eye-patch, a peg-leg, a hand-hook; carry a parrot around. Wear vast epaulettes dripping with gold braid and the full cuff insignia of an Admiral; accessorise your outfit with a telescope or a sextant. Ditch your umbrella in favour of a Sowester hat, oilskins and a life-jacket. Grow a beard. This woman demonstrates how to pull off the nautical look properly.

Or you could do what this man did and dress up as a mermaid before sinking without trace. That’s true dedication to the nautical look.

7. Paris Hilton. Paris Hilton’s a big fan of the nautical look. Paris Hilton’s also an idiot. Do you really want to dress like an idiot? I use Paris Hilton as a general guide to life. You can too. Whoever you are, whatever you’re about to do, ask yourself the question: Would Paris Hilton do this? If the answer is yes, don’t do it.

What an anchor.

June 7, 2010
7 Reasons That Monkeys Are More Advanced Than Humans

The Ascent Of Monkey

1. Discernment. Now I know that I’m generalising here about monkeys. I know that there are many different types of monkey and that they’re all very different to each other. But if you put a barbary ape and a baboon in front of me, I wouldn’t be able to tell you which one was which. And I’d be very scared. The baboon would know that it isn’t a barbary ape though, and the barbary ape would know that it isn’t a baboon. Thus, they are both more advanced than I am. And less frightened too.

2. Feet. Monkeys – some of them – have amazing feet, which they use every bit as adroitly and dextrously as they use their hands. Humans, however, do not. Human feet are almost unmalleable blocks of flesh and bone that are useful only for standing on and for kicking things. We can just about pick up a pen with our toes, but that’s it. Monkeys can hang upside-down from trees using theirs. I can’t. I fell on my head when I tried.

Show off!

3. Adaptation. The most advanced of animals evolve over time to adapt to their environs. Monkeys have developed all-over body hair that protects their delicate skin from the effects of the sun and also keeps out the cold. Humans, however, are less advanced and have to rely on finding or manufacturing artificial coverings to protect themselves with. There is evidence of some evolution – humans do have a small amount of body hair – but the stupid creatures usually remove it, mostly with primitive and dangerous tools that often cause them injury. Pillocks.

4. Social Position. The higher echelons of our society – Viscounts, Lords etc – live on vast country estates which we, the hoi polloi, finance by turning up in our cars and in coach parties to drive around their grounds and observe them in their natural habitat. Monkeys, similarly to the landowning gentry, also live on vast country estates that we finance by turning up in our cars and coaches to observe them up-close. Thus, monkeys have attained a higher social standing than most of the UK’s population. They’re also above the law, seemingly able to vandalise our cars with impunity.

5. Environmental Impact. Humans are still trying to decide whether global warming is man-made or naturally-occurring. The one thing that nobody’s proposing though, is that it is the fault of monkeys, who seem to live in an environmentally sustainable manner. Monkeys are also not responsible for other environmental catastrophes, such as the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, the Italian dioxin crisis, or the construction of Scarborough.

6. Geography. Like humans, monkeys work too. Their labour is primarily concerned with food and shelter. You don’t see troops of commuting monkeys though; they are clever enough to realise that life is a lot easier if you live where you work. People, on the other hand, often travel hundreds of miles to get to their place of work. They all do it at the same time and then spend their free-time complaining about it, often to me. They’re idiots.

7. Other Matters. Monkeys are not responsible for the McFlurry, mobile phones that play music through speakers, Jedward, Hitler, golf, tinsel, dancing, the A bomb, jigsaw puzzles, soap operas, the defection of Adrian Chiles to ITV or the Trojan virus that affected our website last Friday (sorry if you were inconvenienced by that); people are. Monkeys are clearly more advanced than us.

May 17, 2010
7 Reasons It’ll Be Great Under David & Nick

Yesterday I watched David and Nick in the garden. I don’t know about you, but I kind of liked it. I felt a sense of profound optimism. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I am deluded. Maybe my sense of profound optimism combined with my natural optimism has made me go completely loopy, but I think it might just work. I think it might just be great under Dave and Nick. And here’s why:

1. It’s In The Names. The meaning of David is beloved. The meaning of Nick is victory of the people. That sounds good to me. Incidentally the meaning of Gordon is large fortification. Which probably explains why it took so bloody long to get rid of him.

2. It’s In The Colours. Anyone who went to school and paid attention when they accidentally knocked over the blue and yellow paint bottles, will know that, when combined, they make green*. You know what this means. The environment. David and Nick are going to save us from Global Warming. Caroline Lucas must be furious.

