Category: Top Posts

7 Reasons That Love is Important

It’s Valentine’s Day!!! On Monday. Apologies for any panic we may have caused there, but the 7 Reasons team have decided to jump the gun and celebrate St Valentine’s Day prematurely. Because we’re lovesick. Well, one of us is in love and that just makes the other one feel sick, but that’s near enough. So, in honour of the patron saint of pink stuff everywhere, here are seven reasons that love is important.

1. Make Love Not War. It’s a tired expression, but – short of a nuclear missile – love really is the one thing that can end conflict. For good. We are not interested in truces. Like a dirty weekend in a Travelodge outside of Leeds, it won’t last. Real love means complete acceptance of what others believe and how they choose to live. A marriage of acceptance if you like. Not that I’m suggesting we should accept or indeed make love to radical extremists. That would be extreme. And quite dangerous if their grenades are dangling above your head. If you do find yourself in this situation we suggest you wear a helmet. Just in case.

2. Passion. That’s what love is really. Whether it’s passion for your partner or passion for your team or passion for passion fruit, it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that you feel something for something. Because it’s those feelings that keep us alive. Without emotion we’d be robots. And if you read yesterday’s post you’d realise that’s not a good thing.

3. Compromise. I guess I got lucky. The person I fell in love with also loves what I love. No, not myself. Sport. Which means we don’t have to do the, ‘You can watch Eastenders all week so long as I can watch the rugby all weekend,’ thing. Claire gets to watch Eastenders and the rugby and I get to do the ironing and watch the rugby. But we know we are in the minority. Other people really do have to compromise. And while it may mean missing England beat Wales, you do it because you’re in love. And I admire that. I admire it because I couldn’t do it. Which is why I told Claire before we even started dating that watching England play cricket or rugby comes before anything else in my life. A year later I still haven’t missed a game. And that just makes me love her even more.

4. Inspiration. Throughout human history, love has acted as a spur, a stimulus, a motivational factor in many of mankind’s greatest accomplishments. The life’s work of Thomas Aquinas; Shelley’s One Word is Too Often Profaned; Shah Jahan’s construction of the Taj Mahal, the historical examples of great works inspired by, and created out of love are almost boundless. Essentially, if we didn’t have love, we’d still be slimy-fish creatures or animal-bothering Neanderthals living in caves or swamps or our own poo or something. But thanks to love, most of us aren’t.

5. Tennis. I don’t think anything in the world explains love better than a tennis match. As I am sure you are aware, ‘love’ in tennis is the equivalent of zero. Zilch. Nothing. In other words, it is valueless. And that is what love outside of tennis is too. You can’t put a value on love. Unless you are in Amsterdam. Though between you and me I don’t think ten minutes* with a Dutch girl called Helga really counts. Love is the most valuable commodity in life and yet it is free. I have always thought that is a rather wonderful intricacy. We pay our taxes so that the NHS and the Police are there for us when we need them, but the people who are there for us when we don’t need them are free.

6. Popular Song. If it weren’t for the eternally prevalent theme of love, pop music would be wholly different. There’d be no Renée and Renato’s Save Your Love, there’d be no Yummy Yummy Yummy I Got Love in my Tummy by Ohio Express, and there’d be no When We Collide by Matt Cardle. This might initially seem like a spectacularly good anti-love argument, but it’s quite the reverse, because when repugnant, saccharine dross like this is being played, you might just find that across a crowded room, someone else is also covering their ears with their hands and bellowing, “What is this shit!?” And at that moment, your eyes may meet, and that’s when you’ll find true love. And all because of love songs, which really do begat love. However circuitously.

7. Emotional Intensity. Love – and this is important in these straitened economic times – is free. Your other half loves you because you’re you, not because of what you can give them. Love – true love – transcends the baser human tendency toward being fiscally and materially acquisitive in favour of devotion to and acceptance of another person; no matter what their circumstances or their idiosyncrasies. When you have found your true soul-mate you will have found unconditional acceptance. Which is why my other half is going to love her Valentine’s Day card this year, no matter how much it cost.

She's gonna love this.

*Okay, two and a half.**

**This never happened.***

***Well, it probably did to someone exciting.

February 11, 2011
7 Reasons Pablo Picasso’s La Lecture Is Not Worth £25M

Last night, Pablo Picasso’s alleged masterpiece, La Lecture, sold at Sotherby’s for just over £25M. Twenty. Five. Million. Pounds. Now, I know art is subjective, but how?! There is so much wrong with it. So much. Let’s start with seven:

1. Lines. Seriously, if I had paid £25M for a painting I would at least expect the artist to be able to draw a straight line. I assume – which given the state of this picture is probably a dangerous thing to do – that the thing behind this girl is a chair. Well what the bloody hell is going on with the top of it? If you struggle to line things up get a ruler. And rulers did exist in 1932. I’ve checked.

2. Perspective. This picture would make much more sense if we could only see one half of the girl’s face. Instead of that we have something that clearly inspired the formation of gypsies.

