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7 Reasons That These Proverbs are Nonsensical

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The following is based on a true story. Sadly.

It Looks Like Rain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**This won’t work if you’re a man.

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

June 30, 2010
7 Reasons I Shouldn’t Do A Mexican Wave In My Living Room

Ever wondered what would happen if you started a Mexican wave in your own living room? I did. I thought it through during the Brazil vs. Chile match last night. I won’t be starting one.

I love this picture!

1. I’ll look foolish. My wife won’t join in. As I enthusiastically stand up and raise my arms aloft, she’ll gaze disdainfully over her knitting at me while rooted to the spot. I’ll look like a fool.

2. She’ll look foolish. My wife joins in. As – in response to me – she enthusiastically stands, raises her arms aloft, and jubilantly hurls her knitting ceiling-ward, I’ll gaze at her contemptuously at her thinking why is she joining in? She looks like a fool.

3. We’ll both look foolish. Our cat won’t join in. He will gaze, apparently aghast, at the cretinous behaviour of the simpletons on the other sofa. Why are they not paying me any attention? What the hell are they doing? They look like fools.

4. The cat will look foolish. The cat joins in. My wife and I will gaze, slack-jawed, at the astonishing behaviour of the creature on the other sofa. The useless animal can’t even catch birds. Why is his only talent the Mexican wave? Wow! Okay, it’s quite cool though.

5. Our neighbour will look foolish. He won’t join in. He will, however, stare incredulously as he glimpses our Mexican wave through his living room window. When he says, as an aside, to his wife, “Have you seen what the weird couple from across the street are up to now…Good lord! Is that a cat performing a Mexican wave?” He’ll look like a fool. His wife will wonder whether to ration his port.

6. Our neighbour’s wife will feel foolish. She won’t join in. She will, however, glance furtively for the remainder of the World Cup – at her vociferously adamant husband’s insistence – to glimpse the Mexican waving cat through our living room window *. Having invested a substantial amount of time dubiously looking for something so incredible and unlikely, she’ll feel like a fool. What am I doing? I’m trying to see a cat do a Mexican wave. Is this how it started with Aunt Hilda?

7. South America will feel foolish. After all, if Brazil had played with a bit more flair, and Chile had more of a cutting edge in attack I wouldn’t even have been considering doing a Mexican wave in my own living room. I’d have been fixated on the football. Like I was during Mexico vs. Argentina. Or most of the other matches. Is this the most convoluted way of saying “dull match” ever?

*Our cat absolutely, categorically does not join in with Mexican waves. Please stay away from our windows during the World Cup. There is nothing to see here. Except for a man eating crisps, a woman knitting and a dozing cat.

June 29, 2010
7 Reasons England’s Footballers Should Have An Open-Top Bus Parade

England missed the boat yesterday. Thankfully, they are still in time for the bus.

1. Public Transport. After their performance at this World Cup the players may as well get used to travelling on the bus. Except Stephen Warnock. He didn’t do much wrong. In fact, did anyone see him? Even once? Oh, and if you are worried about David James fare dodging, don’t worry. With Upson and Terry sitting either side of the aisle the ticket inspector will be able to stroll right down the middle.

2. Gears. Travelling on the bus will be a nice reminder to the lads that getting out of first gear doesn’t necessarily mean you have go into reverse.

3. Control. The idea of having an open-top bus is so that people can throw things at the players. I know this sounds quite ridiculous, but hear me out. I am not talking about stones or John Terry’s collection of conquest knickers, I am talking about balls. Keep throwing balls at Rooney and I am absolutely convinced he will regain his touch around Piccadilly Circus. Just in time for Euro2012. Call it a public service.

4. Gerrard-Barry-Lampard-Milner. That’s right. One last look at this midfield line-up before Gerrard goes and sits at the front of the bus. Just behind Rooney.

5. Closing-down. When have you ever seen a bus driver sit back from the car in front? Exactly, never. He gets right up their backside. Or ‘bumper’ as it is more commonly known. Another reminder to the England players that closing down is a decent tactic. Especially if you’d like the ball back.

