Tag: 7 reasons

7 Reasons That The New Duvet Is Awful

At 7 Reasons (.org) we like to think of ourselves as lifestyle writers; authors of a self-help guide to modern living. But occasionally, something so calamitous occurs in one of our personal lives that we can think of nothing other than that event and are compelled to write about it, even though we’d rather be thinking and writing about something (anything) else. Such an event has occurred. In the past week, my wife purchased a new duvet. It is one of the worst things that could have happened. Here are 7 reasons why.

1. Light. It’s dark under the new duvet. Whether it’s actually dark or not. It’s so dark that the exterior of the duvet could be next to the sun, or next to something as dark as the sun is light (the unsun? The un? ). It wouldn’t matter. Because underneath the duvet, it is always pitch black: Unless I was to take a torch under there. Though possibly even then. There is nothing darker than being under the duvet, except for being inside Piers Morgan’s soul wearing a black hat, a bin liner and a pair of sunglasses. Though how you would find yourself in such a situation, I don’t know. It would be quite unfortunate.

2. Weight. The duvet is heavy. It’s heavier than…well…everything; and it’s definitely the heaviest thing I’ve ever been pinned to a bed by. It’s like an enormous weight is pressing down on me all the time I’m beneath it (which may be slimming, who knows?). When I tried to complain, what I said came out as gibberish because of the heavy weight pressing down on my face. But that didn’t matter, because…

3. Under The Duvet, No One Can Hear You Scream. There is no sound under the duvet. This is bad, as I like to listen to the radio while in bed – it prevents me from thinking, which is what usually gets me into trouble, so it’s quite essential – but the moment I put my head under the duvet, all sound stops. All of it. Which would be handy if I were in a room with James Blunt, but I’m not, I’m trapped in a room with my own thoughts. Which is much like being back in Piers Morgan’s soul again but I can wear what I like and there’s tiramisu.

4. Heat. It’s hot under the duvet. Hotter than anything. I have no idea exactly how many togs the thing contains, but I know this: Togs are hot, and the new duvet has bloody loads of them. I have actually broken into a sweat just by lying under the thing, not moving, in a cold, draughty house in the winter, when the temperature outside was -13. It was then that I decided the remedy to my overheating would be to lift the duvet to let some air underneath.

5. AAaaaaarrrrrrgggghhhh!!!!! And that turned out to be a sensation like being punched in the solar-plexus by an angry ‘roid-enhanced snowman. Twice. It turns out that there was at least a thirty degree difference between the temperature in the room and the micro-climate beneath the duvet. Still, at least my screams didn’t wake my wife, as my head was beneath the duvet and her head was above it, so she couldn’t hear them.

6. Time. Under the duvet, you have no inkling of what time it is. None, whatsoever. There’s just no way of telling. I can’t hear the radio, and there’s no way of telling that it’s time to get up (alarms, bin-men, toasters, a hungry cat etc), nor is there any daylight or any climactic indicators (it’s just always the temperature of boiling stuff). I could take a timepiece with me, but who wants to roll over on a clock in the bed, or get the bracelet of their watch caught in their hair and have to cut it loose? I don’t want to make that mistake again, thank you very much. Because doing that for a third time would make me look foolish.

7. Air. It is impossible to breathe under the duvet, which is a shame, as it’s something of a hobby of mine. No air penetrates the dense, heavy material that the duvet is constructed from (some sort of downy molten concrete?) and all air that was originally there is forced out by the sheer weight of the thing pressing down on the bed. I’m not sure if this lack of air counts as a vacuum, but the new duvet certainly sucks.*

*7 Reasons (.org) will return tomorrow but may not be back the following day as I may die a hideous death under the duvet of doom.

December 13, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: The 7 Reasons Leaks

*

It’s almost as if every other day of the week leads up to this. Sunday! But enough of that, let’s get to business, you have wrapping to do. The second most important thing this week concerns the ongoing Wikileaks shebang. Here at 7 Reasons we are nervous about it. Many emails are exchanged between us. Dozens a week. Some even make sense. They are our life-blood. Amongst our messages of affection and frustration lie bits of creative genius and ideas that spark beauty. Of these we are proud and smug. But there are also moments when one of us embarrasses ourselves. Or one of us says something that could come back to bite us in the undergarment area. These messages have been hidden deep in the 7 Reason vault. Never to be seen by anyone outside of our cult. But what happens if we’ve missed something? What happens if Marc has left the code showing on the padlock? What if Jon has put the wrong box in the vault? The unseen 7 Reasons files could be in the shed! What happens if Wikileaks has sent someone round to the shed? We are going to be exposed! And we don’t like being exposed. Especially the York based half of us. The only way we can counteract any embarrassment Wikileaks could cause ourselves, our family and our friends is a show of the utmost alpha-male. We are going to share the embarrassing bits of 7 Reasons with you ourselves. Now. Ha! Take that Wikileaks!