3. It’s In The Hands. As luck would have it, David and Nick seem to favour opposite hands. As the above shows, David likes his right and Nick likes his left. This means of course that they have two spare hands that meet in centre ground. Genius.

4. It’s In The Hair. It may be May, but that means sod all in this country. The weather is still unpredictable/predictably rubbish. As I have pointed out, yesterday David and Nick were in the garden. The sun was out but it was chilly and a tad windy. Miraculously though, for forty minutes, their hair acted superbly. Not once did either of them so much as touch their coiffures. It was the kind of strong, stable hair that this country so badly needs.

5. It’s In The Wives. Neither Samantha or Miriam – that’s Mrs Cameron and Mrs Clegg if you are not on first name terms yet – seem particularly keen on the limelight. Which is good. Because they have a job to do. Run our country. Don’t be fooled, David and Nick don’t really know what they’re doing. And they are married men. Their wives tell them what to do. So for the next five years Great Britain will be run by a creative director and a Spanish lawyer. Mandelson and Campbell, eat your hearts out.

6. It’s In The Looks. It’s quite useful that they are called the cabinet because that is what most of them look like. And so they should. It’s brains you need in politics, not beauty. The last thing we need is for Theresa May to be distracted by a six figure sum to pose naked for Playboy or for Ken Clarke to get his braces off for the centre-fold of Cosmopolitan. Thankfully – for all our sakes – that isn’t going to happen. It’s going to be all work and no play for David and Nick’s boys. And girl.

7. It’s In The Logos. No one in the world has picked up on this yet. But that is why I am me and the rest of you do interesting things with your time. The Conservative logo is a tree. The Liberal Democrat logo is a bird. Birds like trees. It’s where they live. You couldn’t make this stuff up. If this coalition was destined to fail the Liberal Democrat logo would have been an axe. But it’s not. It’s a bird. And David has let it into his foliage. Bravo.

*Yes, if it is pure blue and pure yellow it would turn black, but that’s the point. It’s a coalition. All purity has been thrown out of the window.

NB: I might not believe all of the above nonsense.

May 13, 2010
7 Reasons These Opening Lines Are Not Classics

It is said that the following seven opening lines are some of the best written. I disagree. In fact I believe them to be vastly overrated. This is why.

1. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Pride and Prejudice. Jane Austen. 1813. I think one only has to look at the case of Sir Elton John to realise that this is not a truth universally acknowledged at all. Nor is it acknowledged locally.*

2. “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.” 1984. George Orwell. 1949. Bollocks. I suppose the sundial was pointing to half-past twenty-seven too.

3. “He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish.” The Old Man And The Sea. Ernest Hemmingway. 1952. If the old man doesn’t have the sense to move to a different location after eighty-four days then I fail to see how I am going to be inspired by his intelligence for the ensuing chapters. Nor his fishing technique.

4. “It was love at first sight.” Catch-22. Joseph Heller. 1961. Now I am a romantic. I know this because I have Notting Hill and Love Actually on DVD, but I can’t believe in love at first sight. Lust, yes. Nausea, certainly. But not love. This wasn’t love. It was just a deep attraction to this person’s physical appearance. I assume it was a person. I didn’t get beyond the line to find out. It could have been a new toaster. But even so, it wasn’t love.

5. “I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.” Dodie Smith. I Capture The Castle. 1948. I suppose I should have had an idea what to expect when I read the title. This book is about a drug addict. Who owns a large sink. Not for me.

6. “When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyifirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.” The Fellowship Of The Rings. J.R.R Tolkein. 1954. How the hell did this get made into a film? In fact, how the hell did it get made into a book? For two years I have been trying to get my book published and I can guarantee you my first line makes more bloody sense than this rubbish. The next 10,000 lines maybe not, but the first line definitely.

7. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” Charles Dickens. A Tale Of Two Cities. 1859. I don’t know whether Mr. Dickens is being hypocritical on purpose here or just can’t make his bloody mind up. Poxy fence sitters. I bet this was on the Liberal Democrats reading list in the pre-Nick Clegg days. It’s probably been replaced by something with a nice cover now.**

*This is not a subtle attempt to come out. I’m not coming out. Because I don’t need to. And that’s not because I have come out in the past. I haven’t. Mainly because I don’t think like Sir Elton John.***

**The Conservative Party’s book of choice is, Slaughterhouse-Five, while Labour’s is, The Catcher In The Rye. You can look up the first lines.

