7 Reasons

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  • Pearls of Wisdom

    Pearls of Wisdom

    It’s Sunday.  This is Marc.  I was thinking last week (as I occasionally do) and something occurred to me.  I love writing 7 Reasons.  I also love dictionaries of quotation.  Wouldn’t it be amazing if I combined the two?  The answer was emphatically yes.

     

    I decided to fire up the Randomator (it’s up there at the top of the page where it says “Randomator!”) and harvest a few 7 Reasons quotes on various aspects of life and living.  Here – in the order that I found them – are some 7 Reasons pearls of wisdom on an array of topics.

     

    On sharks:  “In my 27 years, I believe I have sleep-walked only once. And even then it wasn’t a very exciting sleep-walk, I just went looking for the bathroom in the lounge. I couldn’t imagine doing that every night though. Which is what a shark has to do. Apart from it swims instead of walking. And it rarely ends up in my lounge.”

     

    On St Peter: “It is generally accepted that 156,000 people die everyday. That’s about one every 1.8 seconds. I don’t believe that Saint Peter has the stamina to sit there all day every day shouting out names. When does he sleep?”

     

    On Viagra:  “When a man takes one Viagra pill, his penis assumes the shape of the number 1 for a considerable time. Therefore, if a man takes seven Viagra pills, his penis must assume the shape of the number 7 for a considerable time. I’m not sure why anyone would want a 7 shaped penis – unless they wanted to make love to someone round a corner – so it’s probably the wrong number of pills to take.”

     

    On the Dutch: “Dutch people are fantastic.  They’re tall, which is more space-efficient than being fat, and they speak many languages…”

     

    On supermarkets:  “A supermarket is not a place for mankinis and it is certainly not a place for jogging in them. No one wants to see that while deciding what to have for dinner. Apologise. Immediately. And then cover yourself up with a parsnip.”

     

    On measuring time: “I have no idea exactly how long I was in the kitchen, but I do know that I had a ginger beard when I emerged from it.  I had one when I went in too, but I was definitely in there for a very long time.”

     

    On supporting England:  “My heart has sunk so many times I am amazed it’s not lodged somewhere around my groinal area.”

     

    On the pole vault: “…it’s a sport which involves physically exerting yourself until you’re panting and thrusting a long, rigid shaft into a box before you briefly soar heavenward and eventually end up lying sweaty and exhausted on a mattress with a horizontal pole.”

     

    On popemobiles:  “A popemobile is visible from quite a distance.  Even when there isn’t a pope in it.”

     

    On new planets:  “I want a planet that is 100% water. Not ice, water. I want a planet that looks like a sausage. Or, even better, a planet that morphs into a sausage from its 100% water state.”

     

    On Christmas: “When the children burst into our bedroom at six o’clock this morning and jumped up and down on the bed screaming “It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas!” we were very moved. We don’t know whose children they were, or how they got into our house, but we were moved.”

     

    On polar bears:  “If you do insist on dating a polar bear, then you have to understand one thing. You will never be able to use your bath again.”

     

    On flamingo farming:  “With the new flamingo farms, it will be possible to stumble across fields full of pink clusters of gangly birds – all year round.  This will brighten up the landscape no end, especially at sunset.  Countryside campsites will become countryside camp sites where you’ll be able to enjoy the countryside camp sight of intense pink colours in tents (pink coloured).”

     

    On the Sinclair C5:  “Always a bit annoying having to get out of your vehicle and push it up a hill isn’t it? Which is why the Sinclair C5 should have come with a tow rope. Or a map that just showed hills that went down.”

     

    On Annie Lennox:  “Annie Lennox has got a problem. If her heart keeps going boom whenever she walks into an empty room – and it has been at least 25 years since it started – she needs to do one of two things. Go to the doctors or avoid empty rooms.”

     

    On philosophy:  “If a butterfly beats its wings in a forest in China does a tree fall on a deaf person on the other side of the world?”

     

    On the French:  “The French have dainty little feet. It’s a well known fact, in my mind, that they spend 56% of their time in the bathroom moisturising their toes.”

     

    On Foursquare:  “foursquare iPhone App Would Like To Add Your Current Location. Jonathan Lee doesn’t. He is very happy doing some work at home without the whole of foursquare’s Jehovah Witness community knowing where he is.”

     

    On rhymes:  “They say that nothing rhymes with orange, but this doesn’t seem quite right to me:  Nothing rhymes better with puffin.”

     

    On candles:  “There are always candles on the table at dinner parties but no one knows why.  I don’t want to singe my arm hair every time I pour some wine or pass the salt.  Why would you want to put a fire on the table?”

     

    On Nelson:  “Fancy losing a battle to a bloke with one arm and one eye. Do you know how difficult it is steer a ship with one arm and one eye? That’s pretty lame France.”

     

    On parenthood: “There are toys everywhere.  And if you have children, you have to get rid of your toys and replace them with stuffed animals and pushchairs.”