This isn’t an actual conversation that took place of course. Just some of the things we said in a variety of messages. We don’t want you thinking we are wierd or anything. Because we’re not. Not one of us. Zilch.

Jon: I’m a prick. Not a massive one, but enough of one. The good news is, I have remembered how to use it.

Marc: Do you need a tissue?

Jon: I am surpsied you have to ask.

Marc: Hang on. I just sat on a lemon. I’ll be back in ten minutes.

Jon: I just sat on a cat. I’ll be back when I’ve won my case.

Marc: You can never win. I just gave my wife a Hitler salute. She headbutted me in pelvis. It’s unfair when she uses the ladder.

Jon: I have always thought Steps were vastly underrated. Especially the short one.

Marc: It would be silly to keep talking about it. We know he’s a cock.

Jon: Fair enough, we shall wash our hands of it.

Marc: Will do. I’m going for a bath.

Jon: This is a potentially dangerous situation. I live near someone who uses Lidl.

Marc: I’m not sure that’s the issue.

Jon: We’ll blame the French.

Marc: I’m glad we thought it was a good idea. Shame no one else did.

Jon: We’ll probably reep the rewards in the months to come.

Marc: That’s the SEO working. I have done lots of work on the back-end.

Jon: Does your wife know?

Marc: I woke her up celebrating. She looked angry.

Jon: I think that’s more unlucky than anything. We know we what we are trying to do and, for the most part, we are doing it.

Marc: I completely agree with everything you’ve said. Do we have any ideas for Sunday?

Jon: I’m going for a run.

Marc: I always meet a cow.

Jon: That’s one more we can add to the 7 Reasons posse.

Marc: It’s very annoying when you do that, especially given the countless hours of hard work I have put in. Stop it!

Jon: I’ll do it this weekend then.

Marc: I’ll be in a field drinking beer and shan’t have access to the internet.

Jon: Well done.

Marc: Thanks.

So there you have it. Straight from us. Wikileaks can never make us look stupid and you undoubtedly have newfound respect for us. For this we thank you.

*Marc: This isn’t a leak.**

**Jon: What is it then?***

***Marc: It’s a leek.****

****Jon: You say potato, I say tomato. Same thing.*****

*****Marc: No they’re not.******

******Jon: Not the same as a leak, no.*******

*******Marc: It’s leek!********

********Jon: You say potato, I say…*********

*********Marc: **** **** ******* ****!!!**********

**********Jon: If you put a mirror on the left side of the asterisks, you get a Christmas tree.***********

***********Marc: Wow. That’s pretty.************

************Jon: I love you.*************

*************Jon: Marc?

December 12, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons That Christmas ALWAYS Gets Me in the End

It’s Saturday, and the 7 Reasons team have abandoned the sofa in order to rush, blinking out into the sunlight like pit-ponies escaping from their daily labour. But, fear not, for the sofa is in safe hands. Guest hosting this week is the lovely Liz Gregory – that’s right, her of Things to do in Manchester fame – who despite being from Manchester, isn’t going to prattle on about Coronation Street, she’s going to talk about Christmas. Now settle down, children, and she’ll begin.

Every year it’s the same. I roll my eyes at those poor souls who have done all their present shopping by August; I can tut as cynically as anyone at the Christmas songs repeated on an endless, hideous loop in certain shops from the beginning of November. I am a grown woman with a full time job, and the shameless commercial enterprise that is Christmas has no place in my busy and important lifestyle. But by December, I’m hooked, brimming with festive excitement. Again. Here’s why….

1. The weather. Surely even the most hardened and wizened of souls must admit that nothing looks more enticingly festive than a fresh coating of snow, with the power to wipe out an ugly urban landscape of wheelie bins and cat poo, and replace it with pristine perfection. And I say this despite the fact that I am seemingly the only teacher in the UK not to have received a single snow day in the recent bad weather – I have had to go to work and perform the job for which I am paid EVERY SINGLE DAY.

2. Rosy-cheeked children. No, not the bratty whiny ones running amok in the supermarket trying to grab everything in sight – they are the ones to avoid if you’re trying to be misty-eyed and non-cynical about Christmas. I mean the angelic ones who assemble at Christmas lights switch-ons, warbling traditional festive songs and obligingly going “ooohhh” when the lights are turned on.