3. Nose. Good gracious it’s a big one. Too big I would wager. The bridge of one’s nose usually ends in line with the eyes, this poor girl’s nose ends somewhere at the top of her forehead. Which raises two questions. One, is this an accurate portrayal of the young girl? Two, if it is why on earth wouldn’t Picasso have chosen someone better looking? You may think I am shallow for saying that, but paintings do not have personality. They simply don’t. And anyone who says, “I just adore the personality of this piece,” is a prick.

4. Neck. The last time I saw a neck like this, Gladstone Small was playing for England. I am beginning to wonder if Picasso really did like this girl? The big freak.

5. Breast. That’s right, just the one. At least I assume it’s supposed to be a breast. It might well be a ring doughnut. Or a bagel. Or perhaps the fire alarm fell off the wall. I know art is supposed to leave something to the imagination, but this takes the biscuit. Ooh, perhaps it’s a Jammie Dodger.

6. Time + Materials. I think that is a fair way to establish how much a painting is worth. So let’s have a look at La Lecture. These are only rough calculations, but I would guess the following: Time spent painting = eight minutes. Cost of crayons = £3.49. A brilliant artist could probably get away with charging £2,500/hour. Judging by the above, I would say Picasso could get away with charging £2.50/hour. So I reckon La Lecture is probably worth about £3.82. That’s about £25M less than it sold for. It’s a difficult one to explain to the wife.

7. Morals. I question the morality of the buyer here. This painting depicts the image of Marie-Therese Walter, Picasso’s 17 year old extramarital lover. That’s not right. In fact it’s wrong. If Picasso wanted to get his end away with a teenage girl he could at least have had the decency to divorce his wife first. There is no excuse for sleeping behind people’s backs. And, judging by the expression on Walter’s face that is exactly what had happened about five minutes before Picasso whipped out the crayons. By allowing the sale of this painting for £25M what are we saying? It’s okay to sleep around so long as you produce a bunch of distorted lines afterwards? Sad times.

February 9, 2011
7 Reasons That Britain Should Ban Farting. Now!

Malawi is currently blazing a trail in the important field of social hygiene and public decorum. Recently, as I’m sure you’re aware, Malawi’s Justice Minister, George Chaponda, recently proffered legislation that would outlaw farting in public there. This is a brilliant proposition, and at 7 Reasons, we firmly believe that Britain should follow Malawi’s inspired lead and adopt this groundbreaking legislation as our own. Here’s why.

1. Job Creation. The world is in the grip of the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression and unemployment in the UK is rising. If we were to outlaw public flatulence, however, we would need additional police officers to enforce the new anti-guffing laws. These new officers would be paid for by funds from a central pot, entirely raised by the levying of anti-arse-methane fines which, in a country where chicken tikka massala is the most popular dish, and mushy peas and cauliflower cheese are also commonly consumed foods would surely be substantial. It would also be a more efficacious use of police resources too as, currently, since the relaxing of the minimum height requirement, short policemen and women have been burdened with the task of tackling hardened criminals who tower over them. With the new legislation, however, undersized officers would be more usefully redeployed into the anti-farting branch, where they would be far more effective at flatulence-detection than full-sized officers, who could concentrate on tackling more serious crime. The sort of stuff that occurs around head-height, rather than lower down.

2. Because It’s Disgusting. The most obvious reason to ban farting in public is that it’s disgusting. No one wants the air they breathe to be sullied by it having been filtered through the fetid innards of a grubby gentleman who has seems to have been dining on Fray Bentos pies and pickled eggs for the previous – constipated – week, and with the farting ban, we won’t have to. This fat man can be summarily hauled away by the diddy-police to the fug house rather than being allowed to continue his journey between Kings Cross and York, which is where I encountered him six months ago.*

3. Inequality. Never mind the disputed existence of a glass ceiling in the UK’s wage structure or of gender disparity and ageism in broadcasting, the definitive and most obvious form of sexual inequality in the UK today is apparent in public flatulence. After all, if a man strikes-up an impromptu butt-trombone solo in public it’s seen as ill-mannered, though somewhat comical and not entirely unacceptable. If women break wind in public, however (even pregnant ones, for whom bowel control is more difficult than anyone) it is not seen as remotely acceptable. When a woman lets rip in a public place, monocles pop out of gentlemens’ faces, other ladies gasp and faint, children gape open-mouthed (unwisely) and point: “That lady blew off!” they gasp in astonishment as their parents simultaneously attempt to hush them and shuffle them away from the foul and wretched harridan with the trumping problem. If we ban farting in public, we’ll all have to hold it in and we’ll put an end to this heinous and iniquitous societal inconsistency.

4. Male Grooming. The overall appearance of the British male will be greatly improved as a result of the ban on flatulence. After all, when forced to hold it in while in public environs, he will have to resort – like his countrywomen – to more frequent visits to the bathroom to relax and unwind**. He won’t team up with someone else to visit the bathroom because that’s just weird. But he will see mirrors that much more often and will consequently adjust his hair more, notice dry patches, take note of errant eyebrows and, as he’ll be exposed to more bathrooms than before, he’ll see how the colour of his clothing works in conjunction with a wider variety of hues. The nation will smell better and look better.