6. Posizione, Posizione, Posizione. Fabio Capello said after the win against Slovenia that he had found his team. Unfortunately, come 3pm on Sunday, he had carelessly lost them. If we get all the players on a bus and give Capello a map, I reckon he might be able to find them again. Then perhaps he’d like to drive the bus to Oman. And I don’t care if they take the long route.

7. Penalties. We didn’t lose on them! All in all, it was quite a pain free exit. Apart from ten minutes just before half-time we always looked like losing/getting annihilated. There was no biting of finger nails. No sweaty palms. No stomach churning. No hiding behind the sofa. Just acceptance. We were absolutely bloody useless. Well done lads. That’s the way to lose.

June 28, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: The A to Z of 7 Reasons (part II)

Well, it’s Sunday again, and the thing that we were hoping to bring you has been put back due to our website difficulties this week. So here’s the thing that was going to appear next week: Part II of the A-Z of 7 Reasons. Last week remains unaffected.

N is for No. Which is the answer to the question, is writing 7 Reasons every other day ever a chore? Some days it’s difficult; you don’t feel funny, or you’re ill, or you’re busy trying to do something else, or you’re tired, but it’s always an enjoyable thing to do. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t do it. And you wouldn’t read it. Which you are doing. Right now. Hello!

O is for October. It was in this month in the year of 2009 that 7 Reasons was born. In years to come people will remember this time. Probably because we’ll keep reminding them. So thinking logically, it would help if you just made a note and sent us beer in October. Thanks.

P is for Penguin.

At 7 Reasons have a psychedelic penguin. He doesn’t have a name. And he sometimes turns up when you least expect him. Or, in the case of next Sunday, when you most expect him. What could possibly make anyone happier than a psychedelic penguin?

Q is for Quinn. Or, to use her correct name, Claire Elizabeth Quinn. This is who actually comes up with all the posts for the Kent side of the sofa. And probably explains the display cushions.

R is for Rohan. Purveyor of the Pilkington hat: The official hat of 7 Reasons.

S is for Sofa. Half of it is in Yorkshire, half of it has just moved from London to somewhere in Kent. Though quite where in Kent the sofa isn’t sure. A bit like its owner.

T is for T’internet. Which is what the internet is known as in Yorkshire. We don’t have to prefix web addresses with a t though, that would be wasteful. And that sort of profligacy is frowned upon in Yorkshire, where men are men and women read this:

U is for Ubiquitous. 7 Reasons is everywhere. It’s in everything and on anything. A bit like air. Everywhere you look there are 7 Reasons. For example: I am looking at the screen of my Mac at the moment. Immediately I can think of 7 Reasons why I am writing this at 10.30pm on a Saturday. And none of them are pretty.

V is for Vuvuzela. Vuvuzelas are eroding our brains. We don’t know why, but we have a hunch that they are. Am I the only one that can still hear them when the football stops?

W is for Words. These are the tools of our trade. Without them we’d be very boring, but far better at spelling them. Expert, in fact.

X is for Xylophone. We’ve never mentioned one. Until now.

Y is for Yes. Which is the answer to the question, did you find coming up with something for X really difficult?

Z is for Zebedee. The biblical character that caused half of the 7 Reasons team to have such an uncontrollable and sustained fit of hysterical laughter that he was eventually sent from his R.E. lesson to a considerably less amusing interview with his headmaster. To this day, he still can’t see or hear the name Zebedee without being amused. The next time you see a member of the 7 Reasons team, say “Zebedee”. At least one of them will laugh. A lot.

June 27, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Watching Slovakia vs Italia Was An Education

After an eventful week – in which we concentrated mainly on football, John McEnroe’s hair and lots of funny codes doing lots of unfunny things and destroying the internet in the process – we are taking the day off. Slipping onto the sofa for the very first time is Gina Boiradi. Over to you Gina.

