Tag: 7 reasons

Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Glastonbury Rocks

Last week we had Luke Glassford on the 7 Reasons sofa suggesting Glastonbury wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. At the end of his piece you may remember that he said he was looking forward to the counter-argument. This week we have it. Stepping up to the plate and batting for the other side (you know what I mean) is Adam Robinson. And here are his seven reasons why, actually, Glastonbury rocks your socks off.

1. One Man’s Junk Is Another Man’s Junk. Don’t worry about litter or what to do with those ironically named disposable barbecues. When the festival ends, the farm opens its gates again for more partying but there is no music. They are here; armed with refuse sacks and a whole lot of enthusiasm, to clean the place up, field by field. They are like a swarm of bees. Nay, they are like vultures feasting on the dying embers of the planets greatest party. But, to their credit, they leave no trace and they depart with a smile on their face. Their reward is the right to keep anything of perceived value that they find. Oh, and don’t pre-judge what might be of value. I saw a smiley chap skipping around trying to make a kite out of an abandoned tent. I think he was trying to fly home.

2. New Appreciation. As you anticipate the headline set from ‘that band’ that they spoke about on Radio 1, you leave the Pyramid Stage with all its colourful flags and TV cameras. You have an hour to kill and your nomadic instinct brings you to the Other Stage. You know that band that your sister likes? Well, they are five minutes into their set and they seem to have a certain presence. You see, Glastonbury is a place for great live music. You may not like their album. You may even ridicule your sister. But today you learned that a band that has a great live act is, well, great live. More discoveries await. You might pass on that headline act. They’re not even that good live.

3. Play It Again. Such is the draw of Glastonbury and all the kudos that goes with it that popular artists of yesteryear tend to make a rare appearance. Sure, it wasn’t the complete original line-up of Kool and the Gang this year but the surviving members have still got it and quite frankly, that’s not even important. The fact is, the younger audience will not have had a chance to see them before (or even heard of them) and the older audience might not have imagined they’d see them again. We are privileged. They may not be making a comeback and they may not have a one-off reunion concert planned at Wembley. But this is Glastonbury. How could they possibly refuse?

4. Toilets. That’s right. They stink and you have to queue for ages for the experience. But let’s face it; everybody has a memorable Glastonbury portaloo moment or a funny story to tell. I know I’ve got a few. Some too grim to share, some so funny I just love it when people say ‘so, how were the toilets?’ I get to tell them of the time when the smartass security meatheads drove over the pressurised toilet sucky pipey thingy thus covering their precious Land Rover in human ……er… poo. They deserved it and I laughed (and sneezed) for days. Glastonbury is about memories and I’ve got plenty that wouldn’t look out of place in a ‘Jackass’ movie.

5. Keep Your Eyes Peeled, They Won’t Just Be On Stage. The artists have come to have fun too. Why should they miss out? The most eagle eyed BBC cameraman will catch a fair amount of off duty singers and other such A-listers bopping around, singing along to their favourite bands. But, if you dig a little deeper, away from all the action for just a while, you might get to experience some real treats. The Banyan Tree, for instance, is a tent not much bigger than my living room. It wasn’t unusual, however, to witness the keyboard player from Death in Vegas jamming with an unsigned band before a crowd of about 25 people the night before his own set.

6. The Glade And Other Such Spin-Offs. Glastonbury Festival wouldn’t be such a global phenomenon if it didn’t promote diversity. It’s not all about hippies. Take The Glade for instance. So popular, it now has its own festival, thanks, in no small part, to its uniqueness. Okay, so you may have strolled past the Dance Tent and realised that there’s even a place for thumping bass bins and DJ’s at Glastonbury. But The Glade wouldn’t look out of place on a Star Wars set. Is it a field? Is it a tent? No, it’s a small, illuminated forest and the DJ’s ply their trade from the safety of a tree house. As you stomp around with the other druids whilst listening to Aphex Twin, you might actually feel like you have landed on Endor except there aren’t scary little creatures making funny noises. Wait, we’re listening to Aphex Twin.

7. The People. People come to enjoy themselves but not at the expense of others. Sure, there are big crowds but there’s no pushing and shoving and if you bump into someone, the chances are they’ll turn round and apologise to you. It’s like one big Glastonbury family sharing one special experience. If your ears need a break and you want to chill out, why spend half an hour looking for your tent when you can go and visit the Stone Circle or the Healing Fields. It’s peaceful there, man.