5. Control. It’s not just that the entire population of Britain will have to control themselves better (sort of a rectal version of the stiff upper lip that made Britain great), we’ll lessen the occurrence of truly abhorrent instances brought about by a disastrous happenstance involving flatulence and intoxication. Because I was in a busy – and quite respectable – pub once with a group of friends when a man at the next table, who had been imbibing copiously and was now somewhat inebriated, misjudged his attempt at a flatulent emission. Within half a minute or so it became apparent to the entire pub (except, bizarrely, the man himself and the people at his table) what had occurred and, within a minute many people (including myself) were dry-heaving and within two, most of us were on our way to another pub, tears streaming from our eyes. If flatulence were illegal, this sort of thing wouldn’t happen. That was eight years ago, and I haven’t been back to that pub since. This means that premises that clearly enforce the ban will benefit too, so it’ll further benefit the economy by rewarding well-run businesses.

6. Television. Britain and its society was built on snobbery and the class divide and, with this in mind, the ban on flatulence will be a perfect addition to the nation’s laws. Now, having seemingly exhausted the Drunken UK Seaside Towns Shellsuited Fighting genre, ITVs 4,5,6,7,8 and 9 and Sky: Whatever will be able to unleash a new wave of prurient “reality” programmes focussing on what common people get up to while the rest of us are safely at home cleaning our Agas and polishing our brogues. We won’t have to watch grainy CCTV footage of men in short sleeved shirts and shoes that resemble Cornish pasties – or orange women wearing earrings larger than their frocks – fighting at 3am in Blackpool on our televisions any more. We’ll be able to watch them farting. This will reinvigorate a whole tired television genre while retaining its appeal to our own innate snobbery, so the ban will have the effect of enriching the cultural life of the nation while dovetailing perfectly with the national characteristic of sneering at the hoi-polloi.

7. Anarchy. Another of the cornerstones of the British character is that we’re taught that laws are for the obeyance of fools and the guidance of wise men. It’s in our heritage to subvert authority and express our individualism by flagrantly flouting the law. So some people will rail against state oppression by freely indulging their bodily urges as a means of protest. These anarchists will fart for freedom; they’ll be freedom farters, gallantly and nobly resisting government by liberally cutting the cheese whenever the fancy takes them. We might not all approve of their actions, but it’ll be a hell of a lot safer than petrol-bombing buildings or throwing bricks at police-horses. And the “Fart For Freedom” posters will be hilarious. In fact, this movement will probably be called the FFF and will doubtless become noted for being insubstantial and puffed up with hot air.*** But don’t worry, they’ll be quite harmless.

*I NEVER forget.

**I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of that.

***FFF

February 8, 2011
7 Reasons To Play The Brian Moore Drinking Game This Six Nations

Last week you may remember that Marc and I failed to deliver our regular Friday joint post. In an extraordinary turn of events we have repeated the trick this week as well. But that’s fine, because it gives me a chance to have a look at one of the greatest sporting events in the calender. Tonight sees the start of the 2011 Six Nations in Cardiff, with England taking on the Daffodil Nation. I could give you 7 Reasons to watch the Six Nations but I am pretty sure we covered that last year** and to be honest, not much has changed. You shouldn’t need to rethink it. Instead I am going to take a look at the commentators. And in particular the joy former England hooker Brian Moore will be bringing to the proceedings. With his passionate views, the words of Moore make this Six Nations the perfect opportunity to have a tipple. So here it is, the 7 Reasons Brian Moore Drinking Game.

1. Criticism. No matter which country a player is from, if he’s a silly boy, Moore will let everyone know about it. Similarly, if he feels a referee has made a bad decision, we will hear it. So, if Moore labels a player a ‘half-wit’ or brands the decision of the referee as ‘stupid’ you have to drink one finger.

2. Scrum. Given that Moore spent most of his career in the middle of one, I think he has the right to harp on about the issues of scrummaging for 80 minutes. And every time he bemoans a collapse, a reset or a wonky feed, you must drink two fingers.

3. Football. That’s right, every time Moore mentions those nancy boys in that round ball game and their rolling around on the floor antics, it’s time to drink three fingers.

4. Passion. Let’s put it like this, Moore is not entirely unbiased. You get the feeling that he’d quite like England to win. And he’s not exactly scared of sharing his passion for the cause. So every time he shows his blatant England bias, drink four fingers.

5. Anti-French Sentiments. Being a proper Englishman, Moore quite rightly lacks appreciation for all things French. So when he comes out which such gems as, “Looks like he’s injured…I don’t care though, he’s French,” it’s time to drink five fingers. And cheer.

6. Admission. On the very odd occasion that Moore views a replay and admits his initial judgement on proceedings was in fact wrong, you must down the rest of your drink.

7. Cut-off. Sometimes Moore can get so worked up about something that his emotions begin to pour out of the speakers. In the past it has led the producer to pulling the plug on Moore’s microphone. Below is the perfect example of what we are looking for. If this happens it is time to refill your glass and down it in one.

Most of all though, enjoy the tournament! (If you are English).

*7 Reasons does not condone drinking to extremes, so if you feel yourself getting dizzy before half-time you may stop.

**I lied. We did not give you 7 Reasons To Watch The Six Nations last year, our guest writer Rachel did. You can read it here.