3. The Christmas Radio Times. I take enormous comfort in the fact that even though we live in a high-tech, culturally diverse society where we celebrate individuality and cutting-edge modernity, at least fifty percent of the UK will have spent the last week leafing through the Christmas Radio Times, armed with a marker pen, drawing wonky circles around the plethora of bad television they wish to watch this Yuletide. The fact that you will only actually watch three of these programmes is entirely besides the point – the pleasure lies in the selection, not the viewing.

4. Alcohol. One of the overwhelming perks of December is that it becomes socially acceptable to consume alcohol at virtually any time of day without anyone raising their eyebrows and calling you an alky. So that means sherry at elevenses is fine, as is bucks fizz at breakfast and Amaretto Sours at lunch. I do not, of course, live like this at other times of the year.

5. Decorations. Yes, Nigella is annoying, but I do admire the fact that her house (or her studio-masquerading-as-house, one is never quite sure) appears to be permanently bedecked with fairy lights. I am not brave enough to try to convince my husband that this is acceptable all year round, which means I must make the most of the carte blanche that Christmas brings. Turn the big light off, switch the fairy lights on, and hey presto! Your house instantly looks clean and tidy in the murky pixie gloom.

6. Food. I am by nature a most abstemious person, unlikely to over-indulge in any way, but the range of tasty morsels positively flung one’s way at this time of year makes it impossible to refuse. As with the alcohol, it is de rigueur to adjust one’s notions of what acceptably constitutes a balanced meal – as long as you select items from both the savoury AND the sweet party food ranges, you should be absolutely fine.

7. Two weeks off. I enjoy my job, and by anyone’s standards, working in a college in the run up to Christmas must surely be as good a place to be as any. Giant tins of Quality Street lurk at every turn, and teaching English means that the final week offers plenty of chances to watch Wuthering Heights and eat popcorn. And yet, the prospect of two weeks off, spent lolling on the sofa, opening the odd present and reverting to a lifestyle where your mum brings you a cup of tea in bed in the morning, is surely something to be cherished.

So, if anyone fancies a mince pie or three in the semi-gloom of my Nigella kitchen I’ll see you shortly; only visitors bearing sherry will be admitted, mind.

December 11, 2010
7 Reasons to Embrace Junk Mail

Junk mail. No one likes it, but there are valid reasons to embrace it. We don’t mean give it a cuddle, that would be weird; we mean accept and enjoy it, because there are – fortunately for us – almost seven reasons to.

Junk Mail (Image courtesy of Stop Junk Mail)*

1. Wanted. There is something very comforting about the sound of your letter box opening and something dropping onto the floor. It makes you feel wanted and loved. If it’s a bill then it’s good to know British Gas care that you are still alive and if it’s junk mail – probably from the local estate agent asking you if you would like to consider selling your house to a family of five who have just moved to the area – well it’s good to know that they think you are friendly. You know, the kind of person who would consider moving for a family of five. The estate agents wouldn’t put the same letter through Lord Sugar’s letter box would they? No. Because he has evil in his eyes. And a guard dog.

2. New Experiences. One of the most regular pieces of junk mail that adorns house mats all over the country are those from local (and not so local) take-away restaurants. Whether it’s Indian, Chinese, Taiwanese, Bangladeshi, Italian or Chav, what a great way to start experiencing a different culture. It might only take you one chicken dansak to decide that you want to go and experience India for itself or it might only take one late pizza delivery by a teenager who calls you ‘boss’ to make you decide you are living in the wrong part of town.

3. Pens. They say that you can never have too many pens. And fortunately, charities have challenged this age-old assumption by providing them to us free of charge to us via the medium of junk mail. And it turns out that you can have too many pens. I write stuff every day, in fact you’re reading it now. I write far more than the average person and rarely use a pen. I require one pen, for the purpose of writing down random notes that I can’t read later on and eventually turn into paper aeroplanes. Fortunately though, there is an alternate use for all of the pens that charities send to me at a loss. I use them as legs for my four-legged (and six-legged) potato animals. I clearly have too many pens. And potatoes.

4. Rubbish. To be embraced heavily are those charity bags that get stuck in your letter box. You know, those that the charities ask you to fill with old and unwanted clothes. Well, if you do manage to remove them from the letter box without ripping them, they make brilliant bin bags. Don’t go walking down the street swinging one around in the breeze though, you’ll become a prime chugger target. You’ll get chugged. In a chugging.

5. Baldness. We don’t know everything about the 7 Reasons readership. The 7 Reasons team both have hair, and we imagine that our readers do too. But there may be some who are afflicted with baldness. And, if there should be such people reading, they might learn from this use of junk-mail. Because back – way back – in history, in a time almost lost to human memory there was once a thing, a sort of a big flaming ball of heat and light that dwelt in the sky. Some cultures worshipped it, some feared it, and it had many names. Here, it was known as the sun. And, in those far-gone days, when it lit up the sky, it was a menace to the follicularly challenged who lacked the natural protection from its rays that the rest of us take for granted. But with junk-mail there’s always a free emergency hat lying on their doormat, waiting to be origamied. Just in case the great orb in the sky should ever reappear, as unlikely as that seems.

