Tag: 7 reasons

7 Reasons That Staying in for Halloween was Disappointing

We never stay in on Halloween and this year we were due to go out for a meal and to see a film. But my wife decided at the last-minute that she didn’t want to go out; she wanted to stay in and watch Downton Abbey. So, we braced ourselves for the inevitable throng of trick-or-treaters and settled in for the night. But none came. And, though by any normal measure, I should be pleased about that. It was disappointing. Here are seven reasons why.

We don’t really live in a spooky mansion, this is just for illustration. We live in a spooky town-house.

1. Ouch. Evening came and it became dark. We had decided on the timeless strategy of pretending-to-be-out, so we didn’t put the lights on. And, after several minutes of darkness, I fell over the cat in the hallway. This clearly wasn’t going to work, so we had to limp to the shops.

2. Money. In order to stay in – in our own home – we spent £4 on sweets. To give to the children that would surely be round coming round in droves demanding them. Because trick-or-treating isn’t nice. It’s an old-fashioned mafia style shakedown. But unlike the mafia, they often come round with their parents, so you can’t tell them to sod off. Because that would make them cry (the children that is, the parents probably have their own reasons for crying). So we spent money on sweets for them so that we didn’t have to sit in the dark and pretend to be out. But they didn’t come. And that’s £4 wasted. We could have bought over twenty-four litres of sparkling mineral water for that. Or two-thirds of a sandwich at a petrol station.

3. Money. But then I realised that it isn’t just £4 that we’ve wasted. Because we go out every year to avoid the inevitable plague of trick-or-treaters. But this is expensive and, over the years, we must have spent many hundreds of pounds avoiding trick-or-treaters. Obviously we’ve had lots of fun, consumed many nice meals and enjoyable beers, and seen many good films; but that isn’t the point. We were there for Halloween avoidance. What if the children haven’t come every year? We’ve spent all that money needlessly, and had all that pointless fun. For nothing.

4. Argument. We’ve never argued on Halloween before, but this time we did. We argued about who would go out and give sweets to the trick-or-treaters when they came to the door. “It’s Halloween”, my wife said, “you could go out there and scare the children with your mask”.

“Yes, but you could go out there and scare them with your dressing gown”, I replied. And I seem to have won the argument, because she didn’t argue with me further or, in fact, say anything much at all after that. But the argument was moot, because of the absence of trick-or-treaters.

5. Sweets. Because no children came to our house, we now have a huge bowl of sweets and no children to give it to. This means that we’ll have to eat them. But we’re grown-ups, and when grown-ups eat sweets they don’t run around in a sugar-frenzy, they sit still. And get fat. And we don’t want to become hideously fat. We want the neighbour’s children to become hideously fat. And then they won’t run around playing football in the alley behind our house. Our plan’s in tatters.

6. Rejection. As we’re usually out for Halloween, we have no idea of how it works. We sat waiting for trick-or-treaters until gone midnight. But surely they’ll come, we thought. Where are they? We felt unloved and rejected. We checked our armpits and speculated on why no children had come. And then, the only possible explanation occurred to us.

7. Spooky. I don’t believe in the supernatural or the sort of strange phenomena that is celebrated on Halloween because frankly, it’s a big load of guff. But I’m quite happy being a sneering sceptic; in fact, I’m quite well suited to it. But the non-arrival of the children was a genuinely spooky event. Because the last time we’d been in on Halloween – six years ago – we’d forgotten about it, didn’t have any sweets in the house, and had resorted to giving the children fruit and telling them that it was much better for them. And somehow, despite six years having elapsed and despite many children having come and gone from our street, the children somehow knew that we were the house of the fruit and they avoided us. The children knew. Creepy.

November 1, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: Halloween Special

Hi, Marc here. Happy Halloween. Jon and I thought long and hard about what to bring you on el Día de los Muertos and, having considered it for some time we began working on a project early last week. Then things went a bit awry, and we ended up postponing it until next year. So it was left to me to write the Halloween special alone. And, looking into the dark recesses of my soul for inspiration, I came up with a horror-filled tale of woe and dread. Do not read on if you are of a nervous disposition. Or if you are a lover of poetry.