July 2, 2011
7 Reasons We Don’t Want To Go To The Tower

Loyal readers, the 7 Reasons team have an announcement to make. It looks as if we’ll be going away for a while. We don’t want to, but a combination of circumstances means that we might not have any say in the matter. Allow us to explain.

A long, long time ago, though in this galaxy – indeed, on this very website – we published a piece entitled 7 Reasons That Looking Like A Horse Shouldn’t Be A Barrier To Success. In it, we looked at how seven celebrities had overcome their rather equine looks to make a success of their lives, and one of the people we featured was Her Royal Highness, The Princess Royal. The piece proved popular, so popular in fact, that it now ranks rather highly on Google. As a consequence, if you go to Google and type in “Princess Anne looks like a horse” we’re the first thing that comes up for that search. We discovered this the other day and tweeted about it. We then forgot about it and got on with our lives. A day later though, we received this tweet from Princess Anne:

This was rather a rather unexpected development and also a rather unwelcome one. We’d rather not go to the tower, thank you, and here are (because it’s us and this is what we do) seven reasons why. Ma’am.

1. Familiarity. It breeds contempt. Now, this may come as something of a surprise to you, but we don’t hang around together very much. At all. In fact you can count the number of times the team have gone to the pub together on one hand. Captain Hook’s hand. And it’s probably this that has helped 7 Reasons run for as long as it has. Apart from that phase when Jon kept uploading jpegs instead of gifs and the time when Marc thought it would be a great idea to do Blowers’ t-shirts and then went away for the weekend, we have got on pretty well. The last thing we want to do therefore is end up in the same small, dank, dark, locked room with each other. We will drive each other mad.

2. Pigeons. We both have connections. We both have people who could break us out of the tower. However, given that it is unlikely that we will have access to Twitter in the Tower, we’ll need to employ a different method of communication to contact the Mongolian Navy. Being high up in a tower lends itself favourably to one method. The carrier pigeon. Only there are no carrier pigeons around the Tower. They are all far too scared of the ravens. And who has ever heard of a carrier raven? Exactly. We’re doomed.

3. Tourists. The Tower is open to the public, which means we are going to be on show to thousands and thousands of Japanese, American and German tourists every week. Not to mention all the Australians who make the trip over from Shepherds Bush. We are going to be publicly humiliated. It won’t be long before one of us snaps and shoves a long lens somewhere where the exposure don’t shine.

4. We Have A Viable Compromise. Princess Anne was probably a fine filly in her day, but that day was Thursday June 4th, 1969. She also wants to lock us in a tower. But that’s almost exactly the opposite thing to what we want to happen and we won’t go willingly. Our ambition has long been to be handed the keys to Pippa Middleton’s dungeon*, so we’re prepared to offer a compromise. Send us somewhere halfway between a tower and a dungeon, do something that’s halfway between handing us keys and locking us up and have it done by someone who’s neither royal nor common. So that’s the 7 Reasons team not locked up on the ground floor by Jennifer Aniston. That’s the sort of punishment we can take.

5. Republicanism. Prepare yourself for a shock, but it might surprise you to learn that half of the 7 Reasons team is (gasp) a republican that just doesn’t believe in monarchy. He also doesn’t believe in god, ghosts, fairies, goblins or leprechauns. But being in the Tower of London might have a profound effect on this. After all, if he were to see evidence of god, ghosts, fairies, goblins or leprechauns he’d be forced to believe in them. Not that he’s likely to see them in the tower, but he would be considerably more likely to see a monarch. He almost saw one as a child, but fortunately our queen is so tiny that all he saw was Prince Philip speeding past in the back of a Rolls Royce seated next to a large blue hat. You can’t play fast and loose with people’s belief systems, it’s inhuman.

6. Ravens. It’s not just the carrier pigeons and the Mongolian Navy that are afraid of the ravens. It’s us. Have you seen the things? They’re enormous wing-ed creatures with piercing eyes, razor-sharp beaks and plumage as dark and shiny as crude oil in a mirror. Plus they’ve got talons! And it’s not just out of fear that we don’t want to be near them. Being locked in a tower with someone who insists on bickering that it’s a crow, a jackdaw or a rook every time you spot a raven during your afternoon game of i-spy is a sure recipe for disaster. It would only be a matter of time until the answer to “I spy with my little eye something beginning with C”, would be “corpse”. Or cadaver.

