Category: Top Posts

7 Reasons You Don’t Feel Like a Real Man

Society has a very rigid idea of what constitutes masculinity. Often, our definitions of what is masculine are rooted in the conventions and gender roles of the past, something which makes them unachievable ideals rather than anything tangible, or real, to aspire too. Despite knowing this though, sometimes you feel that you don’t quite measure up. Here are seven reasons that you don’t feel like a real man.

1. You use moisturiser. Using moisturiser doesn’t feel manly. It’s very good at keeping your skin soft and preventing the premature aging of the skin, but it’s not manly. I once moisturised my face, exited the bathroom (which my wife then entered) and tried to open the bedroom door. I couldn’t, as my hands were slick from the moisturiser and I couldn’t grip the doorknob. I was trapped outside the bedroom for five minutes. “This never happened to the captain of the Titanic”, I remember thinking, as I waited for my wife to rescue me. Real men don’t use moisturiser.

2. Facial hair. Real men – Victorian men – sported impressive and elaborate facial hair. Who, apart from Daniel Day-Lewis and Sebastien Chabal, can even grow such magnificent face furniture today? Certainly no one at this website – the best we can manage are a sparse ginger moustache and a slightly less sparse – but still bloody ginger – beard. Modern men also trim their facial hair too much. Real men have natural and wild facial hair – not prissy, neat goatees (and you should never, ever trust a man with a neat beard. Noel Edmonds has a neat beard). Real men do not have neat beards. Real men have substantial, flowing beards that are the same colour as their head-hair. Real men probably don’t even have scissors. In fact, real men probably eat scissors.

3. Coffee. Coffee is an amazing beverage and real men drink it. What real men don’t do, however, is go into Starbucks and order a venti soy-hazelnut-vanilla-cinnamon-white-mocha-choca-latte with caramel and an extra shot of espresso. Real men drink their coffee black, from tin mugs around a fire – or some sort of black-lead-coal-stove-thing with flames and a chimney – and the stronger and viler tasting the coffee is, the better. Also, real men don’t drink their coffee from cups – even if that is the only receptacle that fits into their espresso maker properly – and they don’t have a muffin with it. Not blueberry; not zucchini-walnut. Real men have no muffin.

4. Pain. Real men shrug off pain. Pain isn’t good – it’s er…well…painful – and it can be undignified. It especially hurts when you’re plucking the middle of your eyebrow to pluralise it. That sort of pain is reasonably manageable though. Real pain, however, can only dealt with by real men. I injured my knee last year (in a very manly way – up a mountain). The next day, when I woke up, it really hurt. As I climbed out of bed and put weight on it I suddenly – and quite unexpectedly – shrieked “I yi yi yi yi”, in the manner of Carmen Miranda. Real men don’t react that way to pain; Sir Ranulph Twisleton-Wykeham-Fiennes chopped his own fingers off with a fretsaw in his shed to save himself a six-thousand pound surgeons bill. I bet he didn’t shriek “I yi yi yi yi” like Carmen Miranda – or like anyone else. Never mind exhorting men complaining of pain to “man-up”, they should be told to Fiennes-up (I’m really hoping that will catch on).

5. Décor. You actually care about what the inside of your own home looks like and have an opinion about it too. You have even bought Laura Ashley toile-patterned sheets in both red and blue, because they look nice. Do real men care about soft-furnishings? Did Douglas Bader rearrange the cushions on his sofa and extinguish the scented candles before going off to beat the Germans without his legs? No he bloody didn’t. Real men don’t spend their time cocking about with flock-wallpaper and vases. Nor do they have a set of Le Creuset pans. Real men don’t even need legs.

6. Pets. Real men have real pets – parrots, cats or reasonably-sized dogs. What they don’t have are little dogs that you can put in a bag or rodents, budgies, rabbits, guinea pigs, chinchillas, snakes or fish. They certainly don’t have fish. You can tell a real man by the way he interacts with his pet. No real man names his pet Fluffykins or Pookles. Real men give their pets sensible names. Real men also address their pets properly, rather than clicking at them or making baby-noises. They address them as if they were a visiting chum:

“So Mr Prendegast, the sun has just passed the yard-arm, what would you say to a spot of brandy? What’s that Mr Prendegast? You’re a cat and you don’t drink brandy? Oh I see. Would you settle for some biscuits and a rub under the chin? I’m glad. There’s a good chap.”