1

‘Twas a crisp, moonlit night, and all was still,

yet into the house came a terrible chill,

the creak of a door, an inrush of air,

the muffled report of a foot on the stair.

2

The woman awoke, and sat with a start,

with trembling hands, and a racing heart,

was it her husband, returned from the bar?

Was it a spectre, or a burglar?

3

A rustling sound rose up from the kitchen,

and this resolved her to spring into action,

Shrilly, she called, in a faltering voice,

“Who is that down there, that’s causing the noise?”

4

No answer was given, to her nervous query,

she listened and listened, the silence was eerie,

and so it was, with a palpable dread,

she resolved to get up and stepped out of the bed.

5

She crossed the room swiftly, donning her gown,

tiptoed through the door and prepared to go down,

to discover who-knew-what was down there.

She stifled a whimper and went down the stairs.

6

Breathlessly she crept, along the hallway,

and when she arrived at the kitchen doorway,

she flung open the door, and switched on the light,

and then she received the most terrible fright.

7

She recoiled in horror, and let out a shriek,

she fell to the floor unable to speak,

she covered her eyes and continued to scream,

‘twas quite the most horrible thing that she’d seen.

8

So what was this horror, this terror, this sight?

That haunted the kitchen in the dead of night?

The most hideous thing she ever will see,

‘twas the bone-chilling mask of Jonathan Lee.

Have a great Halloween! Oh, and if you haven’t read it yet, this comes highly recommended: 7 Reasons we Should Trick-or-Treat Ourselves out of the Deficit

October 31, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Student Accommodation Can Be Rather Tiresome

Something a bit special is happening on the 7 Reasons sofa today. For the first time ever, one Lee is being replaced by another. I, Jon, am stepping aside and handing control of 7 Reasons over to my brother, Rob. This may backfire quite substantially, but for the sake of me having a day off , it is a risk I am more than happy to take. If you enjoy Rob’s ranting you may be interested in reading his first book, Shattered Souls. It contains no ranting, but does feature a place called RedFjord. Amazon are also currently offering a very generous 90p discount which is quite a bonus. Right, here’s Rob. I’m off out to buy some more asterisks.

1. The Fridge. The fridge is always too small. Always. What is it about landlords and small fridges? Do they not think that their tenants might want to buy food? We don’t all survive on takeaway and ready meals y’know. Some of us can even use rudimentary kitchen utensils, or combine ingredients that aren’t cheese, tomato sauce, and frozen chips. Despite this, it’s always a case of having one shelf in the fridge. I don’t know about you, but cheese takes up about half the space in mine, let alone any other food. And no I am not willing to freeze it. Frozen cheese is an abomination. Step one, get bigger fridges.

2. The Builders. Why is it that student landlords always have builders doing ‘things’ with the house? Things which are seemingly unnecessary, and even these are invariably done badly. So the landlord is called; he/she is forced to come round; then they call back the same builders who did it wrong in the first place!* Even worse, they give them keys to the property. Yes, do go in, don’t mind them, they’re just sleeping**. The landlord comes out with things like ‘don’t lock your door so my builders can get in’. What? I’m not leaving my door unlocked in a student neighbourhood – I may as well just leave my valuables on a park bench with a ‘Take-Me Big Boy’ sign. I’m also not letting some Charlie I’ve never met, wander about, knocking bits out of the place I’m living, without someone there to stop him. (Or her. We’re very broad minded here).

3. The Neighbours. Student housing has neighbours. Invariably only about two feet away from you and separated by a wall about as thick as a cream cracker. This is not good when one wishes to sleep. Especially because the neighbours always seem to be nocturnal and have absolutely no taste in music. Music which they broadcast to the entire street***. Neighbours shouldn’t be allowed.

4. The Parking. There isn’t any. Many students have cars so they can move their collection of road signs, traffic cones, novelty hats and foreign vodka from one place to another. Lots of cars and no parking is an equation that doesn’t work. It also means walking anywhere becomes a game of car-dodgems from idiots who, having shared their lack of taste in music with the street, have decided to drive down the one you’re walking along.