I’m going to start with a rather controversial statement. I hate football. I am a 16-year-old female and I follow Rugby Union and Cricket with all my heart, but I can’t stand watching football – in part due to the awful diving and injury-faking. Nevertheless, I cannot help but watch every single World Cup game. Being English with an Italian father, I watch England and Italy with the same nervousness and delight. After the glorious England game against Slovenia, I tuned into Italy vs Slovakia with the same optimism. Oh dear. Anyway, at least it was an education. Here are the reasons why.

1. Commentators. They are very annoying. They come out with such ridiculous phrases and it makes me very frustated. “Fabio Cannavaro disappears, perhaps forever!” Um, news flash – he’s not dead. Nor has he been ushered away by a mysterious Sicilian bloke making him an offer he can’t refuse.

2. Mucho Do About Nothing. If you are a Slovakian goalkeeper, then you should all consider careers as actors. Seriously. Mucho was diving all over the bloody place with such melodrama, Dame Helen Mirren would be proud. I can see an Oscar nomination and an appearance in “The Bill” coming up right away.

3. Referees. Not all English referees are as hopeless as Graham Poll. Howard Webb did grand trying to contain the players. Diving, falling, tripping, fighting. It was a referee’s nightmare, yet he soldiered on. Even adding additional time onto the additional time because of Slovakia’s obvious time wasting. Good on him.

4. Papa’s Army. There is such a thing as too old a squad. Approximately 79% of the Italian squad were over 65*. I was ever so worried one of them may pop their hip out, or some other stereotypical pensioner ailment. Four years ago, that Italian team were in their prime (obviously, as they won) but now they are old. Bless ’em.

5. Iaquinto. He scares me silly. He is a man I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark, Italian alley. Or any other alley for that matter. But also seems like a right lovely bloke. Also, he adds some needed eye candy for us female viewers. Even if his nose is like a vuvuzela.

6. Pretty Boys. Posing, oiled-up in your undies is very good for your World Cup playing abilities. Beckham did it and, even though he’s not playing, England are doing well (Come On England!). The Portuguese captain I refuse to mention by name since last World Cup’s winking incident (I shall call him “The Winker” from now on) did it, and Portugal are also through. The Italian team did it 4 four years ago and they won. I’m getting distracted by images of oily Italians in undies. I shall move on.

7. It’s All In the Name. Bringing on substitutes with extraordinarily long names will do wonders when you are struggling. Quagliarella was brought on and scored a goal that got the ball rolling again (no pun intended) and provided the kick up the backside (again, no pun intended) needed by Italy – but sadly, too little, too late. England need a few subsitutes called “Hamilton-Wilkins” or “Mandeville-Brown” or something.

*Disclaimer: may not be true.

June 26, 2010
7 Reasons to be Glad We’re Playing Germany (Again)

It’s been a fraught week at 7 Reasons (.org). First we upgraded the website, then we redesigned the website, then we had a catastrophic failure of the website which left us offline for a day and then we fixed it, and are still tinkering with it to make it more stable. This caused confusion. We didn’t know whose turn it was to post yesterday. So, being diligent, conscientious humourists, we both wrote one. Sadly, we found our inspiration in the same subject. Fortunately though, we both said completely different things so, with apologies to readers in Australia, South Africa and Greece, we’re writing about England versus Germany again today. And possibly on Monday too (we’re a bit excited by it all).

1. The Great Escape. As comedy genius Bob Mills has observed, playing The Great Escape theme at England matches is pointless and out of context. On Sunday though, it could be in context. If we win, we will liberate ourselves from decades of World Cup tyranny at the hands of Germany. It actually could be a great escape. This may be the first match at which hearing The Great Escape played atonally on a trumpet will be meaningful, rather than just primal-scream-inducingly irritating. Then, perhaps, we won’t have to hear it again.