February 4, 2011
7 Reasons That Goats Should Stare at Men
I’m sure we’re all familiar with the film, The Men Who Stare at Goats, which is based on the work of a secret psychic military unit. But in that film they’re doing it wrong. Men shouldn’t stare at goats. Goats should stare at men. It’s obvious. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Men Are More Interesting Than Goats. This it not universal, as anyone who’s ever seen the queue in a Homebase on a wet Thursday afternoon or viewed the bits between the sport on Sky Sports will testify, but generally, it is true. After all, men build things; men wage war; men get drunk; and fall over; men morris dance. Goats on the other hand, do not. Goats stand; goats chew; goats stand some more; goats sit down. That’s pretty much it as far as goats go. If you want to know how relatively interesting goats and men are, just look at the internet. The ratio of men to goats depicted online is 999999999999999999:1*. The evidence is overwhelming.

2. It’s Less Dangerous For Them Than Staring At Women. Anecdotal evidence suggests that, in the UK, you are more likely to be physically assaulted in a pub car park by an addled simpleton enquiring, “Are you staring at my bird?” than in any other circumstance.** And this is a scenario that goats are just fundamentally ill-equipped to deal with. Rather than diffusing the situation by calmly and rationally replying, “Yes, but in a curious, rather than a lecherous way. Is her skin naturally that orange? Did she apply her mascara with a spoon? Shouldn’t someone be holding her hair back while she’s vomiting?” a goat would just stand there, being a goat. If they stared at women, our pub car-parks and city centres would be full of hyper-aggressive drunkards punching goats every weekend to the soundtrack of “leave him Gary, he’s not worth it”. No one wants that, except Gary. And he’s an idiot.

3. Conscience. In the modern secular age, where our notion of an all-knowing God and right and wrong are becoming ever more confused and blurred, we all need a little help and guidance every now and again. And what better way to make men consider their actions than by having a goat stare at them. After all, there are many, many things that you might conceivably do when alone that you would not do when a goat was looking at you. These include:
- Picking things.
- Scratching things.
- Rubbing things.
- Pulling things.
- Poking things.
- Looking at things.
- Other stuff with things.
Could you look at pornography if a goat was staring at you? No. Could you pick the pocket of a nun if a goat were staring at you? No. Could you have sex with a goat if a goat were staring at you? No.*** If goats stared at us, we’d live better lives.

4. Time-Saving. If you’re a man you’re probably thinking, I won’t have time to look after a goat. I have important things to do, I have trains to look at and pants to file and whatnot. But you’d be wrong. Your staring-goat would actually save you time as you’d never, ever need to mow the lawn again. Nor, if you already do this, would you need to go and chew the local playing field for half an hour every day, your goat could do that for you too. Being stared at by a goat is like being given the gift of time.

5. Education. Goats will get something from the whole staring at men deal too. They’ll learn from us. After all, goats haven’t evolved or significantly changed their lifestyle since they first appeared on the planet (unless they evolved from geese, in which case, well done goats, do carry on). By staring at men, they might learn to do something other than standing in a field and staring at men. They might evolve to use tools, to walk upright, to tell time or even learn to read books, instead of eating them. Goats will benefit.

6. Responsibility. This is not universally the case, but many men lack a sense of responsibility and really only get one when fatherhood is thrust upon them. But being the keeper of a staring goat would engender that sense of responsibility. After all, there’s nothing like having to feed something, teach it right and wrong (not to butt the television except when East Enders is on, not to gore the cat with its horns etc) to make you realise that you have other things to think about than whether your shoes are a slightly different colour to each other, or whether the light on the floor varies significantly over the 15cm gap between them causing them to appear different…Nope, it’s the light. Right, where was I? Oh yes, and the ladies will love you when they see you tenderly strapping your goat into the back of the car before setting off on journeys. They’ll see you as potential breeding material, so you’ll be more sexually successful. Though you will have to perform with a goat staring at you, good luck with that.

7. Trains. Men – despite the Clint Eastwood/John Wayne/Buster Keaton strong, silent stereotypes – are gregarious social creatures for whom being alone can lead to loneliness, and that lack of socialization can in turn lead to eccentricity, outright weirdness and a penchant for trains. The company of a staring goat would prevent men becoming lonely and developing strange habits, which would eventually lead to the demise of trainspotting as a pastime. It would probably also lead to the end of model aeroplane building and World of Warcraft, so bring on the goats, I say. Oh, and please send my next-door neighbour his first, as the sounds of his model trains are audible in my loft at night. And they interfere with me cataloguing my button collection.****

*This figure is made up. I don’t have time to count the internet just to illustrate that men are represented there in a far larger number than goats.

**It’s interesting to note that no one, ever, in the history of drink-fuelled, envy-inspired, pub car-park assaults has commenced proceedings by uttering the phrase, “Are you staring at my fiancé?”