     

    On Turkish barbers: “…a middle-aged man – shaking and hyperactive from far too much strong coffee – holding a cut-throat razor to your jugular and gesticulating wildly, millimetres from your face, while he asks you where you’re going on holiday this year?  Then he sets your ears on fire.”

     

    On ironing:  “There are only so many movements you can make with an iron – assuming you are doing the job properly anyway. Right to left or left to right seem to be the only options. I would love to do top to bottom, but whoever invented bras made it impossible.”

     

     

     

     

  • 7 Reasons Twitrelief Is For Twits

    7 Reasons Twitrelief Is For Twits

    Today sees the launch of Twitrelief, a fundraising event for Comic Relief. While I, of course, applaud anyone who spends time raising funds for good causes I can’t help but question what this event has to offer. In a nutshell, people can bid to have a ‘celebrity’ follow them on twitter for a bit. That’s it. A ‘celebrity’ will follow you on twitter. Now, maybe it’s me, maybe I’m cynical, but I just don’t get this celebrity thing. They are just people. Like you and me. So what’s the fascination? Wouldn’t you be happier having someone follow you who wants to read your views on Hob-Nob dunking technique? Judging by the number of bids already in, no you wouldn’t. But that’s really irrelevant. My real issue here is with what the Superfollow – that’s the reward – entails. It’s not much. Which makes all you bidders twits. Absolute twits. Here’s why:

    Red Nose Day Logo

    1.  Follow Duration. The ‘celebrity’ will follow the highest bidder for a period of 90 days, after which it is up to them whether they wish to continue following or cut the winner form their lives completely. Just imagine how this is going to make the bidder feel. The bidder won’t be able to concentrate for 90 days. All they will be thinking is, ‘Does Fearne Cotton think I’m interesting?’ And then on that 90th day you find out in the cruelest way possible. You slowly scroll down your followers list to see if she’s still there. Only a twit would put themselves through that anguish.

    2.  Retweet. Part of the package includes the ‘celebrity’ retweeting one of your twitter updates. Just one, in the 90 days. I have two problems here.

    One: Surely it goes against the purpose of twitter. The retweet function is for people to pass on things they find interesting, not for Alexandra Burke to retweet winning bidder Susan’s update, ‘gotta luv kfc! lol!’

    Two: If the idea of a ‘celebrity’ retweeting your update compels you to bid, you must be a very boring person. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. You are a very boring person who writes very boring updates. Boring updates that no one will ever want to retweet. Not even your own mother. That is why the retweet has become your goal. Your aim. It’s what you live for. The idea of someone retweeting your update thrills you. It’s like the yacht syndrome. I would love a yacht. The longer I go without one, the more I want one. And it hurts not having one. Still, at least I don’t write boring twitter updates. Boring 7 Reasons posts yes, but not boring twitter updates.

    3.  A Mention. The final part of the package is a mention in a tweet from a ‘celebrity’. What the hell do you have to bid for this for? Just get on twitter and send them a message. They might reply. If they do donate a fiver to Comic Relief. Why not? You would have spent £2,000 on it.

    4.  Added Bonuses. Thankfully some of the ‘celebrities’ have realised that just following someone for a bit is largely a pathetic reward. So they’ve added a few bonuses into the bargain. Some are quite cool. If you win Neil Tennant for example, you’ll also get his keyboard. Some though, are questionable. Ruby Wax for example. I have always found her questionable, but that has now been exacerbated by what she is offering in addition to the Superfollow. You get to watch her having botox. An event someone currently thinks is worth £102. What is wrong with you? Get some help!

    5.  Richard Curtis. ‘The Boss’ – not my words, theirs – is not even on twitter. But, he will join just to follow you. So let me work this out. He’s not on twitter so he doesn’t have any followers. Which means when he joins he will retweet your tweet to no one. He’ll also mention you in a tweet. A tweet that will be seen by no one. Apart from you and him. Between you and me, I think you’d be much better off paying all your followers 50p to big you up for the day.

    6.  Twittish Logic. I didn’t have to write this post. This post could have been called, ‘7 Reasons Twitrelief Is For Geniuses.’. But it’s not. And it’s not because I haven’t seen any evidence of genius bidding yet. All I’ve seen is twittish bidding. If you have a half a brain cell you should be able to work out that when the bidding page says, ‘this celebrity will become your new best friend,’ they are talking absolute bollocks. Of course they aren’t. They will follow you, do your retweet, give you a mention, then dump you. Which is why you must use the opportunity wisely. So here is a piece of 7 Reasons advice right from our hearts. Ignore who the celebrity is, concentrate on the numbers. How many people are they being followed by? Richard Bacon has the most followers by far. Nearly one and a half million. A genius would bid for him in the knowledge that he would generate more publicity for them. They wouldn’t, for example, bid for McFly who have just a meagre 120,000 followers. But being twits of course, McFly’s bid is over £500 and Bacon’s is £45. And he probably bid that himself.