2. 5-1. The spectre of their ignominious defeat will loom large in the German consciousness. When we beat Germany 5-1 in Munich in 2001, Steven Gerrard was the architect of a lot that was good about our performance. And now he’s our captain! That should put the fear of God into them. Also, they can’t be unaware of the popular refrain, “5-1, even Heskey scored”, and Heskey’s in the squad too, so the Germans are at a psychological disadvantage before the game even starts. “Nein nein nein, es ist das Ziel Maschine, Heskey” will be the fearful reaction of the Germans upon his introduction to the game. Gerrard seems really up for it too. On Wednesday he said of the Germany game, “Bring it on!” . Well, he said “Brincchhh ii on”, in a voice so high that it startled dogs – I’ve had it translated.

3. Tyldesley. In commentary on Germany versus Ghana, Clive Tyldesley said, “…it’s a different Germany than we’ve seen in past tournaments”. This is excellent news. If Clive is right – and anyone who’s met a man named Clive will know that Clives are never wrong – this can only be good for us. After all, in past tournaments (except the one where the Russian linesman helped out), the Germany that we’ve seen have knocked us out (often on penalties). Bring on the different Germany!

Fabio Capello: Pictured outside a Little Chef.

4. Beer. Fabio Capello is coming to terms with the new challenges of managing at international tournament level. When we played well in the match against Slovenia…Slovakia?…no, almost certainly Slovenia, Fabio Capello attributed our much improved performance to permitting the England squad to drink beer on the night before the game. Germans, as we know, consume most of their beer in October so their team won’t realise its performance potential until November, by which time the match will definitely be over. It’s not tennis, after all. Is that match still going?

5. Common Bond. Germany and England have so much in common: They eat sausages, we eat sausages; they drink beer, we drink beer; they drive BMWs, we drive BMWs; they dress up in braces and leather hotpants and put a feather in their hatbands and slap each other’s bottoms, we…er…well…we don’t. Because it’s weird. But I doubt that lederhosen is what makes them good at penalties and, sooner or later, given that they’re so similar a nation to us, they’ll cock them up. After all, if the match goes to penalties Germany will have the pressure of expectation weighing on their shoulders. England certainly won’t.

6. Confidence. England had an uncertain start to World Cup 2010 but, on the evidence of Wednesday’s performance, we seem to be growing in confidence. We don’t have the self-possessed surety that the Brazil and Argentina teams seem to be imbued with, but there’s a way that we can attain that: By beating Germany. If we beat them on Sunday, our team will get the monkey off our back and will feel that they can take anyone on. The traditional obstacle to England’s progression in world cup tournaments will have been removed and we’ll believe we can accomplish anything. Except a Heskey goal, obviously, no one (except Germany) expects that.

7. Defences. The German defence looks suspect. Ghana created – and spurned – countless opportunities against them. The most notable of these occurred after thirteen minutes when Germany were totally undone by a fluid passing move at the right hand side of their penalty area. Sound familiar? Correct. That’s the same area that all of the brilliant creative interplay between Gerrard and Rooney took place in the England versus Slovenia match. They won’t be able to defend against it. “Take that, Mertesacker!” will be a particularly enjoyable thing to exclaim during the match when we score against them.

Our defence will be able to contain them. Most of the good attacking German play in this World Cup has occurred on the wings. And we have two fantastic fullbacks with Gerrard and Milner in front of them who’ll track back too. I don’t know what we’ll exclaim when we prevent them from scoring against us. “Blimey”, probably, or “crumbs”. But that’s what’s going to happen. We can win this. Be glad that we’re playing Germany on Sunday. Well…at least until kick-off. Then feel anxious as usual.

June 25, 2010
7 Reasons England Will Beat Ze Germans

1. Ze German Edlines. The German hacks are primed to write such classics as So Klose, But So Far. Although obviously they’ll write it in German. So it’ll be something like Zo Klose, But Zo Var. Basically, Miroslav Klose is going to take a shot from 50-yards which ricochets off the crossbar, flies up the other end of the pitch and finds the net. Net result England 1-0 Germany. German hacks have their headlines.