That’s how a real man talks to a pet – like an equal. Real men don’t address pets as if they were idiots, or children. They don’t dress them up in clothes or put them in bags. The only time a real man carries a pet is when he wants to put it outside so that it can chase something. He certainly doesn’t give his pet chocolate-drops or a hug. Or give anyone a hug, for that matter.

7. You are a woman. Women don’t feel like real men. They don’t even feel like pretend men. They feel warm and soft. They sound like this:

March 17, 2010
7 Reasons to Paint Your Front Door Orange

1. Be unique. No one has an orange front door. Have you ever seen one? No, nobody has. Having an orange front door would mark you out as an individual – like wearing a pointy-hat or carrying a piano-accordion, but less embarrassing.

2. Annoy the neighbours. Painting your front door orange would annoy your neighbours. Their houses would be completely overshadowed by your own, which would become the dominant feature of your street. When giving directions to their own home, your neighbours would have to refer to yours, “You can’t miss it, it’s two houses down from the one with the orange door…”. They would seethe, inwardly, every time they mentioned it, and perhaps frown too.

3. View. Your house would have the best view of your street, as it would be the only one that you definitely wouldn’t be able to see the orange door from.

4. Visibility. Have you ever got drunk and become lost on the way home? I have. Not totally lost – I’m at home now, but lost enough to find myself on the other side of town at 5am heading in the wrong direction – possibly towards Budapest. With an orange door you’ll at least have a fighting chance: If you are able to find your street, you’ll be able to find your house.

5. Friends. It won’t just be you that can find your house. Your friends will be able to find it more easily too. They’ll come and visit more often. The exasperatedly-intoned phrase “I know it’s one of the ones down here on the left” would be heard no more and would probably be replaced with the phrase “Good god! There it is”. You’ll be more popular.

6. Drunk people. It’s a well known fact that alcohol lowers inhibitions, so your curiously coloured door would probably attract the attention of gregarious drunk people. This is great, as drunk people can be fun. They’re often generous and happy to share their tipple of choice with others, usually after declaring their undying love and friendship. So now your friends will come and see you regularly, and drunk people will visit you too, probably bringing beer with them. That’s a party. Woohoo!

Dutch People

7. Holland. It’s a well known fact that Dutch people are crazy about the colour orange, so you’d probably be inundated with your local Dutch population. Dutch people are fantastic. They’re tall, which is more space-efficient than being fat, and they speak many languages, making them brilliant at communicating with your friends and the drunk people at your constant house-party. Also, if the national stereotype is even remotely true, they will probably have drugs with them. And pornography. So, with the booze, the drugs, the drink and the porn, you’ll soon find that you aren’t just having a party, you’re having an orgy. In fact, you’re a bit like Hugh bloody Hefner*! And all because you painted your front door orange.

*Our legal team has asked us to point out that Hugh bloody Hefner does not have an orange door.

March 9, 2010
7 Reasons The New Radicals Should Have Done Their Research

1. Did the Captain of the Titanic cry? No he didn’t. In those days it was seen as a sign of weakness. Eye-witnesses have said he looked calm and in control. Which is quite impressive when you consider he had just smacked into an iceberg and ruined a brand new ocean liner.

2. One day I’ll go dancing on the moon. As good as You Get What You Give was, I doubt the royalties will get you to the moon. The Moon Bar in Nevada maybe, but not the moon. And dancing in gravity boots? By yourself? Seriously?

3. Someday we’ll know if love can move a mountain. No we won’t. We know now. It can’t. Only tectonic plates can do that stuff when they grind against each other rhythmically. And that is not love. It’s sluttish behaviour.

4. Someday we’ll know why the sky is blue. When light from the sun enters our atmosphere it collides with nitrogen and oxygen atoms. The colours with the shortest wavelength are scattered the most. Those colours are blue and violet. Our eyes are more sensitive to blue than violet. Thus we see the sky as blue. Next please.