6. Love. If this isn’t enough to satisfy your junk mail habit, then the final option is to create a junk mail-mache person. Then you can really embrace it if you are that way inclined. Or a pervert as it is more commonly known. Just make sure they are dry first.*

7. Lifestyle. As a guide to living, junk mail is invaluable. Want to know what not to eat or drink? All of that information is conveniently posted unsolicited through your letterbox. Whether it’s takeaways, highly dubious drinks delivery services, or the offers at your local branch of Londis. If a picture of something (these things are always pictorial) comes through your letterbox, then it’s disgusting and common and bad for you. Yet surprisingly tempting when drunk; which is how they get you, by the way. They expect you to read them when you’re lying face-down on your own doormat having just made it home from a big night out; when your guard is down. Why else would they put them there? Bastards.

*Because wet perverts are the worst kind.

You can also use it to make one of these!

*If you can’t find the love to embrace junk mail, check out Stop Junk Mail here.

December 10, 2010
7 Reasons That You Shouldn’t Knock on the Front Door When I’m in the Bath

Yesterday, while I was bathing, someone knocked on the front door. They shouldn’t have. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Doubt. I’m lying in the bath. I’m wet. I’m not about to get up to answer the door, it’ll be bloody cold standing on the doorstep with only a towel around my waist and five chest hairs to keep me warm, so of course I’m going to lie here. But what if it’s important? What if there’s a gas leak and they’ve come to alert me? What if the house next door is on fire? What if the police have come to warn me that there’s an axe-murderer on the loose?

2. Foreboding. What if it is the axe-murderer? I’m alone in the house with my cat. An axe-murderer wouldn’t be satisfied with hacking the cat to death, that wouldn’t even be murder. That would be animal cruelty. That would probably be an assault to the dignity of the axe-murderer: It would be a demotion from axe-murderer to cruel man (with axe). He’d be a laughing stock. He would be shunned by the other axe-murderers. That would never do.

3. Fear. What if he’s the sort of axe-murderer who doesn’t want to chop me into a barely identifiable pulp of blood, flesh and sinew right away? What if he’s the kind that’s on the run and wants somewhere to hide for a while; menacing my cat with his axe in the living room while I tell the police at the door that I haven’t seen anyone and that I’m alone in the house? I don’t want one of those. It’ll be hours before my wife comes home and I can hide behind her. Hours.

4. Terror. What if he needs to hide out for a couple of days? What in the hell would we feed him? We’ve had snow here for two weeks and the shops haven’t had much in; all we would have to offer him are vast quantities of limoncello and Twiglets. And I doubt that axe-murderers even like Twiglets. After all, I bloody love Twiglets and I’m the total opposite of an axe-murderer; I’m a no-axed-not-murderer, or as we’re more commonly known, a victim. So, the axe-murderer will have lots to drink, but nothing to eat. So he’ll be drunk, and he’ll be cross. He’ll be a drunken, angry, axe-murderer which, I rather suspect, is the worst sort.

5. Twiglets. What if he does like Twiglets? Because these aren’t just any Twiglets. Oh no. These are the Christmas Twiglets. The Twiglets that I’m not allowed to touch. The Twiglets that no one is allowed to touch, or even gaze directly at for a prolonged period. Not until Christmas Twiglet season begins at 9pm on the 24th of December. I’ve made that mistake before and there were consequences. And now I know better than to breach the sanctity of the Christmas Twiglets. In fact, I seem to remember that, following the incident that has come to be known as Christmas-Twiglet-gate, my wife told me that if I ever ate the Christmas Twiglets again (outside of the clearly defined time-frame) that she would kill me. So that’s it. It’s Hobson’s bloody choice. If the axe-murderer likes Twiglets I can either tell him he can’t have any and he’ll kill me with an axe, or I can let him have them and my wife will kill me without an axe (with a handbag probably, or her soup). Basically, I’m fucked.

6. Reflection. When was the last time I saw an axe-murderer? I haven’t seen any for ages. I don’t think I’ve seen one since The Shining. There used to be loads of them. Absolutely bloody loads, but their numbers seem to have declined. They seem to have had some sort of heyday in the late 1940s when they were menacing Fred MacMurray and Ida Lupino in a remote California farmhouse most weekends, and then their numbers appear to have dwindled away to nothing. So, in all probability, it wasn’t an axe-murderer that knocked on my door about sixty minutes ago.