5. The Bathrooms. There’s only ever one. This is annoying when you’ve just got in from a post seminar drink and discover you have to wait half an hour to use the facilities. Either that or you nip back round the corner to the local public house to use theirs and nearly end up locked in because you’ve discovered the only pub in the area which kept to a closing time of 11pm when all the rest changed to an hour before dawn****.

6. The Annual Quest For Housing. Unless you happen to be lucky enough to be in a house which is not leaking, falling down, being sold to a private individual who doesn’t want to live with students, being sold to another landlord who seems to think letting to undergrads will be easier than letting to postgrads, a pit, too small, too big, too expensive, neighboured by idiots called Nelson who keep getting stoned and wandering about outside shouting ‘Hash’ at 3am in the morning***** and then playing their music so loud that industrial-level earplugs make no difference, then you invariably find yourself moving. (Insert breath here). This effectively entails scouring housing lists on the internet and engaging in the blind battle that is finding the only decent place before all the other people do. This process is annoying, especially because it also means parting with large amounts of money in the form of deposits which you’ve only just got back from the last place******.

7. The students. There’s far too many of them*******.

*Not all builders get it wrong, some are very good at their job, however, student landlords like it cheap. Cheap and good don’t go together in building work, ask the bridge builders of Delhi.

**No, not as you may imagine at 3pm in the afternoon, but in fact at 6am when the banging starts. And by banging I don’t mean another apparently favourite activity of the undergraduate student.

***Unhappily half the time much of the street is broadcasting back, and Classic FM it certainly isn’t, it’s not even Radio 2.

**** This may or may not have happened. It does not particularly help if you just returned from a smart do and are dressed in black trousers white shirt – the staff may think you work in the cellar. This also may or may not have occurred.

*****This did happen. Many times. Many many times (a little classic comedy nod there, if you know what it refers to then I’m sure Julian and Sandy will see you right).

******Yes, everyone renting has to pay deposits, so feel free to join in being annoyed about this point even if you’re not in the university system.

*******As a postgrad I don’t consider myself a student, especially since I teach the little terrors (ahem, the academic future of this country) too. Postgrads are excluded from the above rants. Unless Nelson ever becomes a postgrad. I won’t worry about him reading this; I don’t imagine he knows how to read.

October 30, 2010
7 Reasons That Riding A Segway Was Disappointing

On Wednesday, a group of us went to the National Railway Museum in York to take advantage of their new attraction, a Segway ride. Having spent the week eagerly anticipating this outing I was rather excited. But it turns out that riding a Segway was disappointing. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Waiting. There were four Segways, and there were more than four people in front of us. That meant that we had to wait. And while we waited, we could see Segways, but we weren’t on them. And, not only were we not on them. No one was on them. But still we had to wait. Because waiting is compulsory. And we got hungry. So we talked about food and got hungrier and hungrier and hungrier. Ideally we wanted our Segways to be made of cheese when we got to them.

2. The Course. The wait allowed us to observe the Segway course close-up and for some time. We realised that there was a slightly raised kerb in the middle of a bend; an observation that filled us with dread. Still, one of us had heard that it’s physically impossible to fall off a Segway and we were reassured by this. And also the course was surrounded by a massive inflatable barrier, so if you went off course you’d drive into something soft. And bounce off it and land on the concrete floor. And then get run over by a Segway.

3. The Outfit. Apparently jeans, a brown merino knit sweater, a grey blazer and a pink, purple, brown and white striped scarf is not the correct outfit for riding a Segway (or riding anything else when visible to people). To ride a Segway, you are required to dress as Robocop. The kit includes a black helmet and several pieces of black body armour: wrist guards, knee and shin guards, and elbow and forearm guards. All we lacked was a bullet-proof chest-guard and a flame-resistant codpiece. They, presumably, are available on request.

4. The Briefing. The briefing went on for a very long time. I have no idea what was being said, as it was a briefing. While Harry (the briefer) pointed at Segways and gesticulated wildly, I was wondering if the pope wears white underpants or whether he occasionally puts on red ones when he’s feeling frisky. Then the impossible happened: A man fell off a Segway. I realised that this was probably unrelated to my papal contemplation (unless god was smiteing inaccurately that day), but it did get my attention and made me resolve to listen. And then the briefing ended.