    7.  Because 7 Reasons Are Not Involved And Quite Frankly We Offer A Better Package. That’s right, we reckon we are a much more attractive prospect than all those ‘celebrities’. And our package is bigger too. Which is why you can now bid for us. Just head over to eBay to bid on the 7 Reasons Non-Twitrelief Superfollow Auction. Rest assured we will give all proceeds to Comic Relief. Thanks for your support.

  • 7 Reasons That Question 17 is Frustrating

    7 Reasons That Question 17 is Frustrating

    This is Question 17 in the Individual Questions section of the UK Census.  It’s “intentionally blank” and will drive you slowly mad.  Here are seven reasons why.

    Question seventeen in the individual questions section of the 2011 UK Census

     

    1.  Why Is It Intentionally Blank? What is the intention?  Why?  Why? Why?  Why, oh why, oh why, oh why?  I had to go online to find out why.  Apparently it’s a question about the Welsh language.  But wait, I’ve seen the Welsh language and it isn’t invisible. And if it was then the answer would be blank too, so there’d be no point in asking the question in the first place.  And why would you just state that it’s been left intentionally blank?  Why not just remove it?  Is there some sort of nefarious purpose to it?  Should we don our foil hats before completing the census?  Should we be afraid?  I’m afraid.

     

    2.  It’s A Temptation.   While I was online I checked Twitter.  Which is where I saw this:

    A tweet from Twops Twips who used to be more the sensibly monikered Top Tips.

    Now there are some things that people should never ever see.  The insides of other people; anything to do with Harry Potter and daytime television are all high up the list.  But higher than that, higher than anything else, the absolute worst thing they can see is any sort of suggestion that they should draw a cock in a box on an official document.  Obviously that’s what they’ll want to do right at that moment, with every fibre of their being.  But they can’t because they’d have their tax raised or be sent to prison or something.  And that just makes it all the more of a temptation.  Essentially question 17 is a form of torture in which we are forced to wrestle our primal urge to undermine authority and officialdom by drawing a cock.

     

    3.  It’s Not Actually Blank.  It’s got words in it.  I can see them, they’re right there at the top of the box telling us that it’s blank.  But that’s a lie.  It’s the most blatant example of officialdom fibbing to us since Jeffrey Archer had any power.  It’s like a spoon that says “I am not a spoon”.  It’s not exactly like a talking spoon, I grant you, but it is in the sense that it is lying.  Badly.

     

    4.  It’s Not A Question.  The text above question 17 states that “This question is intentionally left blank”.  But in a similar manner to the age-old philosophical question (if a butterfly beats its wings in a forest in China does a tree fall on a deaf person on the other side of the world?) question seventeen gives us food for thought.  If a question isn’t a question is it still a question?  When is a question not a question?  What do you even call a question that isn’t a question?  It’s certainly perplexing.  It turns out that when a question isn’t a question it raises more questions than it does answers, but after a long, careful deliberation I can state with some certainty that: it isn’t; when it doesn’t contain a question; I don’t know; my brain hurts.  But it’s definitely not a question.  This further complicates matters.

     

    5.  Numbers.  After the lie about the question being left blank, they helpfully tell you to go to 18.  But question 18 isn’t question 18, is it?  It’s question 17.  Because the blank box with a fib in it is no more a question than I am an owl or a plant-pot. This means that the entire numbering system for the remainder of the census is incorrect.  Question 24 (which is actually question 23) says if you are aged 16 or over you should go to 25 (which is numbered 26).  But that’s not a question at all; it’s an instruction.  So question 25 is actually the 23rd question.

     

    6.  But Wait.  No it isn’t.  Because question 11 in the Individual Questions section isn’t a question either.  It’s also an instruction.  So question 25 is actually the 22nd question.  This means that all the numbers in the Individual Questions section are wrong from question 10 (which isn’t a question) on. I haven’t been this confused since…ever.  This is even more confusing than being married to a woman.  And less fun.

     

    7.  The Bastards! And the civil servants/bureaucrats/number crunchers/census-bastards haven’t just cocked up their own census.  They’ve buggered up the title of this post, which is now incorrect.  There are still seven reasons here (which is an improvement on Monday when I spent an hour trying to come up with a seventh reason only to discover that it was, in fact, the eighth and had to remove one) but this isn’t 7 Reasons That Question 17 is Frustrating any more.  It’s 7 Reasons That Question 17 Which Is Not A Question At All And Even If It Were It Would Be Number 16 But It’s Not And Furthermore It’s A Liar Is Frustrating.  I’ve read books shorter than that title.  I won’t even be able to fit it on Twitter.  Does our reader even have a screen that wide?  Right, census-mongers!  I’m drawing a cock in your blank box right now and I’m posting it back to you tomorrow.  On fire.