7. It Wasn’t Us. When Jon sees a beefeater, his thoughts turn to steak restaurants. When Marc sees a beefeater, his mind turns to gin. What sort of monster would put these two – for the most part, harmless – men in an environment where they would be cruelly deprived of both of these things, yet constantly reminded of them? To quote Alexander Pope: “Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel?” To quote Oliver Cromwell****: “I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible you may be mistaken.” Because Princess Anne is mistaken. After all, it was Google that made us number one for “Princess Anne looks like a horse”, not us. She needs to lock Google in the Tower. Or perhaps the internet. Just anyone but us. Please.

7 Reasons may or may not return tomorrow.

*Fiancés of the 7 Reasons team: Marc wrote this**.

**Wives of the 7 Reasons team: Jon wrote this***.

***7 Reasons team: That will definitely work, well played.

****Perhaps unwisely.

July 1, 2011
7 Reasons To Carry A Laundry Basket At All Times

Hello 7 Reasons readers, it’s Marc here, and I have news! Now you might find it hard to contain your excitement when you read this, but I’ve bought a new laundry basket! Now, I have to admit that this is something I wouldn’t usually share with 7 Reasons readers, but the purchase of the laundry basket (pictured below this paragraph) set in motion a chain of events that led me to realise that life would be immeasurably improved for people that carried a laundry basket around with them at all times. Here’s why.

Yes, it's a laundry basket!

1. Wear It As A Hat. “I’m not sure I’ve thought this purchase through,” I found myself saying as I was leaving my local laundry basket emporium, “I’m going to be lumbered with this thing for the evening now”. “Well, if it rains, you can always wear it as a hat,” said the woman at the checkout, helpfully. She’s right, I thought as I strolled out of the store. Throughout human history, the fundaments of our very existence have been food, reproduction (of which more later) and shelter. Now you can’t eat your laundry basket, and you can’t mate with it (and certainly not in the car park), but if you’ve a laundry basket with you, much in the manner of a snail with its shell, you are assured of shelter in all circumstances. You can wear it as a hat in moderate weather, and in extremis you can climb inside and fasten the lid. With your laundry basket you will be inured from the effects of wind, rain, sun, snow, hail; in fact, most of the elements except for lead.

2. Financial Gain. Arriving at the supermarket (forward planning is really not my thing), I picked up a shopping basket and, with a basket in each hand now, I set off to gather my goods. As I walked round the store, I soon found that I was being followed by a security guard who became quite agitated when I entered the spirits aisle. Then I realised something. A laundry basket would be a great thing to fill with goods, but is too conspicuous by half to be used for the purpose of theft. Then, I had an idea: For six months, I could take my laundry basket wherever I went. Everyone would notice this so in very little time, the entire city would come to know me as Laundry Basket Man: the harmless eccentric that carries with him, as his constant companion, his empty laundry basket. And then, once this reputation had been earned, I could begin to shoplift with it. After six months carrying an empty laundry basket around, who would suspect me? Or you?

3. It Makes People Feel Good. Having devised a fiscal plan for my future, I arrived at the checkout. As I queued, the couple in front of me kept looking back, then whispering between themselves and giggling. They paid for their goods and left, and then it was my turn. As I put the laundry basket down, the girl at the checkout glared at it as if I’d just placed a leprechaun in front of her, or a turquoise baboon. Realising that this was something that she had not been expecting to face and that I had taken her somewhere out of her comfort zone, I knew that I needed to say something, preferably something witty, to diffuse the situation. I thought hard while the girl continued to stare at the basket. After several seconds, the silence was weighing heavy and the situation was becoming uncomfortable, I needed to say something – anything – as soon as possible. What to say? What to say? Ah, got it! “I’ve brought my laundry basket out with me,” I stated, matter-of-factly. The girl stopped glaring at the laundry basket and, with an expression of pure contempt, turned to glare at me. As I paid for my goods and sloped out of the supermarket, I realised something. I realised that many insecure people feel better about their own life when they have someone to look down on (this is why bullying happens) and, that if you were to carry a laundry basket about, you’d be performing a valuable public service. You’d be making people feel good about themselves.

4. It’s Distracting. It was half past six. As I strode along the pavement past roads full of gridlocked traffic, I could sense that everyone, in every car, bus and van, was staring at the laundry basket. I realised that this could be a useful thing. Have you ever had a spot? Have you ever had a bad hair day? Perhaps you have a spot so well established that it’s having a bad hair day of its own? Well, worry no more. When you carry a laundry basket around, no one will notice. You’ll never need to do your hair again or iron your trousers – you’ll even be able to wear purple – as all eyes will be on the basket.