5. Danger. The first Segway arrived and it was time to go. It was not made of cheese. A friend prepared to mount it while his girlfriend and I watched, expectantly; hoping to see him careen crazily out of control and hurtle into an inflatable barrier or even fall off in a less spectacular manner; we didn’t mind. The important thing was that he should fall off. He didn’t. He did lurch back-and-forth alarmingly for several seconds before performing an inadvertent pirouette which got our hopes up, but then he set off quite steadily and sedately. This was very disappointing.

6. Then It Was My Turn. I stepped on to the Segway and, while everyone watched, expectantly, hoping to see me careen crazily out of control and hurtle into an inflatable barrier, I leant forward and I was away. Soon, I reached a corner and leaned back to slow down, and I slowed down. Then, I steered into the corner and the Segway went into the corner. It was undramatic. It turns out that Segways are the simplest vehicle in the world to operate. I seemed to have the slowest one ever made because, despite going quickly through the corners, I was slower on the straight than everyone else. I was even lapped twice by a small boy, who seemed to revel in whooshing past me as close as he could. It was slower than running or cycling and not much more fun. And I could have wiped the floor with the small boy at running or cycling. And I could beat him at Trivial Pursuit. And arm-wrestling.

7. The Video. Later, after the event was over, we settled down to watch the video, which was filmed by my non-Segway-riding wife using my phone. I had pressed record and handed the phone to her the correct way up before wandering off to don my Robocop costume. Within thirty seconds she was filming in portrait, rather than landscape and the phone was upside-down. She doesn’t seem to have wondered why the part of the phone facing her bore the word “ǝƃuɐɹo” at all. Fortunately I noticed this and, the highlight of the video is a tall upside-down man with a gaudy scarf and partial body armour explaining the finer points of holding a phone the right way up. The rest of the video consists of two minutes of footage of slow moving Segways, nine minutes of slow moving Segways obscured by the inflatable barrier she decided to go and stand behind, one and a half minutes of giant index finger and forty-five seconds of gazing longingly at an ice cream van (which is the second best bit). Overall, a disappointment.

October 29, 2010
7 Reasons We Should Trick Or Treat Ourselves Out Of The Deficit

At 7 Reasons (.org) we’re humourists, writers, film-makers and…well…those things. Occasionally though – very occasionally – we branch out. And today is one of those days. Because we’ve just had a really good idea. A brilliant idea, in fact. Britain can drag itself out of the current recession by trick-or-treating. Yes, that’s right. we really did just say “Britain can drag itself out of the current recession by trick-or-treating”. And it will work. Here are seven reasons why:

1. History. In Victorian Britain, you could barely move for ragamuffins up chimneys and urchins being put to work in blacking factories. Not to mention girls in t’mill or plying their trade as occasional flower-vendors. And Britain was the most prosperous, powerful and advanced society of the age; all built on the ruthless exploitation of children. Trick-or-treating our way out of the deficit is essentially a more modern and palatable version of the Victorian model. History commands us to do it.

2. Big Society. Love them or hate them, the Tory flagship policy is something called the ‘Big Society’. The premiss, if we understand it correctly, is that it empowers local people. Demanding treats from old ladies is also pretty empowering. Some people, especially those with chainsaws, are really good at getting big treats. Logic dictates therefore, that trick-or-treating is right up Big Society’s street. Which is convenient as this is where we should all be going on Sunday night. With or without tree surgeon utensils.