2. Ze Tactics. I am sure you have been wondering why Capello continues to play Gerrard on the left. It took me a while to work it out too. But finally I have. It’s all about balance. And ultimately making the opposition cock-up. Glen Johnson can’t defend for toffee (which is annoying because he loves the stuff). Anyway, the opposition think they should try and take advantage of this and attack down the left flank. However, because Gerrard tends to move away from his position on the left, the opposition see the gap on the right flank and wonder whether they should attack on that side. All this confusion results in them trying to compromise. And compromising means attacking straight down the middle. Right into Barry, Terry and Upson. It’s classic mind game stuff and the reason Capello is the genius that he is.

3. Ze Names. The Germans are named after lagers. A pint of Mertesacker. A pint of Schweinsteiger. A pint of Trochowski. The English are named after musicians. (David) James and (Gareth) Barry White. Oh, and there’s (John) Terry’s Chocolate Orange. You’re going to perform so much better if you listen to James and Barry White while munching on one of Terry’s Chocolate Oranges pre-game, than if you are downing three pints of lager.

4. Ze Beckenbauer. Franz said we have reverted to ‘kick and rush’ in this World Cup. How dare he! We don’t rush. We hang back and hope. Karma is a bitch and Beckenbauer will be summoned by Angela Merkel to explain why he gave the English such a great pep talk.

5. Ze 27 June. It’s Sieben Schlagfertig in Germany. Which is a day basically celebrated by muppets. If it rains on this day, it will apparently rain for the next seven weeks. I like the idea of raining on Germany’s parade and then continuously beating the Germans for seven weeks.

6. Ze Missing Of Ze Goals. Gerrard’s goal against the USA was missed by many because ITV decided to show an advert. Defoe’s goal against Slovenia was missed by many because the work experience boy at EDF Energy pressed the off button. England didn’t score against Algeria because everyone was watching. The simple conclusion to make is that I need to buy 10 million extension leads and forty million kettles. If I do that and press the on switch at 2:59pm on Sunday, I reckon I might just be able to blow a fuse somewhere on the National Grid and cause absolute chaos. We’ll all miss the game, but England will win 4-0. Don’t thank me, thank the nice people at Argos who are about to get a very big order.

7. Ze Zeven Reasons. I have drafts of 7 Reasons England Will Beat Argentina, 7 Reasons England Will Beat Portugal and 7 Reasons Why It’s Second Time Lucky For England And They Will Beat The USA ready to go. You can’t buy this kind of motivation. The England boys want to read my work. They are in a win-to-read position now. Which is so much more impressive than a boring win-t0-be-MBEs position.

June 24, 2010
7 Reasons John McEnroe Can Not Be Serious (About His Hair)

With the opening credits of BBC’s 2010 Wimbledon coverage came joy, happiness, extortionately priced strawberries and the horror of John McEnroe’s new hair. I say new hair, it’s probably quite old hair, but it does look different. And not for the better. Here are 7 Reasons – in a nicely packaged video format (just to show I can’t be outdone) – that explain why Mr John McEnroe should not have been tempted to rid the old look.

7 Reasons John McEnroe Can Not Be Serious (About His Hair)

June 23, 2010
Sorry, things went a bit awry.

Hi, Marc here. The non-Kent-dwelling half of the 7 Reasons team. Yesterday, we had a bit of a catastrophic failure of our website, which meant that no one got to see Jon’s beautiful video about John McEnroe’s hair. Our website is still a bit fragile at the moment, but after spending about twenty hours in the corner of my dining room (except for football breaks) crunching numbers, downloading, uploading, reconfiguring php.myadmin files and /htaccess.docs, renaming plugin files (it was as interesting a day as it sounds), we seem to have most of the elements of our website up and running again, though not all (it’s still a bit fragile, read it gently).

So, today (Tuesday) didn’t happen and we apologise. But, no matter, today will become yesterday eventually and tomorrow will become today and, in the fullness of time, you’ll forget that yesterday didn’t happen. You will, however, remember tomorrow’s (today’s?) brilliant video about the hair. Which will appear later. After I’ve had a lie down and checked my calendar. Or is that earlier? I don’t know any more. Just…sorry…and enjoy.

June 23, 2010