5. It’s A Talking Point. I arrived at the pub*. Taking a seat at the bar, I placed my laundry basket down beside me. Now you might think that a laundry basket at a bar would be a similar thing to the elephant in the room, but you’d be wrong. The elephant was larger, greyer and no one was talking about him. He seemed a bit piqued. The laundry basket, however, was on everyone’s lips. If you want to hear references to Ali Baba, snake charming, washing machines, midget-smuggling, The Wicker Man etcetera, etcetera, et bloody cetera, carry a laundry basket with you. There’s never an uncomfortable silence when you have a laundry basket. Or any silence.

6. Reproduction. Something else occurred to me while I was in the pub: I’m married, but I know that for single people, meeting prospective partners is difficult. As the father of a small child though, I know how to break the ice and meet people and, should anyone have a penchant for crazed women over the age of forty-seven, I would advise that they carry a small baby around with them. They will meet absolutely everyone’s batty aunt (whether they want to or not), and sometimes a whole mob of them. But perhaps your tastes are different? You might want to meet younger people of the opposite sex? People of the same sex? Perhaps you’re a Justin Bieber fan who wants to meet people of indeterminate sex? When you carry a laundry basket, you’ll get to meet – and talk to – absolutely bloody everyone, so your chances of finding a partner are significantly increased. Your chances of murdering the ninety-fourth person that asks if they can see your snake are quite high too, but for the patient and tolerant, a laundry basket is a shortcut to sexual success.

7. Keep Track. Finally, after as many conversations about Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves as any man could bear, I headed home to surprise my wife with the laundry basket**. Having negotiated the front door I strode into the house, stepped into the living room, placed my surprise on the floor and, with a quiver of excitement in my voice announced, “Look darling! I’ve bought…a laundry basket.” “I know,” she replied. “How?” I enquired, disbelievingly. “I’ve had texts”. She showed me her phone. She certainly had received texts. Texts that said: “I’ve just seen your husband walking down the street with a laundry basket”. Texts that said: “Ooh, I like your new laundry basket.” Texts that said: “Just seen Marc in the pub with a laundry basket”. It turns out that all of York was abuzz with talk of the laundry basket. So, if you’re a bit forgetful or prone to getting lost, carrying a laundry basket will ensure that your other half will receive a detailed up to the minute report of your every movement from her network of spies friends. You’ll also: have a permanent shelter; be better off financially; bring joy to others; never have to worry about your appearance; never be lost for conversation, and – if single – you’ll be more sexually successful. The next time you go out, don’t forget your laundry basket.

*A laundry basket is not the strangest thing that one of the 7 Reasons team has taken to a pub.

**Yes, our life really is this dull.

June 30, 2011
7 Reasons To Be A Farmer

Yesterday Marc gave you 7 Reasons To Be A Father, so, in line with my attitude as to do as little work as possible, I have changed just two letters. Today it’s seven reasons to turn yourself into one of these:

A Farmer

1. Burglars. Late to bed, early to rise. As farmer’s sayings go, that isn’t a particularly popular one. But that does not make it any less true. Most plummet at 11pm and arise at 4am. That gives your average robber only a five hour period to commit their crimes. Most people have the correct amount of sleep and thus give burglars a further three hours to work in. So yes, ‘Stop Crime, Become A Farmer’. And of course, if you do find someone fiddling with your cucumbers, you have a pitching fork to stab them with. Assuming Big Dave pushes through this whole ‘fewer rights for burglars’ thing, you’ll be good to poke his eyes out too. The burglar’s, not Cameron’s.*

2. Machines. Not only will you get your hands on a Land Rover, you’ll also have a legitimate reason to have one. And an even more legitimate reason not to wash it. But that’s not all! Oh no. You’ll also have a combine harvester, a quad bike, a tractor and one very good excuse to spend all your time in the garage. Which means your farmer’s wife (or husband) has a very good reason to stay in the kitchen making you pork pies.

3. Scarecrow. No more fancy dress shops for you. Your ready-made costume is in that field. Never have your looked so good in you dad’s clothes.