5. Someday we’ll know why I wasn’t meant for you. You are a man. I am a man. You like girls. I like girls. It’s pretty straightforward.

6. I bought a ticket to the end of the rainbow. Don’t tell me, you also gave some recently orphaned Nigerian your bank details? You’ve been conned. You should pay attention to internet scams more.

7. Someday we’ll know why Samson loved Delilah. Well who doesn’t? After It’s Not Unusual, it is Tom Jones’ finest song.

March 5, 2010
7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Share a Bed With Me

Hi, I’m Marc. I’m half of the 7 Reasons team – the one with the feet. Some of you probably imagine that after a long day on the 7 Reasons sofa, in the manner of Laurel and Hardy or Morecambe and Wise, Jon and I put on our jim-jams and nightcaps and retire to the 7 Reasons bed for some hard-earned slumber. This is not true, please un-think it. The reality is, in fact, more bizarre than that.

I would just like to make it clear that today’s 7 Reasons post is not 7 reasons that you shouldn’t share a bed with our website, and it isn’t 7 reasons that you shouldn’t share a bed with Jon (you’ll probably have your own reasons for that), it’s 7 Reasons that you shouldn’t share a bed with me – sorry if that upsets any plans.

1. Reading. I read in bed. My bedtime reading matter of choice is often a large, heavy, hardback biography or a similarly weighty historical tome. Consequently, holding a book tires my arms – especially when I’m fidgeting (I do a lot of fidgeting) between positions. At some point I will use the nearest person as a book-rest – their head is the most practical place to rest my book as it is at my eye-level. I’m told that this is annoying.

2. Decapitation. I like to have two pillows to myself – one placed on top of the other. In my struggle to get comfortable/block out sound/block out light/keep my head warm/move into the night’s eighty-third position, I often place my head between the pillows. I find this position comfortable. If you wake up sharing a bed with me, you will briefly believe that you are sharing the bed with a headless man. This will startle you. Every time.

3. Radio. I listen to the radio in bed – BBC Radio 5Live’s Up All Night programme – it keeps me informed, educated and entertained while I am failing to sleep. This is fine until 2:40am on Wednesdays. That’s when Cash Peters is on. That’s when the sound of my (poorly) stifled laughter will wake you up. You will probably wonder why tears are streaming down my face; you’re likely to wonder why I’m biting the duvet (this is for your benefit, you’re welcome); you may wonder if I’m having a funny turn; you will definitely wonder if the spare bed is unoccupied.

4. Soft toys. If I should find a cuddly-toy in, or even near, the bed, I feel compelled to tuck it in. If you are not expecting to wake up flanked by a slumbering bear, a recumbent penguin, a sleepy elephant or a dozing handbag (I get confused in the dark), it can be quite disconcerting.

5. Curling. Not everything I do in bed is annoying. I often curl up into a tiny ball under the covers. This hampers my breathing somewhat, so I fashion myself a small air-hole in the side of the duvet and poke my nose out through it. This, I am told, is one of the cutest things in the world. And it probably is, right up until you try to move my painstakingly-positioned sheets. Then you’ll find yourself involved in a life-and-death tussle for control of the duvet. And I always win.

6. Experimentation. During the night many important questions will pop into my head, prompting me to experiment on the nearest sleeping person. What if I poke my finger in her ear? What if I blow in her eye? What if I drip water on her forehead? What if I tie her hair to the headboard and shout “Boo!?” What if I loudly mimic her breathing pattern for several minutes then stop abruptly? What if I coo like a pigeon and flap the top of the duvet around? The possibilities are limitless.

7. Sleep. Eventually, I will wear myself out and fall asleep. Don’t think that’s where the fun ends though. It’s then that I think up entire 7 Reasons posts that make no sense at all and get chased around the house by a horse. As I flee the dream-horse my legs will flail and I may emit noises – I might even say, “Crikey, a horse!” again. I have also been observed barking like a dog and trying to dig a hole in the mattress with my front paws…er…hands. I meant hands. By this stage, you may not know what time it is, but you’ll probably decide that it’s time to get up, which is great as I’d love a coffee.