***It would be the wrong way round, for a start.

****This is untrue. I wrote it for comedic effect, please, please, please do not send us any correspondence about buttons. No buttons. No!
January 26, 2011
7 Reasons To Have A Pizza Express Tattoo

Now, I’m not really a fan of fantasy and sci-fi. Whether it be in book, TV or film format. Last week though, I caught my girlfriend watching one of those Twilight films. Eclipse I think it was. Given that the sofa faces the TV I ended up watching a bit of it. And what I saw was quite extraordinary. One of the main characters, Jacob, – who is not a person, but in fact a wolf – has a tattoo on his arm. A tattoo that looks very much like the Pizza Express logo. That was it then, I didn’t watch the rest of the film. I was too busy thinking how cool it would be to have a Pizza Express tattoo.

1. Memory. Many people get a tattoo to celebrate the life of someone who is no longer with us. In a similar vein, a Pizza Express logo is a nice tattoo to get if you wish to celebrate the life of that pizza. Maybe it disappeared due to natural causes (IE: it was eaten) or maybe it died a sudden death (IE: being burnt to a crisp in the oven). Either way, the tattoo will never let you forget.

2. Love. We’ve all seen people with the names of their loved ones tattooed across their body. They do it to express their never-ending deep affection for someone. You may feel the same way about someone you love. Or a Pizza Express pizza. But, if like me, you have deep affection for a variety of Pizza Express pizzas you may feel it disloyal to show your love for just one. In such a case, the best option would be to show your love for the entire brand.*

3. Originality. I am going to put myself out on a limb here and say that no one in the world has a Pizza Express tattoo. If you got one, you would be one of the first. You’d actually start a trend. We are well aware that we do have something of a reputation for not being taken seriously, but I can categorically state this is not the case. People take our posts very seriously. Since giving people 7 Reasons Not To Date A Polar Bear, no one in the world – that’s all six point three billion of us – has dated a Polar Bear. So people do listen. Later today people will be getting a Pizza Express tattoo. It’s up to you whether you want to be original or you want to go home and watch Eastenders. Choose the latter and you might just regret it.

4. Service. So, having decided to be original, you walk into a Pizza Express with the logo on your arm. You just watch as the staff jump into action. Anyone with a Pizza Express tattoo is free advertising for them. It would be naive and stupid not to treat you as a VIP. They want you to keep that tattoo for life. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself getting free Coca-Cola. And, if you fancy stealing a Peroni glass, do it.**

5. Service (Two). Just say though, you are more a deep-pan kind of person. Pizza Express, with their thin, crusty bases, wouldn’t satisfy the likes of you. You’d be more inclined to go across the road to Pizza Hut. Here you can have your pan deep and your crust stuffed with cheese. And, because the staff will be gutted to see you with a Pizza Express logo, they will go out of their way to treat you like a VIP. They will want to show you want you are missing. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself getting free Pepsi refills. They do that anyway. But do eat as much as you like. Just make sure you haven’t ordered the buffet. That kind of defeats the objective.

6. Mistaken Identity. If I mistakenly thought Jacob the Wolf’s tattoo was the Pizza Express logo, then it is very likely that a lot of teenage girls may mistake you for a wolf. So, if you like the idea of dozens of teenage girls yanking your tail, get a Pizza Express tattoo.

7. Reminder. Ironically, when you see the Pizza Express tattoo on your arm every day, you won’t think of Pizza Express, you’ll think of those idiots at 7 Reasons. The next thing you’ll do is log on to our website and read our latest post. No longer will you need to be on twitter or facebook to keep up with us.

*Understandably, there maybe something about Pizza Express that you don’t love. In my case it would be the dough balls. I just don’t see the point in them. In such a case I would have an asterisk placed next to the Pizza Express tattoo on my arm and then have a disclaimer on the lower part of my back to state that my love did not stretch to the dough balls.

**Disclaimer: You MUST have a Pizza Express tattoo to steal a Peroni glass otherwise 7 Reasons can take no responsibility for your actions.

January 25, 2011
7 Reasons to get a Cross-Eyed Opossum

This, as I’m sure you already know, is Heidi the cross-eyed opossum, a resident of Leipzig Zoo. Now that you’ve seen her, you’ll want one of your own. And a cross-eyed opossum would make a great pet. Here’s why.

1. It’s The Cutest Thing In The World. Just look at the pictures. Have you ever seen a cuter animal? No, of course you haven’t. Even Bambi on ice nuzzling a baby hedgehog that’s wrapped in a cashmere blanket and sucking its thumb isn’t this cute.

2. Attract The Opposite Sex. Men: Get an opossum. Women like cute things. Women like things with personality. Women like quirky and interesting things. And now they’ve seen it, women like this opossum. I may be generalising here, but I can’t think of any woman who wouldn’t be charmed by a cross-eyed opossum.*

3. Attract The Opposite Sex***. Women: Get an opossum. I know that men are supposed to like cars and guns and things, and some of us do, but we aren’t immune to the charms of this opossum either, because it’s bloody amazing. No man is hard-hearted enough that he doesn’t find this opossum cute. Even Hitler would love it if he weren’t dead. If you’re looking to attract men, get this opossum. And some beer.