7. Resolution. My fingers are wrinkly, I’m cold, and my left knee has literally turned blue. I have other things to do. I’m supposed to be writing tomorrow’s 7 Reasons piece. I’m not even supposed to be thinking about the Christmas Twiglets. I’m not allowed to do that until the 22nd. You’ve just stolen an hour of my life and caused me think dangerous thoughts and turned my knee a funny colour (somewhere between cobalt and Prussian blue). Damn you, whoever you are/were. Next time, I’m coming down in my towel. To my death, probably.

December 9, 2010
7 Reasons John Lennon Could Be Deemed A Philosopher

Today marks the 30th anniversary of John Lennon’s death. And to celebrate we take an irreverent look at some of his finest work. If you are easily offended by lyric assassination, please walk away now.

The Young Lembit Opik

1. Imagine – “Imagine there’s no heaven, it’s easy if you try. No hell below us, above us only sky.” Yep, I can imagine there is no heaven. I have replaced the ‘Heaven’ sign above the pearly gates with one for Lidl. I’m not as keen to get there now. As for imagining there is no hell below us, I can go one better. I can see a carpet. But that’s why Lennon was a philosopher and I am not. His version is much better than my, ‘Imagine there’s a Lidl, it’s painful if you try. A carpet down below me, above me a ceiling.’ It lacks both meaning and rhythm.

2. I Am The Walrus – “I am he as you are he as you are me, and we are all together.” Seriously, sometimes Lennon was so in-tune with the world around him, that he is far too intellectual for me. I mean, this goes straight over my head. Something about walruses. And apparently he was as much of a walrus as I am. Which is news to me. But I guess that’s philosophy for you. It should always tell you something you don’t know. It should always get you thinking differently. Otherwise what is the point in it? You may as well go down the pub and play darts.

3. Norwegian Wood (The Bird Has Flown) – “She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere, so I looked around and I noticed there wasn’t a chair.” I’m not quite sure if this is a metaphor for ‘don’t go out with stupid women’ or this particular lady had just been burgled. And that, I suppose, is philosophy again. It takes a certain amount of intelligence and time to work out exactly what is meant. And I have neither.

4. All You Need Is Love – “There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done.” Wow. This guy just blows my mind. How true is this?! You can’t make a cup of tea if you can’t make a cup of tea can you?! But if you can make a cup of tea then you can make a cup of tea! Extraordinary. Extra-bloody-ordinary!

5. Eight Days A Week – “Eight days a week I love you, eight days a week is not enough to show I care.” It’s very true. There are some people out there you love 110%. There are some people you would give 11 out of 10. For these people, they surely live in an eight day week world. For the rest of us, we’ll remain in our normal seven day week world, loving people 100% and giving their risotto 10 out of 10. We also won’t sound patronising. But that’s because we’re not philosophers.

6. Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds – “Newspaper taxis appear on the shore, waiting to take you away. Climb in the back with your head in the clouds, and you’re gone.” I don’t think anyone can disagree with this. If you are seeing newspaper taxis on the shore, then you are almost certainly gone. You may also want to work out what you’re actually doing in the sea. If you are on a dustbin lid, you probably want to think about getting rescued. Unless you are on a dustbin lid on a cruise liner. In which case, I don’t want to know you. You’re weird.

7. Strawberry Fields Forever – “Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.” Quite right. Just shut your eyes. Actually, open them again, finish reading this, and then shut them. When you shut your eyes you can see different coloured shapes floating around. And just how how often are these misunderstood? I often think I can see a T-Rex humping a sheep. I can’t. They’re just shapes. According to the psychiatrist.

December 8, 2010
7 Reasons That Twitter Will Alter All Human Existence

Twitter: Fun? Yes. Useful? Yes. A culture-changing behemoth that will fundamentally alter all human existence? Yes. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Opinion. Twitter is a hotbed of instant opinion and, thanks to the medium, our ability to express opinion will remain undiminished. Unfortunately, also thanks to Twitter, all human opinion will eventually come to be expressed in 140 characters or less. Thus Machiavelli’s view of history as a tool for learning will change from:

“Whoever wishes to foresee the future must consult the past; for human events ever resemble those of preceding times. This arises from the fact that they are produced by men who ever have been, and ever shall be, animated by the same passions, and thus they necessarily have the same results.”

To:

“He’s just like his dad. Men are all the same. LOL.

And Albert Einstein’s,

“The population of the civilized countries is extremely dense as compared with former times; Europe today contains about three times as many people as it did a hundred years ago. But the number of leading personalities has decreased out of all proportion. Only a few people are known to the masses as individuals, through their creative achievements. Organisation has to some extent taken the place of leading personalities, particularly in the technical sphere, but also to a very perceptible extent in the scientific.”