4. Ooo Arghhh! Everyone likes putting on an accent, but there is a time and a place. The Brixton-bound 192, for example, is not the bus on which to pretend you are a native Jamaican. (That woman’s accusation that I was reenacting a scene from It Ain’t Half Hot Mum still upsets me to this day). Anyway, the point is that as soon as you become a farmer you get the accent. Whether it be a West-Country burr, an East-Anglian whirr or the hoity-toityness of an organic crop grower.

5. Dog. If you want a four legged friend but your partner doesn’t, become a farmer. All farmers have to have a dog. It’s like a rule or something. A farmer without a dog is like a football match without Ashley Young diving. Or Gordon Brown playing a game of marbles without being tempted to whip his glass eye out. It just doesn’t happen.

6. Wellington Boots. Apart from those couple of days in January and one weekend in June, when else do you where your boots? Exactly, hardly ever. Wellington boots have one of the highest ‘cost to use’ ratios of any product in the world. Ever. Unless you are a farmer. Because if you are a farmer you always wear boots. In the winter and the summer. In the cow shed and the bath. On the farm and the dog. Farmers have the best ‘cost-to-use’ wellington boot ratio of anyone in the world. Ever. Fact.

7. Hay. Some farmers loan out their fields. Some loan out their barns. Some loan out their wives. What I have a never seen a farmer do, however, is utilise the amount of spare hay they have. Which seems odd really. With so many horny people about, they could easily charge £10 for a roll in the hay.

*Sorry if this disappoints you.

NB: I came up with five of these. The best two came from someone else. And she’s not even a farmer. Weird.

June 29, 2011
7 Reasons To Be A Father

This piece is entitled 7 Reasons to be a Father. It is not 7 Reasons You Fathered a Child, we all have our own reasons for that, often involving a combination of beer and lust or – for the less fortunate – calendars, timetables, fatigue and oh God, it’s bloody sex again. This is a plea to bring back into popular usage the title Father. It’s important that women read this too, as it’s mostly from them that children learn how to address their fathers. I’m printing this piece out and posting it all around the house when I’ve finished it for my wife to see because I, more than almost anything else, also wish to be addressed as Father. Here’s why.

1. Fathers Have A Day. Dads and daddies don’t have a day, but fathers do. It’s called Father’s Day, and it’s a whole day devoted to the celebration of fathers. Less formally titled male parents have nothing similar to Father’s Day. The nearest thing they have is Daddy Day Care, which is a film starring Eddie Murphy from 2003, made a mere eighteen years after he ceased to be funny.* If you want to be celebrated, you have to be a father.

2. It’s Not Mentioned In The Phrase “Who’s The Daddy”. I have an irrational hatred of the phrase “who’s the daddy” that borders on the pathological. I don’t know why people ever need to say this (actually, it’s usually bellowed, boorishly) but they do. I dislike this phrase so much that my (fortunately resistible) desire on hearing it is to beat the sayer around the head with the nearest sturdy but moveable objects to hand – which today, would be a large beige parasol and a teacup** – while saying “who’s the father“. This is problematic as the best known user of this phrase is Ray Winstone (in the film Scum), and in terms of people you’d be ill-advised to assault with a beige parasol and a teacup, he’s right up there with Sebastien Chabal and the hairy-armed woman from my local branch of Superdrug. If more people used the word father, I’d be in less danger.

3. It’s Your Duty. While my son and I were playing our version of peek-a-boo that bears the catchy name, Where’s Father? My visiting mother-in-law looked at me aghast. “He can’t call you Father” she said, “that sounds horrible. Fathers are remote and distant”. While I agreed with the first part of what she said (he can’t call me Father. He’s a baby. He usually refers to me as Agoo-Agoo), I wholly disagree with the latter part. Fathers are not remote and distant; bad parents are. Father is just a name associated with another age when the social norm was for parents (especially male ones) to be more distant from their children. Were all fathers cold and distant? No. Were all of these men bad parents? No. But they’ve been tainted by the modern distaste for the word father. Don’t we owe it to people who will be forever associated with the word father to reclaim the name, to show that being addressed as father and being a good parent are not exclusive? Yes. I think we do. Being addressed as Father, rather than as Daddy could be seen as performing a civic duty. A very untaxing one at that, which is by far the best sort.