March 4, 2010
7 Reasons The Voice Of The Tube Is Annoying

1. Fake Apologies. We Are Being Held At A Red Signal. We Apologise For The Delay. We? There is no we. You are a recorded voice. A recorded voice belonging to a woman who got paid to say it. No one who gets paid to apologise really means it.

2. Use Of Language. Alight Here. Who alights in this day any age? In fact who alighted in that day and age? No one alights. They hop off. Or jump off. Or barge past. Or miss their stop.

3. Vagueness. Alight Here For Museums. Any museum is that? I can alight at South Kensington for the Vatican City Tractor Museum can I? No, I can’t. I’ll tell you what I can alight at South Kensington for. That’s the Science Museum and the Natural History Museum and the V&A Museum. Tourists love me.

4. Stating The Bloody Obvious. Mind The Gap. A complete waste of oxygen this. We see gap, we avoid gap. We are not stupid. We do not have signs near rivers saying, ‘Use The Bridge’ do we? And doesn’t mind mean look after anyway? Why is it our job to look after the gap? If you ask me the gap seems perfectly capable of looking after itself.

5. Lack Of Consistency. So when we pull into South Kensington, we are told we could alight for museums. Although the Japanese don’t know what the museums are, it is quite useful information. When we pull into Embankment, we are told we can alight for ferries. Again useful. So why is it that when we pull up to Parsons Green, all we hear is, ‘The next station is Parsons Green’? Where is the additional information? Why shouldn’t people be told to ‘Alight here for Peter’s Fish Bar and the rather plush co-op’?

6. Out Of Touch. The voice of the tube is monotone. How the hell is it possible to sound just as cheery on a hot summers day pulling into Wimbledon as it is in the depths of winter in West Ham? I don’t want an impossibly happy voice telling me to alight at West Ham when it’s -5 and there is four foot of snow on the ground. In fact I don’t want a voice telling me to alight at West Ham full stop. It’s miles away from home and means I have got on the wrong tube. Again.

7. Lies. Change For The Circle Line? On a Sunday? I don’t think so.

March 1, 2010
7 Reasons That English Pronunciation is Difficult.

So, you want to learn English as a second language? Good idea. We’re here to help, so welcome to the 7 Reasons Language School. We’ll start things off simply, with a bit of pronunciation.

Lesson One: Pronouncing words that end with “ough”.

1. Through (throo). Okay, this is the first word you’ve seen that ends o-u-g-h. Now you know that “ough” can be pronounced “oo”. Simple.

2. Rough (ruff). You may imagine, based on the prior example that “rough” is pronounced “roo”. It isn’t, it’s pronounced “ruff”. This means that o-u-g-h is more complicated than you initially supposed. You’re probably thinking that “ough” must be pronounced “oo” if preceded by th, and “uff” if not preceded with th. That’s wrong, but we like your reasoning. Don’t worry, you’ll soon get the hang of it.

3. Dough (doe). Nope, it’s not pronounced “duff”, or even “doo”; it’s pronounced “doe”. That’s a third pronunciation of “ough” to remember. We realise that there’s no apparent pattern and that this English lark may be harder than you supposed, but do carry on. If small children can manage this, then so can you.

4. Plough (plow). Did we mention there’s a fourth pronunciation? I know it may seem a trifle excessive, but the English are aware that their language is sometimes illogical and impenetrable, and are tolerant of people’s attempts to learn it. We’re not the sort of people who will spit out warm beer and roll around the floors of our country pubs guffawing if you order a ploomans lunch. Oh no.

5. Lough (lock). Why is this word pronounced “lock”, but spelled l-o-u-g-h? Why isn’t it spelled l-o-c-k? Er…good questions. We’re not sure. Perhaps the Scots hate you too.

6. Cough (coff). Yes, that is a sixth way to pronounce the same thing. You may be thinking that learning Klingon would make more sense than this. It probably would, but then you’d have to converse about dilithium crystals and the climate of the planet Qo’noS with a man named Terry.

7. Hiccough (hiccup). What happened to “oo”, “uff”, “o”, “ow”, “ock” and “off”? Well, it’s now pronounced “up”. What do you mean you give ough? Come back!