4. Ready-Made. Part of the allure of Heidi the cross-eyed opossum comes from the fact that she is cross-eyed. Once we’d seen her, my wife and I decided that – obviously – we wanted one. But our cat’s an only pet, and the introduction of a strabismal rival for our attention would probably be too much for our doddery old cat. So we decided to improve him. I stood to his left, my wife stood to his right, and we both called him repeatedly. Sadly, we were unable to cross his eyes. He merely moved his head rapidly from left to right between us for a minute before sighing and falling asleep. A cross-eyed opossum does not require a rigorous training regime to make it cute. It comes pre-cute.

5. Pedantry. Heidi the cross-eyed opossum, as you may have already spotted, is an opossum. Not a possum; that’s a different thing predominantly found in the Southern hemisphere. Nor is it related to the hippopossamus, which is a somewhat larger African variant which kills its prey by beguiling them with cuteness before sitting on them to death. This makes an opossum the ideal pet for pedants who can boundlessly amuse themselves by correcting people:

“Ah, cute possum”.

“Opossum”.

“I love your possum”.

“Opossum”.

“Your opossum is amazing”.

“Possum…bugger.”

6. Love. You’ll always feel loved by your cross-eyed opossum. Because when you’re conventionally-eyed pet is sulking, it won’t look at you. But when your cross-eyed opossum is sulking, it will appear to be looking at you, even when it’s looking at something else. Food probably, or your shoe.****

7. The Name. Steve Jobs says that putting a vowel in front of the names of things is cool, so it must be, and the opossum has a seemingly superfluous vowel at the front. This makes the name opossum cool and increases the product…er…creature’s desirability. Now the opossum was named many centuries ago, but if I didn’t know that I’d sense that it was some sort of Apple marketing ploy. But then I see the hand of Jobs in everything. Anyway, the name is cool.

*If you are a woman (and let’s face it, some of us are) and you don’t like the cross-eyed opossum please let us know via the comments section.**

**And a mob will arrive at your door within hours and burn you at the stake, you stone-hearted harridan.

***Or the same sex. The cross-eyed opossum attracts everything.

****All pets do weird things to your shoes; never leave them unattended.

Want to see more pictures? Of course you do.

January 12, 2011
7 Reasons The Discovery Of Kepler 10b Is A Complete Anti-Climax

If you haven’t heard the news today, let us break it to you gently. We’ve found a new planet. When I say ‘we’, I obviously don’t mean the 7 Reasons team – we are still busy trying to find all the lemon pips that fell down the back of the 7 Reasons sofa. So when I say ‘we’, I am obviously referring to those clever astronomer people over at NASA. Today they announced the discovery of Kepler 10b. The smallest planet outside our Solar System and one that is rocky like Earth. Awesome, huh? No, not really. Here’s why:

1. The Name. Kepler 10b? Now I know that the telescope they found this planet with is called Kepler, but that is hardly an excuse. It’s lazy naming. It lacks inspiration. To be honest, it sounds like a planet I wrote about in Ice Planet 2000 (my entry in the Nutley Primary School short story competition in circa 1990). You may have read it. I didn’t. Which explains the spelling mistakes. Anyway, I digress. Kepler 10b is lacklustre and hardly has the naming appeal of other confectionery delights such as Galaxy, Milky Way and Mars. Whoever works in the marketing department at NASA needs to think outside the box a bit more.

2. Distance. Yet another planet that is bloody light-years away. 560 of the gits to be precise. If I want to visit, I’m going to be gone for hundreds and hundreds of years. I’m not going to find a suitcase big enough. And that’s not even the worst of it. As a result of Kepler 10b’s discovery, I have discovered something of my own. The film, Flight Of The Navigator lied to me. In the film, David got to Phaleon (a planet also 560 light-years away) and back within eight years. I have just looked on Yahoo! Answers and people – sensible people with letters after their name – are saying this is bollocks. I can’t quite explain how let down I feel.

3. Heat. If the fact that Kepler 10b is so far away isn’t enough, there is also the fact that it’s bloody boiling over there. I lived in Perth for a few months (the Australian version, not the Scottish one) and my thighs were cramping up as soon as it reached 40 degrees Celsius. I dread to think how I would cope in temperatures exceeding 1,300C during the day. And I burn like McCoy’s Steak and Onion crisp.

4. No Life. Not that there would be much point in me going there anyway, because yet again we find a planet and yet again there is no sign of life on it. Which makes me wonder, are these astronomers really worth the money? If we just wrote the numbers 1-7 in every 7 Reasons post, you’d quickly get bored. It’s time NASA started delivering the goods. They have a year to find life or else we are going to diversify and form Two Observe Seven Space Exploratory Reasons. Or TOSSER for short.

5. Artists Impression. When someone places a shopping trolley in a bath and calls it ‘art’ I have a big problem. Not just because it’s not art – it’s theft and vandalism – but because the creator of the piece automatically becomes an ‘artist’. In my life – and I think it’s almost a given that one day it will be a template on how to live – an artist is someone who creates something that I can’t. And, as I will prove if you need, I am quite capable of stealing a trolley from Tesco and putting it in my girlfriend’s bath. Do you know what else I am good at? Drawing a circle. Especially if I have a glass to draw around. I can even colour it in. I am not an artist, yet the result would look exactly like the picture that heads this post. A picture that is an artists impression. Nauseating.