4. The Name Father Lends Itself To Formality. If you ever ask a child what their dad has been up to, the answer is never good. It’s usually, “Daddy drank too much and fell asleep on the kitchen floor.” Enquire after a father, however, and surely you’ll get something more formal and considered: “Father imbibed injudiciously and was importuned adjacent to the pantry” or “Father’s club won a tournament of association football and, on his return to the familial abode, he was so awash with joy and hubris that he swooned in the scullery”. The more formal account of your character and your recent occurrences will give everyone a much better impression of you.***

5. Father Is Right For Our Era. It’s been a trend in recent years for children to be named more traditionally and formally and Britain is now teeming with Samuels, Lilys, Lottys and Benjamins. With superb irony, there was even a flood of Noahs two years ago. What better fit for the era then, than to be known as Father? Can you imagine any conversation beginning “Hephzibah.” “Yes, Dad”? No of course you can’t. Gary has a dad. Jeremiah requires a father.

6. The Word Father Is Synonymous With Excitement And Adventure. The word father is redolent of suitably-attired men drinking port in their oak-panelled libraries; of men that had rounded the horn six times afore the mast when they were scarcely twenty; of men that invented telephones and telegrams and multitudinous things that don’t begin with tele; of men that built vast industries where once there had been nothing; of men that – with scant regard for the peril they placed themselves in – explored and charted the world that was their plaything; of unreconstructed men that sallied forth to ride atop elephants and take pot-shots at tigers whilst clad in crisp linen; of men that reposed languidly – though impeccably – in the leather armchairs of their clubs and in the saloons of well-appointed hotels; of men that wore a panoply of hats – tall and short, soft and hard, cloth and silk – for every occasion, but never indoors; of men that marched long in shambling, hobnailed ranks to their capital when their families fell hungry; of bewhiskered men that shrank their world, bringing far-flung and wondrous exotica and ephemera to and from all the ends of the earth; of men that unsealed newly-received missives at their breakfast tables with a silver letter opener and a flourish; of good men whose reliability, indomitability, solidity and sheer bloody ability went unremarked upon though thoroughly remarkable; of men for whom adventure, discovery, conquest, knowledge, power, expansion, great works, boundlessness and greatness were commonplace. Those men were fathers. And dad? Dad drives to B&Q on a Saturday morning in his people carrier, puts up shelves in the afternoon, drinks crap lager while watching Britain’s Got Talent in the evening and then falls asleep at night during Match of the Day. And Saturday is the highlight of his week. Being a father is so much more exciting.

7. It’s Rare. There just aren’t many Fathers out there so you’ll stand out. This has other benefits too. Should you find yourself in a beer garden populated by the balding, the pudgy, the badly-attired and the bloodshot of eye, observe what happens when a child calls out “Dad”. Everyone stops what they are doing and looks around, certain that their progeny is in urgent need of their attention, only to discover that it’s the child of someone else who then announces to the assembled company that they have done a big plop. If your child calls out “Father”, you’re likely to be the only person that looks around so it’s not just more individual, it’s more sociable too, as no one else has their conversation about how much of Match of the Day they missed last night when they dozed off disrupted, and no one gets to hear about the big plop. Except you.

So, who’s the daddy? Who cares? Who’s the father? It’s me. Indubitably.

*Oh God. I’m old enough to remember when Eddie Murphy was funny. This is a truly horrific watershed moment.

**Note to self: Sit near more manly objects when writing.

***This may be fanciful. Learning to crawl up the stairs would be more efficacious.

June 28, 2011
This Is Not A 7 Reasons Post

Well, actually, I suppose it is. It’s just not your traditional 7 Reasons post. You see there are no reasons today.* Just an announcement. An announcement to say the Blowers t-shirts are now nestled in the 7 Reasons Emporium. And they look a bit like this:

Don’t worry, there’s the women’s version too. Which is exactly the same. Just in different colours. And smaller. If you read yesterday’s post though you will know that we felt bad about discarding the other Blowers t-shirts. Which is why we thought we’d make a few of the others too. And when I say a few, I mean twenty – ten male and ten female. They are as limited edition as it is possible to get. Unless we just made one of each. Which would be stupid. So the limited edition t-shirts – also nestled in the emporium – look like this:

You will notice that of the seven designs we drew up last week, Red Trousers, The Collection and Silhouette are not to be seen. There’s a reason for this. Or three. (Actually, we might get a 7 Reasons post out of this after all). Red Trousers got no votes. None. Not even an accidental vote that was scribbled out. Not much point in making that then. The Collection had one vote. 7 Reasons logic dictates that if only one person wants something there is no point in catering for twenty. So we haven’t. And finally Silhouette. Well, that did get quite a few votes. More than Bus Stop in fact. But it was probably illegal. Unlike the other designs, it wasn’t all our own work. Silhouette used a photo someone else had taken. We just made it look cool. Anyway, we’d have almost certainly been infringing copyright laws by selling it. So we aren’t.