3. Balance of Payments. Americans are the greatest per capita consumers of confectionery in the world*. Having trick-or-treated vast quantities of sweets from our neighbours, we can export them to America. Not only will this be a healthy profit for Britain, it will also be a healthy profit for America; the nation that owns most British sweet manufacturers. This perpetual transatlantic sweet transaction will enrich both nations to the point where they will be able to rid themselves of their burdensome debts and counter the economic threat of emerging nations such as China and India.**

4. Incentive. Trick-or-treating happens once a year. Assuming you are doing it properly that is. If we fail to eradicate the deficit this year, we will have to live through a year of cuts until October 30th 2011 when we’ll get another go. Paper cuts, however necessary, are bad. Bread knife cuts, however necessary, are even worse. Bowl cuts, however necessary, are worse still. And they are nothing compared to the cuts, however necessary, that the coalition have just announced. So if you don’t want to get cut, get out there and get some money. Or some Dairy Milks.

5. Pumpkins. Most people who knock on doors and ask for a donation carry charity boxes. The volume of these is seldom satisfactory and rarely saves so much as a tin of tuna let alone a Whale. A pumpkin however can be very satisfactory in size. So, once you’ve hollowed out your pumpkin – but before you’ve made eyes and stuck a candle inside – whip up and down the street a few times. Actually, make it once. People might get annoyed/poor if you get repetitive. Oh, and once you’ve finished with your pumpkin, sell it. Ideally to Americans. They wear them on their heads.

6. George Osborne. Only time will tell, but given the current economic climate it is likely that Osborne will go down in history as either a genius or a buffoon. It’s fair to say, that at the time of writing, many people think he is a buffoon and they’d like to give him a slap on the chops. To others though, he is seen as a strongly-willed man making tough decisions when they are required. These people want to shake his hand. Sadly, George doesn’t have enough hands or chops to go around. Which is where this genius 7 Reasons idea comes in: Many people like dressing up and wearing masks when they set about trick or treating. This year all trick-or-treaters should wear a George Osborne mask. This way, for one night only, people all over the land get the chance to slap or shake the Chancellor.

7. They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? In the Great Depression (the last time things were this bad) people kept themselves entertained by participating in many dubious activities and entertainments: Dance marathons, jigsaw puzzles, penny-a-card bingo, pointing at aeroplanes and beating hoops with sticks were all popular leisure activities during the 1930s. By using these soporifically tedious activities to distract themselves from the straitened economic circumstances and widespread hardship, people were able to gaily throw their woes aside and the national mood – in contrast to the economy – was one of buoyancy. In 2010, we can learn from the past. By participating in something as brain-achingly tedious as walking up and down the street in the cold and meeting the neighbours – or ceaselessly answering the front door and meeting the neighbours – we will improve national morale and, with a new, breezy confidence to fortify it, the nation will boldly march its way clear of the deficit. And all because of trick-or-treat.***

*We assume, based on having seen them.

**This should work. We have no idea why “professional” economists didn’t think of this sooner.

***The 7 Reasons team can be hired for the writing of manifestos and speeches and are willing to discuss the exchange of principles for money. Or tea. Or tiramisu.

October 28, 2010
7 Reasons 7 Reasons Has Been An Unmitigated Success

Exactly a year ago today, 7 Reasons was born in York and Fulham. If you weren’t there – and it’s highly likely you weren’t – you will have missed our very first post, 7 Reasons This Blog Was Created. I don’t think we have ever met the high standards that piece of literary genius set, but we have certainly given it our best shot. Except on Thursdays. That day just never really happened for us. As we have somehow made it a year I think it would be useful* to look back and see if we have stuck to the principles we outlined 365 days ago.

1. “People like lists. This is a well known fact. Shopping lists, to-do lists, Wedding lists, the list is endless. It adds structure to people’s lives. Structure is good. It makes people feel in control. We like control.” – We have certainly controlled a part of your life. A small part maybe, but a part none the less. For three of you, 7 Reasons has become a staple part of your daily diet. You can not remember life when you didn’t know 7 Reasons Why Lemons Would Make You Sick. And more is the point, you don’t want to. And as for the rest of you, well you may read 7 Reasons on an ad hoc basis. Even so, we have still have a presence in your mind. We are still controlling you. Just not as well as we’d wish.

2. “Seven is one of our favourite numbers. The number seven is the only number less than fifteen which cannot be represented as the sum of the squares of three integers. We like that (probably).” – Seven remains one of our favourite numbers. That is all that needs saying on this one. If I start talking about integers I’ll confuse my keyboard.