6. Excitement. Geoffrey Marcy, a pioneer for the hunt of exoplanets said, “This report will be marked as among the most profound scientific discoveries in human history.” Wow! Maybe this isn’t the anticlimax I thought it was. And then I watched this.

The video is narrated by Dr. Natalie Batalha, the Kepler Mission Co-Investigator. Someone, who if Geoffrey Marcy is to be believed, I would have expected to be very, very excited. If this really is one of the most profound scientific discoveries in human history I want to hear Dr. Natalie breathless and panting. This is, after all, what I am like when England take a wicket. But Dr. Natalie doesn’t sound breathless at all. She sounds bored. And then she starts talking about ‘mosaics of 42 detectors’. I do not care about mosaics. I do not. If this is amazing I want to hear screaming. And maybe an impromptu recital of ‘Star Spangled Banner’. Or something by ELO.

7. Earth. Kepler 10b is, “undoubtedly rocky like Earth”. I don’t understand why this is so incredible. I’ve seen Earth. Well, some of it at least. I want to see something new. And not one of those stupid gas planets either. 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. This, I have to say, would excite not just me, but the world and Dr. Natalie too. And that makes it worth looking for, doesn’t it?

January 11, 2011
7 Reasons The Gents Is Not The Place For Conversation

Given my reputation as someone who has a butler, this may come as something of a shock. I use public toilets. Though sometimes I wish I didn’t.

I follow the maze of corridors and eventually find the door to the Gents. It’s empty as I walk in. And silent. Until I hear…

1. “Alright?” I’m a bit startled by this. A voice has never said ‘alright’ to me before. Not in the toilets. I spin around but there is no one there. No one. Not a sign of life anywhere. This is new territory. And I don’t like it very much. Now, for 7 reasons that I can’t explain, I believe in God. And one day, if I’m good, I hope to meet him. What I never expected, was that I’d meet him on a Saturday afternoon in the pub toilet. I suspect that is probably the romantic in me. I’m not quite sure what to say back. With my hand hovering near my flies I suddenly feel very self-conscious. Part of me thinks, ‘Hello Sir’ would be a suitable reply, but then my legs seem to want me to curtsy. My thinking must have lasted quite a while because before I have the chance to reply I hear the voice again.

2. “Hello.” This time I follow the direction in which the voice has come. And I see a cubicle with a shut door. I immediately feel stupid. It wasn’t God. It was some bloke sitting on the loo. And all of a sudden this thought hits me very hard. There is a bloke; sitting on a loo; in a public toilet; trying to talk to me. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. I want to run but I haven’t even started my public facilities objective yet. I hurry to the nearest convenience, desperately hoping I don’t hear the voice again. But I do.

3. “How’s it going?” How’s it going? How’s it going?! What sort of a question is that?! Between you and me, I can tell you it was going very nicely thank you, but I’m not going to tell him that am I?! My heart is racing a bit now. I know exactly what is happening. All this sweet talking has one and only one aim. He wants to pick me up.

4. “Hey Dave, that is you isn’t it?” Ah. Well maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn’t want to pick me up. Maybe he just wants to pick Dave up. Relief. At least relief until he says, “Dave?” And now I have a new problem. Quite clearly I am not Dave. I don’t look like Dave, I don’t sound like Dave, I don’t have a bladder like Dave’s. I’m Jon. But of course the bloke doesn’t know this because he can’t see me and I haven’t said anything. So to him, I am definitely Dave. So what do I do? I can’t say, “No, sorry mate, I’m Jon”. That would just embarrass both of us. I suppose I could pretend to be Dave, but when you are standing in the toilets the last thing you really want to be doing is pretending you are another man. So my only other option is to stay silent. And so that is exactly what I do. And silence works. Silence tells the bloke that I am not Dave. Silence tells the bloke that this is now an uncomfortable situation for both of us and as such he should remain in his cubicle until I have left. But that’s not what happens. Because all of a sudden I hear the sound of…

5. Water Flushing. What the hell?! What is he doing?! Doesn’t he know I am still here?! I feel like shouting, “Stay in there man! Do not leave the cubicle.” I need to get out of here. Before he opens the door. But I have had tea. A lot of tea. And, a bit like one’s relationship with Pringles, once one’s popped one can’t stop. I am sorry, but I have to tell you this so you understand the gravity of the situation, I am going on forever. But the good news is that the man hasn’t left the cubicle yet. Maybe he is waiting. Maybe it’s all going to be okay. I make it to the sink to wash my hands. And then the…

6. Door Opens. And our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror. And for some reason neither of us can stop staring at each other. He looks uncomfortable. I feel uncomfortable. And we are still staring at each other. It’s only when I realise that I am scolding my hands under the hot tap that I can finally look away. He uses the sink next to me. I don’t dare look in the mirror. Instead I move quickly to the paper towels to dry my hands. Finally, the tension in the room is snapped, as someone enters the gents. I don’t care who it is, I don’t need to find out, I don’t need to look at them. I am just very grateful to them. Then they walk behind me and say…

7. “Alright Jon.” I spin around and say, “Hi!”. At exactly the same moment as the other bloke says, “Alright Dave.”