Will become:

“People are becoming more stoopid. LOL”

And where we would once have had wordy treatises extolling considered opinion on the omniscient nature of the supreme being, we will have:

“God knows. LOL.”

2. Mimicry. And it’s not just that opinion will be condensed to insubstantial gibberish. Some people will eventually be reduced to saying nothing at all. Thanks to the retweet button, the lazy and unoriginal will find it possible to maintain discourse with others without ever stating any of their own thoughts or opinions at all. This will be familiar to anyone who has ever conversed with a Daily Mail reader or a viewer of Fox News but, the spectre of it escalating further is worrying indeed. Perhaps thanks to the constant retweeting, the world will be reduced to having just one opinion on any given subject. Rupert Murdoch’s, probably.

3. Courage. And it’s not just that we’ll lack opinions and the capability for extended expression. Humanity will eventually develop to lack courage. Because when we disagree with the opinion that someone has just retweeted: “Pink is for sissies. LOL”, we won’t reply, “No it isn’t. Chuck Norris wears pink underpants. LOL”, we’ll send a direct message to someone else saying, “Did you see what @RupertMurdoch1874 just said? Where does he get off saying that? LOL.” Because as people fear losing followers or public ridicule they become more and more timid and secretive and would rather whisper things to their friends in the corner. Sadly, however, they don’t become any less stupid.

4. Shame. Shame will disappear completely as a human emotion. As we increasingly rely on Twitter for information that we would previously have acquired through knowing stuff and learning and having a modicum of sense and whatnot – or even just old-fashioned googling things – we will eventually attempt to acquire all of our important life information from Twitter.

“Is Twitter down? LOL”

“Can I eat lamb that’s been in the fridge for over a day? LOL”

“Is it weird that my period’s six weeks late? LOL”

“Why am I getting so fat? LOL”

Seriously, if our dead ancestors came back from the grave and saw the things that people tweet, they’d…er…die again, of shame. And spin too. (Okay, I really didn’t think that metaphor through but at least I’m not brazenly parading my stupidity on Twitter full-time. No. I’m busy writing this. I’m saving my Twitter-stupidity for later).

5. Emotions. Human expression of emotion will also come to be affected by Twitter. People will no longer smile, cry, or frown, they will merely write “*smiles”, “*cries”, “*frowns”, “*throws self under a bus. LOL”, to denote emotion. Whether this will extend to mainstream media is a matter of conjecture (which is fortunate as that’s what I’m doing. I’m conjecting. I’m a conjector), but it’s easy to imagine rolling news channels with banners stating “M6 Traffic Jam Reaches Sixth Day *sticks bottom lip out”, “Man Found Guilty Of Sex Act With Goat *eeuuggghhh” and “Osama Bin Laden Captured *punches air with fist”. Well, actually the last one is hard to imagine. But at least emoting by using the asterisk is some progress from using smileys and emoticons, which is just abusing perfectly good punctuation-marks in order to make a stupid bloody sideways face.

6. Internationalism. As cultures interact on Twitter, entire national traits will disappear as the world becomes a more homogenous place. After all, anyone who is aware of the Twitter phenomenon that has been @theashes, will have noted that, after 234 years of trying, an American has been finally converted to following the glorious sport of cricket. This means that, in a mere 71,839,532,700 years, the entire population of the United States will be cricket lovers, and the world will be all the better for that. And then we can start converting China. Seriously, Cricket will be the world sport in…(Nope, my computer isn’t powerful enough to compute that. Probably at about the time when people return to the sea and the dinosaurs come back in their meteor).

7. LOL. As the phrase “LOL” becomes so ubiquitous that every last feckless bastard ends their tweets with it (this will probably happen in about six days time) and we come not to notice that we’re doing it altogether and forget its original meaning, there will come a moment when someone actually wants to write “laughing out loud” which, as it takes up too many characters, they will abbreviate to LOL. And as all tweets will already be suffixed “LOL”, the tweet “LOL. LOL.” will eventually occur. And that will be the moment that Twitter, or humanity (or both) will implode. Or explode. Either way, there will definitely be a plosion of some sort. LOL.

December 7, 2010
7 Reasons You Should Apologise For Not Walking

With the whole 7 Reasons team suffering from Ashes fever, it should come as no surprise that we can find inspiration in one of our favourite sporting events. We have to really. Nothing else is happening in our lives at the moment*. Today’s inspiration comes courtesy of Australian batsman, Michael Clarke, who earlier today smacked the cover off the ball, was caught by England’s Bradman* *and then hovered around the pitch for a while before not walking. Later, via twitter, he graciously apologised for not walking. Which got us thinking. Or one of us anyone. Why else should we apologise for not walking? Here are the results:

1. The Olympic Racewalk. Whether you decide to run in this event or get a bus, you are going to get disqualified. And that means letting your country down. And possibly wasting £2 if you choose the bus option. It’s disappointing behaviour and can only be rectified with a humbling apology. Unless you don’t get caught. In which case, nice one!