     

  • 7 Reasons to be…an Icetalian!

    7 Reasons to be…an Icetalian!

    I’ve often been told that I’m more Italian than English.  I like coffee, tiramisu and risotto more than I like tea, trifle and Yorkshire puddings; I like Fiat 500s more than I like Minis; I like sun more than rain; I like waving my arms around more than I like…er…not waving my arms around.  All the signs are there.  But last week I had a bit of a revelation.  As I was celebrating March 1st (and the end of my traditional February abstinence) a friend tweeted me.  March 1st is Beer Day in Iceland, he informed me.  That’s funny.  March 1st – the first day of the month that has my name at the start of it (this is Marc, by the way, not Jon.  The month with his name in it is Jonuary) – is my Beer Day too.  Perhaps I’m not just Italian, I thought, perhaps I’m part-Icelandic too.  Maybe I’m…um… an…Icetalian!  From Icetalia!  Even if I’m not, here are seven reasons that I should be.

    the flags of Italia and Iceland

     

    1.  What’s in a Name? Is there a cooler word than Icetalian?  Well, perhaps mantacular or shabazzle, but they’re only really words in my head.  If you stack Icetalian up against actual words that other people would recognise it comes out rather well.  It contains ice, which is an actual cool thing, and talian, which isn’t a thing at all, though it still manages to be evocative of Vespas and sunglasses.  If you’re an Icetalian you’re instantly cool.  It’s like being named Jet or Raffaela.

     

    2.  Cuisine.  Icetalian food would be the best fusion-cuisine in the world.  Italian cooking is already renowned the world over, featuring tiramisu, pasta, tiramisu, risotto, tiramisu, ice cream, tiramisu, bean stews, tiramisu and tiramisu.  In short, it’s awesome.  How, you’re probably wondering, can that be improved?  Well, Icelandic food consists of salted fish, salted lamb, more salted fish and some other salted stuff.  So essentially Icetalian cuisine would be Italian food but with more salt.  And salt, as we know, improves all food.  Has anyone with a tall white hat ever stuck a spoon in a pan and, on tasting the contents, said “Hmm.  I think it needs less salt”?  No, of course they haven’t.   Everything always requires more salt.  Even salt, probably.

     

    3.  Sightseeing.  What’s the most famous tourist attraction in Iceland?  No, it’s not Kerry Katona’s prawn ring, it’s the Icelandic Phallological Museum; that’s right, a whole museum devoted to the penis.  But Iceland’s a cold place, whereas Icetalia (which would have a more temperate climate halfway between that of Iceland and Italy) would be much warmer.  This would make the Icetalian Phallological Museum twice as impressive as the Icelandic one, even though it would have the same number of exhibits.

     

    4.  Expression.  Italians are a voluble and wildly expressive people who, in conversation, communicate as much with their gestures as they do with their words.  The people of Iceland, being rather more reticent Scandinavian types do not.  They prefer to emote by not expressing anything at all.  Ever.  Icetalians would be a happy and healthy blend of these two styles of expression.  If it goes right, they’ll be similar to the English and will express themselves in a physically moderate and understated way, and if it goes wrong then during conversation half of the average Icetalian’s body will remain absolutely, rigidly still while the other half will be an exuberant, wildly-flailing blur of expression that could resemble Riverdance: Officially The Stupidest Thing In The History Of The World.*  I’m hoping that it will be the former, obviously.  A land where people communicate with each other via the medium of Riverdance: Officially The Stupidest Thing In The History Of The World would be dreadful.  And deafening.

     

    5.  Venice.  I love Venice.  It’s bloody marvellous.  If they (whoever they are) were taking nominations for an eighth wonder of the world, I would nominate Venice.  But the Icetalian Venice would be even better, because it would be almost exactly the same as the Italian version, but with ice skating during the winter months and sleighs instead of gondolas.  And there’d be fewer American tourists because they’d fall through the ice.  It would be a true winter wonderland as well as being a summer one.

     

    6.  The Flag.  The Icetalian flag would contain the colours red, blue, green and white.  That’s all of the primary colours on one piece of cloth plus white, which is the colour of nothing when the lights are on.  It doesn’t contain black, which is nothing in the dark, but you can’t have everything.  Though with all of the primary colours, perhaps you can.  In any event, the Icetalian flag will clash with just about every imaginable outfit so nationalism will be kept to a minimum.  It’ll be a nicer place to live.