January 10, 2011
7 Reasons That 24th December Should Be Known As The Day of the Sausage

Hi there, it’s the day before Christmas and at other humour websites, you could probably expect to find some sort of Christmas Eve themed piece today, cynically concocted to gain the maximum amount of traffic by exploiting the festive mood. But not here. Because at 7 Reasons(.org) we have had a great and noble idea. We’ve come to realise that Christmas Eve is just a little too Christmassy. Similarly, it’s also occurred to us that it’s just not sausagey enough. When was the last time that your thoughts turned to sausages on Christmas Eve? But we think that’s wrong, and we want to change it. So we see this piece as a clarion call, a rallying cry, because we firmly believe that Christmas Eve should be known as The Day of the Sausage, and here are seven reasons why.

Churchill was never without a sausage.

1. Rennie. You might think that The Day of the Sausage falling on Christmas Eve is a tremendous coincidence. It isn’t. In fact it has been meticulously planned. At Christmas, you can’t move for two things. People and indigestion tablets. The world is full of them. It is full of indigestion tablets because the day that follows The Day of the Sausage is Christmas Day. A day when, regardless of your religious views, you eat a lot. It’s like a rule. When better therefore to hold The Day of the Sausage? You can spend all of 24th December eating sausages knowing that you will have both enough days and enough tablets to recover.

2. Vegetarians. Quite how vegetarians survive without meat is probably the one thing I wouldn’t want to be asked when faced with the One Million Pound question by Chris Tarrant. But that’s okay, because I am never going to be asked. I can live content in the knowledge that there are meat substitute products our there for the herbivores among us and no more prominent are they than during the Christmas period. In amongst the people and the indigestion tablets are vegetarian sausages and vegetarian sausages on cocktail sticks and vegetarian sausages wrapped in something that should really be bacon. They have already been catered for! If The Day of the Sausage fell on June 30th, shops would have to fill their shelves with vegetarian sausages twice a year, but with it falling on 24th December they only need to do it once. Which means they can sell proper food in June to go on my barbecue. Never let it be said that we don’t consider the economic elements when we write.

3. Maths. Christmas Eve falls on the 24^th of December, and you can make that number out of sausages. You’re probably looking at the numbers 2 and 4 right now thinking, oh no you can’t. But you’re wrong. Because sausages come in many forms, but the two most common types of sausage are the straight sausage and the circular sausage (which is essentially a longer version of the straight sausage that can go round corners). And you can make the number 24 from them. Here it is. In binary.

Coincidentally, this is just the right amount of sausages for two average sausage consumers to share.

4. Clarification. If you Google the words ‘Sausage Day’ you will be both disappointed and confused. (Unless you’re a pervert). There is no such thing as an International Sausage Day. Nor a National Sausage Day. Nor just a Sausage Day. There are however various Sausage Weeks. Yes, that’s right. Various Sausage Weeks. More than one. That’s not right! In 2010, British Sausage Week ran from 1st-7th November. However, the Egerton Arms in Knutsford, Cheshire, ran their Sausage Week from 3rd-12th November! Which raises another issue. Do they have 10-day weeks in Knutsford? But that is an issue for another day. Back to the sausages. And to the Cumberland Sausage Day. That falls on 5th July. Yes, it’s a Sausage Day, but a Sausage Day for just one kind of sausage. That is sausagist in anyone’s language. Except French. Where is would be saucissonist. The Day of the Sausage would eliminate such exclusivity and allow the whole world to know exactly when to celebrate their sausage. And that has to be a good thing.

5. Harmony. The Day of the Sausage and Christmas Eve won’t conflict with each other. In fact, to borrow a phrase from George W. Bush, they should be able to co-exist peacefully. You can even make the traditional Christmas Eve nativity scene using them, as this heartwarming depiction of the birth of the baby Jesusage shows.

We assume that Americans did this.

6. Shopping. In something of an exclusive to our 7 Reasons readers, we can reveal that The Day of the Sausage has a sub-agenda. Let us ask you a question. What will you be doing on The Day of the Sausage? The correct answer is eating sausages, celebrating sausages and having your photo taken while hovering your sausage over your top lip so it looks like a moustache. What won’t you be doing? Last-minute Christmas shopping. That’s right, everyone will have forgotten about Christmas. The shops will be empty. So while everyone is celebrating bangers, we will be in Halfords deciding whether our respective partners would prefer the de-icer or some reflectors for their bikes. And because we are kind, both of our readers can join us too.

7. Santa. On Christmas Eve Santa comes to visit you, and how do you reward him while he’s emptying his sack into your stockings? You give him a glass of whisky (he likes a 12 year old Highland Park by the way, don’t ask how we know this) and a mince pie. But a mince pie is essentially a dessert. A teeny-tiny dessert. But look at Santa. He’s a big, fat, ruddy faced man engaged in a hard job of work on his busiest day of the year. And you want to give him a pastry confection! That’s hardly adequate sustenance. What Santa needs is something more nutritious and something more filling to keep him going. He needs sausages. And double the quantity of whisky while you’re at it.*

*The 7 Reasons team would like to wish you a very merry Sausage Day, and a happy Christmas.

December 24, 2010