So, to sum up. You can buy Hat, Glasses & Bow Tie from now until eternity. My Dear Old Thing, Bus Stop and On Mic are here until they are gone.

Finally, just a reminder that we’ll be contacting everyone who voted with their Blowers T-Shirt discount codes. Assuming we concentrate on the job in hand there is no reason why we should miss anyone, but we do have a whole heap to get through. As a result this is our safety net. If you haven’t heard from up by 6pm today send an angry email to [email protected] and we’ll sort it out.

*If you think I am going to spend hours writing a 7 Reasons piece having spent hours creating t-shirts you are sadly mistaken. I have work to do. And tennis to watch.

June 27, 2011
Russian Roulette Sunday: You’ve Decided On Blowers’ T-Shirt

On Friday we had a dilemma. We just didn’t know which Blowers’ t-shirt design to go for. So we asked you. And you voted in your droves. Having spent all night counting the votes we are pleased to annouce the winner. Well, show it to you anyway. It’s this one:

Well done. Good decision. The t-shirt will be nestled in our Emporium from tomorrow – ready to be worn by all cricket going Blowers fanatics. But the thing is, there were votes, as you’d expect, for other t-shirts too. And quite a few votes. Which by our calculations means there’ll be a lot of unhappy Blowers fans out there. So what to do? Well, we thought we’d make the lot. Except ‘Red Trousers’. That got no votes at all. So, ‘My Dear Old Thing, ‘Bus Stop’, ‘On Mic’, ‘Silhouette’ & ‘The Collection’ will also in the Emporium tomorrow. But only for limited time. In fact, we are only making twenty of each – ten male, ten female. Once they are gone, they are gone. ‘Hat, Glasses & Bow Tie’ on the other hand, will be in there indefinitely. Which is the way it should be.

Oh, one final thing, if you voted you’ll be getting a message from us in the next week with your 20% discount code.

June 26, 2011
7 Reasons We Couldn’t Decide On Blowers’ T-Shirt

You’ll know by now, or at least you should, that we are both thoroughly decent English chaps who like cricket. You’ll also know that we like the commentator extraordinaire that is Henry Blofeld. We know that’s a contentious issue. There are some who would readily describe him as ‘bumbling’. We, on the other hand, find his excitement, his love for both cricket and life, his pigeon twitching and his inability to grasp Twitter completely infectious. So much so that we want to go to the cricket wearing a Blowers t-shirt. Sadly, that is currently not possible. There is no Blowers t-shirt in existence. So, we’ve designed one. Well, seven actually. We designed one and Marc wasn’t too keen. So Marc designed one and Jon wasn’t very happy. So in the end we have designed seven and it is up to you, the humble reader, to decide which design goes to mass manufacture. Here are the choices.

1. My Dear Old Thing.

2. Hat, Glasses & Bow Tie.

3. Bus Stop.

4. Silhouette.

5. On Mic.

6. Red Trousers.

7. The Collection.

To vote for your favourite just click on an image. This will take you to Twitter where all you have to do is click ‘Send’. Clever, huh? Or you can vote on our Facebook page. Or, if you are not a Twitter or Facebook person, you can leave a comment below with your choice. There, we think that’s all bases covered. Voting closes at 11:59pm on Saturday 25th June and we’ll announce the winner in Russian Roulette Sunday, on… erm… Sunday. And, if you vote, there’ll be 20% off the t-shirt that goes to print too.

NB: T-shirt colours are subject to change, so just go with which design makes your heart sing.

June 24, 2011
A 7 Reasons Guide To Alternative Definitions (Part A)

Thanks to Nicholas Ruth for the picture of Marc wearing a donkey's head.

Today sees us provide you with what is possibly the shortest 7 Reasons post in history. (Assuming we don’t include that disastrous Monday in May). Today’s post is not short because I couldn’t be bothered to write more, it is short because that is all that is required. On Saturday evening I engaged in a savage battle against both my future parent-in-laws and my future wife. This battle took place on the Scrabble board.* During what was otherwise a tense and competitive ninety minutes, I had a chuckle to myself. That is because the letters on my rack just so happened to spell the word ‘ANALYSE’. Only they weren’t spread out quite like that. It was more ‘ANAL YSE’. Now, anuses rarely humour me, but on this occasion I did find the vision of a pair of buttocks with eyes somewhat smile worthy. You probably won’t find it at all funny, but I should stress that at the time I had just had half a glass of beer. So at least you can understand why I found it funny. Anyway, all this got me thinking about 7 Reasons. What words have we used in the past two years that could well mean something else? After extensive research I am proud to present to you the top seven. (Beginning with A. I haven’t even begun to look at the other 25 letters of the alphabet yet).