2. Stopping. If there is one thing worse than people who walk slowly, it is people who walk slowly and then stop right in front of you without any pre-warning. Idiots. We then have to take evasive action which involves stepping into the road in front of a cement mixer or going into Poundland. For that sense of paralysis we feel when we see horror unfold in front of us, we want an apology. And three rolls of masking tape. Espcially as they’re only a pound. Bargain.

3. Library. A place for quiet contemplation. You can’t be a quiet contemplater if you’re running around the library or driving your small motorbike. And it’s also pretty annoying for everyone else who has come in to get out of the rain. When the librarian says, ‘Ssssh!!!’, you shout, ‘SORRY!’.

4. Cyclists. This is a pavement. It was designed for walking/parking on. It was not designed for cycling on. There are cycle lanes for that. Or gyms. Get off your bike and apologise. Then get on your bike and ignore some traffic lights.

5. The Ozone Layer. If you are within walking distance of your destination, you should be walking. Getting in the car melts icebergs. And polar bears can’t swim for that long. So if you do insist on not walking, I recommend apologising before you set off and saying a small prayer on arrival. It won’t save the polar bear, but it will make you feel better.

6. Supermarket. Trolley rage is caused by one of two things. A wonky wheel or some muppet jogging around Tesco in a mankini searching for the cucumbers. A supermarket is not a place for mankinis and it is certainly not a place for jogging in them. No one wants to see that while deciding what to have for dinner. Apologise. Immediately. And then cover yourself up with a parsnip.

7. Captives. Historically, if a pirate had captured you – and I don’t mean you personally, you’d probably remember that – it was very bad form to refuse to walk the plank. Not only did pirates have to find another way to get rid of you, but the sharks that had been following for three hours went hungry. The least one should have done is apologise. And then used the plank to make a small desk.

*This only applies to Marc.***

**We’re disappointed if you had to read this. To give you a clue though, we’re referring to Alastair Cook.

***No it doesn’t. It applies to Jon.****

****Stop trying to get me in trouble.*****

*****I don’t need to try.

December 6, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: Badges

A long, long time ago, way back in the mists of 7 Reasons(.org) history, Jon promised that there would be badges for guest posters, and Marc rolled his eyes and said, “SHH! You’ll bankrupt us before we’ve even started.” But now, many months – possibly even a whole year later – we have an announcement to make about badges for guest posters.

We’ve never forgotten the promised badges, and just recently we took another look into the 7 Reasons coffers (once we’d located them in a dusty ante-room) to see if badges were now feasible. As we expectantly lifted the heavy wooden lid of our treasure chest it creaked with reassuring portent and, with the light of our torches to guide us, we peered into the interior of the dark, gloomy box.

To say that we were amazed by what we found there would be an understatement. After we had emptied the contents of the chest into a pile on the floor and methodically totalled it up, we were staggered.

So now, we can announce that the 7 Reasons Badge Fund stands at…(drum-roll)…(go on, just bang on the desk, no one will think you’re mad)…half a dead spider, a creased Post-it® note, the crumbs from several ginger nut biscuits, twelve business cards, a mug with a broken handle and a lemon. Plus some blue stuff that neither of us wanted to touch.

But necessity is the mother of invention and we’re nothing if not creative here so we’ve made badges anyway. For free. In Photoshop. So if you write (or have written) for us, you can now have a 7 Reasons Guest Writer badge simply by sending us a photograph of yourself. And we’ll send it back with your badge on it.

Not only will this help us achieve our goal of not running 7 Reasons at a loss one day, it’s also far more environmentally friendly than an actual, physical badge, which benefits the whole world. So the virtual badge is something worthy, it’s a force for good. It’s actually saving penguins.

A guest poster has already taken us up on our virtual badge offer (in fact, it’s what convinced him to write for us in the first place). Here is Sir Andrew Straussy jubilantly wearing his:

And here’s an owl wearing his (because one day, we hope to convince an owl to write for us (and the virtual badge is less cruel than an actual one)).

We also sent (to the lady herself) a picture of Jennifer Aniston wearing a badge and we received this in return.

So this probably means that marriage is still out of the question.

Anyway, the point of all of these badge-related-shenanigans is to mention that we’re currently looking for more guest posts. So, if you’ve never written for us, or if you have; if you have an idea, or even half an idea (because that’s how we work most of the time), then please get in touch.