     

    7.  Names.  Icetalians would have better names than just about everyone else.  In Iceland, the tradition is that the first name of the father becomes the surname of his sons and daughters.  Thus the daughters of Gudmund Magnusson get the surname Gudmunsdottir, and the sons of Gudmund Magnusson get the surname Gudmundson.  Why this doesn’t lead to irresponsible people giving their children the first names Son and Alison, I don’t know.  Then, if their children did the same thing (any why wouldn’t they?), they’d end up with grandchildren called Son Sonson and Alison Sondottir. Within several generations, the Icelandic telephone directory would contain names likes Alison Sonsonsonsonsonsonsonsonsonsonsdottir and Son Sonsonsonsonsonsonsonsonsonson and would be visible from space.  It would be brilliant.  Why no one from Iceland had ever invited me to name anything I don’t know.  Icetalian names would also be amazing (and only slightly shorter).  Icetalian people would be called things like Ambrosiano Giordanoson and Ausilatrice Zoccolittosdottir.  This would make introducing people to each other much more fun and ink manufacturers would be the richest people in the land.  Oh, and this would also mean that school would finish at about the same time that the calling of the register ended, so teachers wouldn’t have to prepare lessons and children wouldn’t have to sit through them.  The people of Icetalia would be thick, but happy.  And work in my ink factory.  I’m moving to Icetalia, it’s going to be brilliant!

     

    *And now that I’ve mentioned it, how did Riverdance: Officially The Stupidest Thing In The History Of The World even come about?  Someone must have done it first.  Why didn’t other people just point and laugh at them?  And who the hell was the second person to do it?  Who, on witnessing someone clippity-clopping about like a deranged horse with a broomstick up their bottom and total paralysis of the arms and head, would think I want to dance like that person?  There is nothing about Riverdance: Officially The Stupidest Thing In The History Of The World that makes any sense.  At all.

     

  • 7 Reasons This Is Clearly Not A UFO

    7 Reasons This Is Clearly Not A UFO

    In the past two weeks Friday has been dedicated to writing about the Cricket World Cup. However, because we wrote about it yesterday – or at least about a dream – we are giving it a miss today. While many of our readers will be disappointed to read this, I ask you to think of our dedicated Polish reader who has no doubt been quite confused as of late. So, instead of cricket, we are going to write about UFOs. A subject that will be close to many people’s hearts if they read last Saturday’s guest post. You may well have heard that yesterday the MOD released 8,500 pages of previously classified information surrounding UFO sightings. Having stayed up all night to read through them I can safely say that some people in this country are officially bonkers. One depiction of a UFO that particularly caught my attention was this one:

     

    Here are seven reasons that this is not a UFO (and instead probably an entry to some Blue Peter competition) :

    1.  Label. The first giveaway is the label ‘normal corn crop’. May I ask, what other kind is there? An un-normal corn crop? A typical example of someone thinking too much. #Fail

    2.  Arrows. Let’s be honest, we don’t really need arrows to tell us which way up this should go? #Fail

    3.  Saucer. In some respects this is the biggest giveaway. As a rule, if you are drawing a picture of a flying saucer, the last thing you should do is draw around a normal saucer. And that is exactly what this person has done. They’ve got a saucer, turned it upside down and with a pencil drawn around it. #Fail

    4.  Design Features (i). Whenever you are making something up, you’ll generally take something you have seen or heard before and edit it slightly for your purpose. Now, I have never watched South Park, and I am suspecting the person who drew this hadn’t either. Somewhere along the line though we will have seen the character, Kenny. Which is why the weird looking yellow things on the top half of theUFO look just like him. Here’s the proof.

    5.  Design Features (ii). If in doubt, add a few windows. #Fail.

    6.  Design Flaws. The electric fans (possibly doubling up as propellers) on the side of the craft are different sizes. If you look closely you can see that the one on the right is slightly bigger than the one on the left. As a result, if this thing took off – an absurd thought I admit, it would start going round in circles. So not only would it not go anywhere, the alien inside would get dizzy. #Fail

    7.  Huh? I have absolutely no idea what this is supposed to be. The Sun? Mars? A tennis ball? An alien? Another UFO?

     

  • 7 Reasons Life Would Be So Much Better In Black & White

    7 Reasons Life Would Be So Much Better In Black & White

    This post needs no introduction, but I’ll give it one anyway. Colour is rubbish. Right, on with the reasoning.

    1.  Colour Blindness. Suffering from the disability myself, I know that a world without colour would make things much easier. Especially when it comes to my work as a designer. Never again would a client phone me up and ask why I have decided to turn their red logo a shade of dark green. I then wouldn’t have to apologise and spend hours redoing the poxy thing. Nor would I get a subsequent phone call from the client advising me that they are terminating the contract because I obviously thought it would be funny to send it back brown.

    2.  Dull Games More Exciting. There was a time that I used to like snooker. I was at school and it proved a more enthralling than doing my homework. These days though I have found my entertainment elsewhere. I like to prod myself in the eye with chopsticks for example. If snooker went back to the good old days when it was played in black and white though, I can imagine being positively horny about the prospect. What colour has he hit?

    3.  Wardrobe. The reason I have such questionable dress sense is because I just have so many colours to choose from. That’s my excuse anyway. If everything was black or white though I couldn’t possibly go wrong. I could wear black with white. Or black with black. Or white with white. Or, if I was feeling adventurous, I could replicate a pack of dominoes.