1. Abattoir. A Frenchman with three abdominal muscles.

2. Accessory. An apologetic write off.

3. Advisor. Promotional headwear – usually sporting a brand name or logo.

4. Allusive. A device that assists in the unblocking of toilets.

5. Antilog. A saw or chainsaw.

6. Aphrodisiac. The impairment of a persons spartial perception and stability resulting from a large hair do.

7. Assert. An injured donkey.

*I won.

June 21, 2011
7 Reasons That It Should Be Impossible to Drive Into The Sea

This year, there have been eight incidents of motorists being rescued from the sea near Holy Island. But it just seems completely impossible that this can happen. Here are seven reasons why.

This isn’t possible.

1. There’s A Bloody Great Sign. As you approach the causeway to Holy Island, there’s a sign. It tells you not to drive across to the island when water approaches the causeway. It’s a big, yellow sign, and it’s big and yellow because big, yellow things are highly visible. Can you see the sun? Yes? That’s because it’s a big, yellow thing. Just like the sign that tells you not to drive into the sea.

Can you see this?

2. It’s Called Holy Island. What’s in a name? Well, in this case, there’s a hint as to the nature of the place to which these people were headed. There’s the word Holy, which means tread carefully, and the word Island, which is a declaration that this is a place that is cut off from the mainland somehow; most likely by water. If I were going to an island, I’d expect water. And, hopefully, an ice cream.

3. You Have To Drive Along A Causeway. A causeway is a raised road that crosses marshy ground or water. Now I understand that not everyone knows this and, indeed, there was a time in my life that I didn’t know what a causeway was. And then, when I was seven, that all changed and I learned that word. Now, given that you have to be at least seventeen to drive a car is this possible? Are there people over the age of seventeen in this country that are unfamiliar with the either the word island or the word causeway? There can’t be.

4. Another Sign. Perhaps I’m wrong when I assume that these inadvertent submariners were approaching Holy Island. Perhaps these hapless buffoons were leaving it. But maybe I’m being harsh and these people were just a tiny bit muddled and forgetful. But no, they can’t be, because there are more signs; signs to warn those people that are about to drive across the causeway for a second time. Big, yellow signs and different signs too. Signs that tell you to consult a tide table if you’re in any doubt as to whether you should attempt to drive across the sea.

5. Tide Table. But telling people to consult a tide table isn’t overly helpful, is it? After all, who keeps a tide table in their glove-box? And, come to think of it, who keeps gloves in their glove-box? Why isn’t is known as the half a pocket pack of tissues and the charger for a phone-box?* Anyway it’s conceivable that people won’t have a tide table on them so perhaps, once again, I’m judging them too harshly. But…

…oh look, there it is. That wasn’t too hard to find after all. Are these foundering fuckwits an early indication that humans are reverting to apes?

6. Boats. Britain is an Island. And, because of our glorious seafaring history, it will be apparent to anyone with even a modicum of an education or cognitive function that, to cross the sea, you need a boat. Did Nelson fight the battle of Trafalgar on a horse? Was Hitler able to drive his panzers across the sea in 1941? Did Sir Francis Drake sally forth to dispatch the armada at the wheel of a Nissan Micra? No. This is because you can’t drive in the sea. That is a widely known and commonly accepted truth.

7. Other Nations. I’m assuming that these shipwrecked simpletons are British though. But there are other nationalities that have done this too. Because in the latest incident in which motorists had to be rescued from the sea by a lifeboat near Holy Island (and who wouldn’t want to be a fly on the wall for that conversation?) they weren’t British at all. And I suppose that it’s quite conceivable that if you were from a landlocked nation and weren’t familiar with the English language that it would be possible for you to inadvertently get caught out on the causeway. So which landlocked non-English-speaking land with no absolutely no history of seafaring did these people come from? Australia.

It’s not possible that people are driving into the sea, but they are. How? Why? Answers on a postcard please.

*That’s a charger for a phone, not a charger for a phone-box.

June 20, 2011