We have always felt genuinely honoured and flattered that brilliant people, who write to such a high standard, have submitted pieces for us to use, and we hope that – one day – we will be able to reward their endeavours with something more tangible than our thanks, our admiration and our love (which, to be honest may put people off). Perhaps in the form of a badge, perhaps in the form of money, perhaps we will build a shrine, who knows? Anyway, however we decide to reward guest posters when we are dripping with the riches of Croseous, the fact remains that we aren’t right now, but we do feel genuinely humble – and honoured – that people read us regularly and that people allow us to use their work.

Anyway, if you fancy earning yourself some thanks, some publicity and a virtual badge then email [email protected]. We don’t promise to use everything that’s sent to us (because, well, we might not like it, and if we didn’t have standards, then we wouldn’t feel proud of our own website ). We will always consider it, however, and are happy to offer guidance or advice, where solicited.

Here’s a brief guide to writing a post for us. Thanks,

Marc and Jon.

December 5, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Eating Out Is Better Than Cooking At Home

Welcome to another Saturday. We can’t take credit for the weekend, but we can take credit for the sensational Guest Post slot. Over the last year we have had a diverse mix of guest post, but the one thing we haven’t had is someone telling us why we should go out to eat. Today that changes as we are joined on the 7 Reasons sofa by Sophie Jenkins. I say we are ‘joined’, that’s not exactly true. The 7 Reasons sofa has been abandoned somewhere between York and Kent due to snow. So Sophie is actually alone. But that’s good because she can put her feet up. Which is not something you can do if you eat out. But that’s the only disadvantage there is, as Sophie now explains. And if you like what you read you may well want to check out Bookatable. Maybe on the Bookatable website, the Bookatable facebook page or the Bookatable twitter page. They’ve got it covered.

Dirty Dinner by Cinnamon Cooper

1. Laziness. The first obvious reason is ease. Just go out to eat! No cooking, no washing up all those pans (pans are the worst, cutlery is easy), no cleaning the mess you made in the kitchen. Just book a table, turn up at the restaurant, order, eat, pay and leave. Preferably in that order. In the words of Aleksandr the meerkat – Simples!

2. Shopping. No food shopping, trudging around busy and noisy (and often freezing cold) supermarkets trying to decide what on earth to buy. Even if you have a recipe in mind, the supermarket will no doubt have run out of the ingredients you need, or they will be too bizarre to ever feature on the shelves anyway. If you do find the necessary ingredients after hours of hunting, you then have the fun of lugging heavy bags home too! None of this at a restaurant, because of…..

3. Service. These are perhaps all following the ‘lazy’ thread, but at a restaurant you are not only allowed to be lazy, you are meant to be lazy. People are there to wait on you hand and foot! Plus it’s not like at home, where your parents/partner/younger sibling/flatmate have a moan about being subjected to your orders – in a restaurant people are paid to serve you and not complain about it! Dream come true?

4. Taste. What are you going to cook at home? Spaghetti bolognaise again?! Boring. Maybe you will try to branch out and cook something new. Erm, this doesn’t taste right…Just eat out! You can eat food you would never in a million years be able to cook, try food you have never seen or heard of before! Even if you do order the usual spag bol, it’s going to taste better than what you would have thrown together at home. Do you have a Michelin star? No. Does the chef at the restaurant? Well, that depends on the restaurant I suppose.

5. Safety. Oops, is the microwave meant to be flaming? You can eat pork medium-rare, right? What happened to the hamster…? No risk of fire, flooding, and much less risk of food poisoning. It is much safer to ditch the oven and eat out every night instead. Let a professional take care of the difficult and dangerous bits, while you sit in comfort and stress-free safety.

6. Convenience. A friend/grandparent/in-law wants to see you for lunch. The house looks like a bomb has hit it from the party you had the night before. You woke up late, hungover, and definitely don’t have time to tidy the mess AND cook an impressive meal! Meet at a restaurant instead! There is no need for anyone to set foot in the nightmare that is your house, or any chance of that impressive meal becoming an inedible disaster. Eating out makes life so much easier (and if you foot the bill it still looks like you made a huge effort).

7. Surprise. When you pop into a restaurant, you never know who you will meet – Johnny Depp might be sat at the table next to you (fingers and toes crossed)! He is, however, less likely to turn up at your house for your spicy chilli, no matter how infamous it may be (have to cross your toes as well as fingers for that one).

You can make online table bookings for free through sites like Bookatable.com, from chains like Prezzo to high-end restaurants such as The Ivy. It couldn’t be easier if it tried!

December 4, 2010