    4.  Embarrassing Clothes. Talking about dress sense, why is there always someone who turns up to the wedding looking like a twat? Either they are wearing pick shoes or a turtle-shell patterned blazer.Black and white would eradicate this problem immediately. And you wouldn’t need to store your photo album in the loft.

    5.  Sunburn. Another disability I suffer with, the inability to put enough suncream on regularly. Because of this I often find myself getting burnt. Mostly on the face and neck, but I have been known to get burnt somewhere near Maidstone before too. While a black and white world wouldn’t lessen the physically pain, it would certainly reduce the mental anguish. I’d probably have something of a grayscale face which would enable me to blend nicely into an urban world of roads, pavements and lampposts.

    6.  Cheaper. The reason living is so expensive is due in no small part to likes of cyan, magenta and yellow. Get rid of them I say. Let’s just have black with nothing filling in where one wants white. We’d save a fortune and

    7.  Decision Making. In a world that is black and white it would only make sense that there are no blured issues. We would automatically know right from wrong. We would know that tea is right. We would know that Janet Street-Porter is wrong. Life would just be so much simpler.

     

  • 7 Reasons That Social Kissing is a Minefield

    7 Reasons That Social Kissing is a Minefield

    I’m perplexed by social kissing.  I’m referring to non-sexual kissing here, the sort that goes on all the time on all manner of occasions and at every gathering.  I’ve been trying to make some sort of sense of it since 8:30 am.  On a morning in 1985. As an Englishman, I just find it all a bit fraught and overwhelming.  Anyway, here’s what I’ve got so far.  Here are seven reasons that social kissing is a minefield.

     

    This is bad. Even I know that.

     

    1.  Straight Men.  Social kissing, if you’re a heterosexual man, is fraught with myriad rules and conventions that must be strictly adhered to.  In truth, it’s a bit complicated.  As a straight man, you can kiss any unrelated woman socially, except for the Queen and ones that smell really bad and keep pigeons in their hats.  You can also kiss any related woman socially: mothers; sisters; aunts; nieces; cousins; in-laws; grandmas; that woman you’re told is an aunt but no one can remember how the family know her (she probably just latched on to them at a christening in 1974), they’re all fair game.  You can’t, however, kiss any unrelated man unless a) you are both professional football players in the act of celebrating a goal or b) you are more drunk than you have ever been in your life and it is your wedding night (I played the role of surprised wedding guest in this scenario, I don’t recommend it) .  Related men are simpler.  You can kiss both your father and grandfather up to the age of about twelve and you can kiss babies (but not excessively, and once they can walk unaided that has to stop or you’ll get a bad reputation).   Oh, and uncles should never really kiss anyone, ever.  All clear?

    2.  Straight Women.  The etiquette for straight women is more straightforward.  Heterosexual women can kiss any unrelated woman, also excepting the Queen (though they will kiss the smelly woman with a pigeon in her hat because they’re generally kinder than men).  They can kiss any related woman (probably including the Queen, should they be related).  They can also kiss all men (both related and unrelated).  In short, they may kiss pretty much everyone apart from the dead (and even then it’s acceptable for the first few days).

    3.  Gay Men.  It’s more complicated for gay men.  The same rules that apply to straight men kissing relatives apply to them but, in the case of unrelated men, things are a little different.  The football celebration exemption that applies to heterosexual men doesn’t apply to them, because there are no gay professional football players.  At all.  None. No!  But gay men can kiss each other socially (should they feel comfortable doing so), unless they are in a location where such activity may attract a crowd/mob.  They are also not allowed to kiss socially within the pages of the Daily Mail, unless accompanied by some sort of lurid headline about declining standards/moral turpitude/Britain’s going to hell in a handcart because we’re so against modernity that we won’t even put it in a metaphorical car.

    4.  Gay Women.   Exactly the same rules apply to gay women that apply to straight women, with only one important exception.  Under no circumstance can a lesbian ever kiss Justin Bieber.  That would just be too much confusion for anyone to bear.

    5.  The French.  Now, the French have their own unique approach to social kissing.  French men and French women (of any persuasion) can kiss absolutely anyone they like (except for the Queen and my writing partner, Jon), as long as they do it twice.  Once on the left cheek and once on the right.*  You can see this demonstrated at civil ceremonies throughout France as various mayors and civic dignitaries present medals for courage in the face of extreme paper cuts to postal workers and the highly-prized and hotly-contested croix de blanc, which is annually awarded to the first person  to surrender their town to any approaching army (or a passing traffic warden should there be no invading army available at that moment).