February 26, 2010
7 Reasons It’s Dangerous To Drive A Golf Buggy Up The M4

1. It’s the M4. What sort of road is that to start on? Surely logic would dictate that you build up to it? B roads to A roads to motorways. And then you wouldn’t start on the M4 would you? It would go M1, M2, M3 then M4. Fail to prepare, prepare to get arrested.

2. Breakdown Cover. The AA and the RAC don’t provide cover for golf buggies. Which means if you get stuck between junctions you have got to push the thing bloody miles. That is not good news for your back.

3. Speed. Or should that be the lack of? A golf buggy, while apparently quite nippy zooming over the fairways, is in fact quite slow when placed next to the more roadworthy vehicle. Slow cars cause road rage. Slow golf buggies cause bent putters.

4. England Calling. So assuming you get on the M4 in Wales – which I understand is very feasible – you could well end up heading into England. There is nothing wrong with this of course – it is the greatest country in the world after all – but then you’d need to get back. And that means you have to pay the toll to get back over the bridge. What is so dangerous about that? Well quite a lot when the barrier crashes down before you have managed to get your foot on the accelerator. Golf balls everywhere.

5. Weather. If there is one design feature the standard golf buggy lacks, it is windscreen wipers. Oh, and a windscreen. If it starts raining or snowing you are not only going to freeze, but you will also struggle to see. And no, goggles do not help. If you end up stuck in a field you should think yourself very lucky.

6. Beverage holders. There aren’t any. Another epic design failure. The chances are if you are driving a golf buggy up the motorway you have somewhere to go. As we have already established you are not going to be going where you want to go very quickly and you are also going to freeze to death. The sensible option in these circumstances is to buy a hot drink and hold it between your thighs. That’s a health and safety issue right there.

7. Lights. Unless you have stolen a top of the range model, there aren’t any lights on the front of your buggy. Which means you are going to have to use the torch facility on your phone. This of course means you will be driving one handed with a mug of boiling soup between your thighs and a Police car roaring up the road behind you. In such circumstances people have been known to panic. Panicking makes you do rash things. You might chuck your phone under a lorry or something.

February 16, 2010
7 Reasons Owl City’s Fireflies Is Nonsense

1. “You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies, lit up the world as I fell asleep.” Ten million fireflies? Seriously? Do you know how difficult that would be to organise?

2. “’Cause they’d fill the open air, and leave teardrops everywhere.” Erm…if a firefly cried it would just put itself out. In fact it would probably drown itself. Logic fail and animal cruelty in one sentence. Classy.

3. “It’s hard to say, that I’d rather stay,  awake when I’m asleep.” Well of course it bloody is. Even the most accomplished of sleep-talkers struggle to say what they want when they are asleep. Most of them talk about cows.

4. “’Cause I’d get a thousand hugs, from ten thousand lightning bugs, as they tried to teach me how to dance.” No, no and no again. So that’s one hug from every ten bugs is it? How exactly does that work then? And what the hell happened to the other 9,990,000 fireflies? Oh, that’s right. They died in a teardrop suicide pact.

5. “A foxtrot above my head, a sock hop beneath my bed, a disco ball is just hanging by a thread.” What? What the hell is a sock hop? Is that the thing a newly pubescent boy uses eight times a night?

6. “To ten million fireflies, I’m weird ’cause I hate goodbyes, I got misty eyes as they said farewell.” Yeah, not just weird to fireflies buddy. Now stop being a big tart and grow a pair.

7. “But I’ll know where several are, if my dreams get real bizarre, ’cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar.” What is wrong with you man? You keep fireflies in a jar? Can’t you afford a lava lamp?

February 13, 2010
7 Reasons We Shouldn’t Try To Contact Aliens

This year is the fiftieth anniversary of SETI (the Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence). For half a century mankind has been broadcasting into space, trying to contact extraterrestrial life forms. Is it really a good idea to get in touch with aliens though? Here are seven reasons that we shouldn’t.

1. Size. Jimi Hendrix once said that he believed that aliens could be enormous, and that we would be like ants to them. As he put it, “You wouldn’t go miles out of your way to step on an ant-hill”. What if our communications are annoying them though? You wouldn’t go miles to tread on ants, but you might cross the living room to swat a buzzing fly.