***So, to sum up, I’m straight.

May 5, 2010
7 Reasons That it Sucks to be a Psychedelic Penguin

1. Ostracisation. The other penguins won’t play with you, because you’re different, and penguins can be mean.

2. Confectionery. The manufacturers of Penguin bars won’t like you, because your colours would increase their printing costs and their accountants are all about the bottom line and are mean.

3. Spectacle. People may capture you and imprison you in a zoo, because you’re different, and people are mean.

4. Movies. Black and white movie-makers will shun you. This is because you eclipse their colourless show, and because they are mean.

5. Dinner. Killer whales will be able to see you more easily, and will eat you, because killer whales are mean (and greedy).

6. Decor. Interior designers will detest you because you will ruin their carefully planned colour schemes, and because interior designers are mean.

7. Poo. No one will want to step on your psychedelic poo. This is because poo -psychedelic or otherwise – is disgusting. They’ll know it was you that did it too.

Okay, who doesn’t want a psychedelic penguin?

*7 Reasons for grown-ups will return tomorrow.

April 30, 2010
7 Reasons That Shaking Hands Is Weird

Shaking hands is a well established custom. That doesn’t mean it isn’t a bit strange though. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Movement. We all know that the handshake developed as a way of demonstrating that the participants were unarmed (that’s the hand part). But what’s with the shake? Why do we move our hands up and down? Why don’t we move our hands from side to side or in a circular motion? Why don’t we jump up and down or stand on one leg? Why not dance the Hokey-Cokey or play the pat-a-cake pat-a-cake game – or am I thinking about Freemasons? Anyway, the up-and-down thing is odd.

2. Spouse. I once congratulated my wife for something or other (forgetting what for is probably the reason I’ve never been nominated for Husband of the Year) by very formally, and firmly, shaking her hand and saying, “Well done, Darling” in a plummy accent. Though funny, it was quite a strange experience. We’d been together for ten years by then and had never shaken hands before. She spontaneously erupted into giggles several times during the remainder of the day. She still thinks it’s one of the funniest things ever. If you want a weird experience, give your partner a firm handshake.

3. Women. Shaking hands with a woman is strange. Kissing a woman is not strange. That’s why I’m a kisser, not a shaker. Men – during their boyhood – are trained to shake hands: Women – during their boyhood – are not trained to shake hands and, consequently, they don’t do it well. I don’t know what women are being trained to do while they’re not being taught to shake hands. Possibly they’re being taught to smell nice.

4. Hygiene. I’m sure we’ve all heard various statistics about the amount of urine found in bar snacks. The urine gets there via contact with hands. Unwashed hands. The same hands that people want you to shake. Shaking hands is an exchange of urine then. Lovely. (There are actually very good reasons not to wash your hands in the men’s toilets at bars – mostly to do with having to touch the taps and the hand dryer. Here’s the rationale: If I thought my hands were dirty, what’s the last part of my body that I would touch with them? That’s right. And I’m not so inept that I ever piss on my own hands, so they don’t need washing afterwards. And I now realise that I’ve become distracted from writing about handshakes and am writing about my penis, which is not really how Jon or I envisaged 7 Reasons going: It’s more how I imagined psychotherapy going. So, anyway, back to handshaking…)

5. (…or not) Penises. While it’s on my mind: Men spend a lot of time touching their penises. Also, men shake hands a lot. So, when men shake hands, they’re touching penises by proxy. This is bad. Heterosexual men do not want to do this. In fact, direct penis-to-penis contact between two heterosexual men is the worst thing that can happen in the world: worse than anything that can happen in the Large Hadron Collider; worse than being eaten by a horse; worse even, than a day-trip to Whitstable. The proxy-penis-contact that comes about by the shaking of hands isn’t as bad as direct contact, but it’s definitely not a good thing. I may never shake another hand again after that thought.

6. Left-handed-handshakes. The Italian word for left is sinistra, it’s where we get the word sinister from. Obviously, in these enlightened times, we know that there’s nothing inherently evil about being left-handed. Handshaking with your left hand is a thoroughly bad thing though. The correct response to anyone who offers you their left hand is to take a step backwards, stare at their hand and think “git”.

7. Dogs. One of the first things most dog-owners train their dog to do is proffer its paw for a “hand” shake. Why? Why is this pointless exercise given priority over training them to use the toilet, teaching them not to chase cyclists or getting them not to stick their many-toothed-snouts into the crotches of terrified house-guests? Who the hell wants to shake hands with a dog?

April 28, 2010