    6.  Transsexuals.  Okay, the rules are really blurred here.  But, as far as I’m concerned, transsexuals can kiss anyone they like, except for the Queen and me outside York Minster at midnight on New Year’s Eve 2004 just when I’m moving in to kiss my wife and am off-guard.  Yes, I concede that it would have been very funny had it happened in a sitcom or to someone else, but sadly it didn’t.  Oh, and when you’re saying, “I bet you didn’t think you’d be kissing a transsexual at midnight”, try not to do it in a tar-soaked scouse accent, because that just made it feel dirty.  Try it in lilting Irish next time, or a West country burr.  Then I’ll probably feel better about the whole experience.

    7.  Eskimos.  Eskimo kissing is weird.  I don’t know which Eskimos can kiss other Eskimos.  I also don’t know how Eskimo gender affects which Eskimos can kiss other Eskimos (or how they can tell what gender the other Eskimo is under all the layers of clothing and the furry hood).  I do know, however, that Eskimos aren’t Eskimos at all, they’re Inuits, Yupiks and Aleuts, but they don’t Inuit, Yupik or Aleut kiss, they Eskimo kiss (oh, and they don’t live in igloos**).  I’m sure it’s quite acceptable for them to Eskimo kiss other Eskimos (who also aren’t Eskimos) though, but probably not seals and definitely not polar bears.  Just as long as they don’t come and rub their faces against the rest of us without warning really, as it’s bizarre behaviour.  And by the rest of us, I mean me.  I seem to have enough problems with social kissing as it is.

     

    *If an English person says that you can kiss them on an additional cheek, they are insulting you.

    **Except for the ones that do.

     

  • 7 Reasons The Protection Of The Cornish Pasty Is A Jolly Good Show

    7 Reasons The Protection Of The Cornish Pasty Is A Jolly Good Show

    You’d be forgiven for missing this news, but yesterday the Cornish Pasty was awarded protected status by the European Commission. Or at least the term ‘Cornish Pasty’ has. It now means that a Cornish Pasty can only be called a Cornish Pasty if it has been prepared in Cornwall. So what? I’ll tell you what. With the help of the tried and tested 7 Reasons formula, here are seven reasons why this is brilliant news all round.

    Cornish-Pasty-Association

    1.  Employment. A) All Cornish Pasties will now be stamped with a Protected Geographical Identification logo. That’s a job for someone. B) All those who sell fake Cornish Pasties will have to hire designers to redo their menus and, in the case of ‘Glasgow Cornish Pasties’, their whole identity. C) Those who fail to adhere to the new legislation will be sued. This means more jobs for lawyers.

    2.  Tourism. I don’t have the facts to hand, but I reckon more pasties are sold each year at train stations across the country than actually in Cornwall. Or at least they were. That now will change. Instead of grabbing your pasty from London Paddington, you’ll actually have to get on the train and head down to the South West. And while you are there you may as well check out Tintagel and the Beast Of Bodmin Moor.

    3.  Pasty Wars. That pasty manufacturer in King’s Lynn who has been selling bogus Cornish Pasties since 1997 now has a wonderful opportunity. And that opportunity is to create the Norfolk Pasty. Come November we are going to see a pasty price war.

    4.  The CPA. That’s the Cornish Pasty Association to you and me. After nine years of trying, they have finally done it. They have protected the pasty. Congratulations guys! Have a pint and pie on me.

    5.  When is a Cornish Pasty not a Cornish Pasty? When it’s not made in Cornwall! At long, long last I can use this joke and people will laugh. They just didn’t get it before.

    6.  Clarification. You know when you go into your local pub and order a coke and the barman says they’ve only got Pepsi and you say that’s fine? Well, the same thing will now have to happen with pasties. You go into a restaurant and order a Cornish Pasty. Instead of making a note of your order the waiter will now be required to say, ‘It’s a Brighton Pasty, is that okay?’ At which point you get up and leave.

    7.  Pedants. I expect most of them had a party last night. In fact, I know we did. We can hardly wait to get out there and correct people who order a Cornish Pasty. ‘Actually, it’s only a Cornish Pasty if it has been prepared in Cornwall.’ It’ll fit very nicely alongside my, ‘Holland is not bloody a country! The country is called the Netherlands. Holland is made up of the North Holland and South Holland provinces only.’

  • 7 Reasons That You Shouldn’t Read (on the toilet)

    7 Reasons That You Shouldn’t Read (on the toilet)

    This is a subject that totally divides the sexes.  For some reason, reading in the toilet is something that women just don’t do, and they’re right.  I agree.  I read a lot.  I’m also a man.  To some people, this could mean that I might reasonably be expected to be found reading on the toilet, or would be, if people were in the habit of finding other people on the toilet which fortunately – for the most part – they’re not.  But I won’t be found reading in the toilet ever, because I won’t be reading on the toilet in the first place – unless I’m dealing with some sort of emergency that requires me to use the toilet and read important instructions simultaneously.  Like coming face to face with a self-assembly lion.  Other than that, however, reading while using the toilet is something that shouldn’t ever be done.  Here are seven reasons why.