2. Evolution. What if the aliens have evolved differently to us? What if they’ve evolved from insects or snakes? What if they have feelers on top of their bulbous heads? What if they’re descended from ear-wax? We’d find them repellent, that’s what. What if they came to visit us and they turned out to be 15 feet high spiders? Half of the world’s population would scream “Kill it! Kill it!” and the other half would take one look at them and think “Not bloody likely”. Do we even have a giant shoe?

3. Disease. Aliens are…well, alien. Humans would have no immunity to any diseases or infections that they would bring, and they would have none to ours. We won’t be able to cope with Venusian Flu of the eye and they won’t be able to cope with Herpes of the tentacle. Meeting aliens would be a bad idea for all concerned.

4. Dullness. What if the aliens are uncharismatic? Really boring? Catatonically, mind-numbingly, vapidly, monotonously Daily Mail dull? Do we really want to have an unimaginative dialogue with dreary spacemen? What if they’re like Vogons?

5. Defeat. What if the aliens are more powerful and more advanced than us? We can’t know that they’re not war-like and intent on universal domination. By trying to contact the aliens we could be guaranteeing ourselves a new world order. We could only hope that our new alien masters would be benevolent. Perhaps they’d be a bit subtler than going for out-and-out enslavement, preferring to conquer and rule us – they might even settle for a puppet-government. To head this, they would need to find someone innocuous and popular, with a good grasp of modern communication, whose covetousness and vanity would leave him open to their manipulation. Our new alien-overlords would probably install Richard Bacon as Earth’s puppet-leader. No one wants that – even him.

6. Beggars. Why would aliens want anything to do with us anyway? If they’re in any way more advanced than us we’d drive them round the bend. Whether It’s pestering them for technology to save our ailing planet, pestering them for accommodation when we realise that we can’t or pestering them to take David Gest back, we’ll be, at best, a nuisance, and at worst, a burden. We’re like the annoying neighbour that you try to avoid by pretending to be out. The aliens – if they have any sense – are hiding from us.

7. Madness. What if there are no aliens? Then the whole SETI programme will have been in vain. If there are no aliens out there then essentially we’re talking to ourselves. I’ve seen people that do that out on the street. They look a bit foolish and they say the silliest things – often about spacemen, ironically.

********************UPDATE********************

Since we wrote this article, Stephen Hawking has come out and stated his opinion on this subject. He agrees with us. We don’t know if he read this piece first or eventually – after considering these issues for a good while longer than we did – came to a similar conclusion by himself. We like to think that it’s the former.

January 29, 2010
7 Reasons You Know You Are Still A Child At Heart

1. Aversion to Pavements Part 1. There’s a wall a couple of feet high next to the pavement. That looks like a far more entertaining place to walk. Especially as it’s quite thin and so has an element of risk.

2. Aversion to Pavements Part 2. Cracks. They’re disasterous things to have on pavements. You must avoid them. Stepping on the cracks mean you lose the game. And the world implodes.

3. Your Colleague’s Computer. It looks quite inviting when he/she has gone off to the kitchen to make the coffee round. Especially the email account that is open. Wouldn’t it be funny if you were to send an email to that bloke in IT declaring love for him? Yes. It would be hilarious.

4. The Playground. Walking past it is hard work. It’s instinctive to have a quick look around and see who is in the vicinity. How you would love if it there was no one around? You so want to have one last go on the swings. Just to feel that rush again.

5. Children’s TV. Flicking through the channels whilst on holiday you come across Children’s afternoon TV. You smile as you remember the good old days of Grange Hill and Round The Twist and Mr. Benn. You change the channel but something is pulling you back. An hour later you are compelled to the modern-day Blue Peter, but can’t help thinking that it was so much better in your day.

6. Mannerisms. Giving high-fives and calling people dude and saying cool is still part of your everyday routine. And you do it because it’s a bit silly. And silliness is good.

7. Reach For The Stars. You are in a bar when something S Club 7 or Steps-like fills the air. You look at your friends and shake your head and bemoan why you keep coming to this place. Underneath the table though, you are struggling to prevent your foot from tapping and deep inside you are singing along. Loving it.

January 22, 2010