    This: Don’t do it.

    1.  It’s Disgusting.  We’ve all seen those shock-docs in which restaurant toilets are subjected to ultra violet/infra-red/magic-poo-seeing light, and they don’t make comfortable viewing.  They show specks of faecal matter (close your eyes if you’re at all squeamish) spattered (you can open them again now) on far walls, high ceilings, behind sinks and well, just about everywhere, and the nearer to the toilet the surface is, the more bottom-mud there will be on it.  So if you’re reading a book while you’re using the toilet, or even leaving a book near the toilet, it’s going to get faeces on it.  That is an undesirable trait in a book.

    2.  It’s Disgusting Multiplied.  Having left your excrement all over your book, once you’ve finished it you’ll return it to your library or lend it to a friend or a colleague who’ll probably read it in a normal place like a chair or a bed or something.  So not only are they taking your shit with them into their bed, they could well become ill while reading it.  “I seem to have picked up a horrible stomach bug,” your colleague will tell you as they call in sick,” still, at least it gives me some time to read the book you lent me.”  You’ll have poisoned them.  And you’ll probably end up covering their workload at the office too, while they lounge around at home.  The only winner in this scenario is Jeremy Kyle.

    3.  It’s Just Weird.  Well it is.  Why, out of all the things that men do so brilliantly well, is the only example of their multi-tasking prowess the ability to poo and read simultaneously?  Is it that the very act of sitting down on the toilet feminises them and renders them suddenly capable of doing more than one thing at once?  And why don’t women read on the toilet?  They’re always telling us they can do fifteen things at the same time (often while they’re burning something in the kitchen or standing on the cat’s tail) but put them on the toilet – where no one can see them – and they suddenly become mono-taskers.  Does this mean that the multi-tasking stuff is all for show?  If you put a toilet and a book together in the same place and you get more questions than answers.  Unless, of course, the book is a book of answers.  They can only be trumped by a toilet of questions.

    4.  What If Someone Else Wants The Bathroom? There are other people in the world too.  Other people that might conceivably want to use the toilet for the actual purpose of using the toilet.  It’s no fun for someone to have to hang around outside the bathroom crossing their legs and screwing up their face while shrieking, “I need the toilet!  I need the toilet!” with increasing desperation (well, it is, but not for them).  It’s like Superman.  Does he ever think about people that need to make a phone call when he’s using a phone box to change into his costume?  No he bloody doesn’t.  And their phone call might be an emergency.  He’s an inconsiderate bastard.  Essentially, if you read on the toilet you’re just like Superman.*

    5.  Health & Safety.  It’s not just about books any more.  There are hi-tech reading devices out there that the hapless and misguided might conceivably try to use while in the smallest room.  Kindles, for example.  But no one knows what possible effects would occur if they dropped an electronic book into the toilet (I googled it**).  It would stop working, that’s obvious, but it also contains a battery so, I assume, it’s possible that it could short-circuit and send a small electrical charge through the water in the toilet bowl if dropped.  Now if you were connected to the water in the bowl in some way (by a stream of liquid perhaps, you are in the toilet, after all), you’d get an electrical shock. Right in the very last place you’d want one.  They’re not even allowed to torture people like that at Guantanamo Bay.  They’re restricted to water-boarding them there, or forcing them to spell Guantanamo.  The monsters.

    6.  What If You Run Out Of Paper? Outside of Kerry Katona, is there anything more tragic and desperate than someone that has just discovered there’s no toilet paper once they’ve completed a movement?  Probably not.  At that moment, people will use anything that’s near to hand (perhaps even their hand).  If they’re reading a book, there’s no question that they’ll tear a page or two out and use that to wipe themselves with.  But what if they’re reading the Bible?  That would be blasphemous.  What if they’re reading the Encyclopedia Britannica?  They could end up ignorant about aardvarks or Zurich.  What if they’re reading Dan Brown?  That would be hopeless as the pages are covered in shit already.  It’s just better not to have a book within reach in the first place.

    7.  Pity The Writers.  At 7 Reasons, we’re generally just happy and flattered that people read us at all.  But we’re also British and, as such, feel duty-bound to uphold notions of taste and decency and to urge our readers toward decorous behaviour.  So we have to draw a line.  And that line is at the bathroom door.  We can’t write while imagining our readers on the toilet and you probably don’t want to be imagined using the toilet by us while we write***.  For our sake, as well as yours, you should never – even though you probably weren’t considering it anyway – read 7 Reasons in the toilet.  You should, of course, continue to outfit yourself in your Sunday best before settling down in your parlours and libraries to read us, just as you’re doing now.  Nice hat, madam, by the way.

    *This argument hasn’t gone well.

    **I did find many instances of people dropping their iPhones down the toilet but that just made me laugh a lot.  Or is it lAugh?

    ***That sentence took nine rewrites before it even made partial sense.