3. “It gives us something to think about on the train or the bus or while walking to the post box. Instead of thinking, ‘Isn’t that woman’s blouse so last season?’ it gives us the chance to think of seven reasons why she is wearing that blouse. This tests our imagination. We like creativity.” – It could never be argued that we don’t think about 7 Reasons on the train or the bus. Indeed, such environments have inspired some of our finest pieces. And some of our worst. But that’s the beauty of 7 Reasons. The brilliant pieces only exist because there are substandard efforts mixed in. Without these everything would appear mediocre. And we already have Switzerland for that. And as for thinking about 7 Reasons whilst walking to the post box, well we’ve done that once too. A cat followed one of us back. Fifty lemons followed the other.

4. “On average we waste seven minutes a day thinking, ‘what shall I do next’. That’s the equivalent of 42 hours a year. In 42 hours you could comfortably travel around the world or hold your breath for 2520 consecutive minutes. Both of these are highly dangerous and more often that not result in Deep Vein Thrombosis or death. This blog is an antidote to both. We like saving lives.” – As far as we are aware, in the last year no one has died because they tried to hold their breath for 2520 consecutive minutes. It would be too easy to say, ‘Well, it probably wouldn’t have happened anyway.’ Have a bit of humility and accept that 7 Reasons has saved lives. Except Paul the Octopus’. But he tried to hold his breath for his entire lifespan. We can’t help muppets.

5. “Sometimes people take things far too seriously. Life should not be about taking things seriously. It should be about frivolity and nonsense. Seriousness gives us sensible shoes and Jeremy Paxman. They are bad. It’s time to be far more light-hearted. We like joy.” – Without 7 Reasons the world would no doubt have imploded on worry by now. Yes, so a couple of bad things have happened in the last year. ‘So what?’ That’s the 7 Reasons attitude. ‘Let’s look on the bright side’. And that’s just what we did. When we didn’t vote in a coalition Government but got one anyway, it was 7 Reasons – and 7 Reasons alone – who hailed it the greatest thing that could have happened. It was 7 Reasons – and 7 Reasons alone – who finally made it acceptable to cycle in the nude. It was 7 Reasons – and 7 Reasons alone – who encouraged the invasion of France. 7 Reasons gave joy.

6. “Sometimes people don’t take things at all seriously. They should. Life is a serious business. Without seriousness we get Balloon Boy and Ken Dodd. They are bad. It’s time to look at things with far more thoughtfulness. We like serious.” – It’s a good job that 7 Reasons has existed in the past twelve months because without it the world would have turned into a laughing stock. It was 7 Reasons – and 7 Reasons alone – who pointed out the glaring flaws in naming Ryan Giggs as 2009 Sports Personality of the Year. It was 7 Reasons – and 7 Reasons alone – who advised against driving golf buggies up the M4. It was 7 Reasons – and 7 Reasons alone – who finally gave those who look like a horse the confidence to go out and not let it be a barrier to achieving success.** 7 Reasons gave seriousness another go.

7. “It’s the 21st Century and in the 21st Century you have to be able to back up what you say or do. It’s no good saying, ‘I just bought a new drill’ and then shrugging when your loved one asks why. You must have a reason. Other than, ‘because it had 25% off’. So there needs to be a database to help you answer that question. This is what we will provide. We like drills.” – Ironically, or stupidly, we have never provided you with 7 Reasons I Bought A New Drill, however, we do have the biggest database of reasons anywhere in the world.*** And we only have to read the ‘keyword analysis’ of this website to see that everyone is using this site from students, to the BBC, to pregnant women looking for a place to urinate to men who are wondering if it is acceptable to shake hands after touching their penis. No one can argue that 7 Reasons isn’t the ultimate self-help website.

*Useful in the fact that it means I don’t have to think too much about today’s post.

**We take no responsibility for Sarah Jessica Parker making Sex and the City 2.

***Logic dictates this. Who else would spend a year thinking up over 2000 reasons for random things?

October 27, 2010
7 Reasons That The Correct Font is Important

Fonts: Sometimes we don’t pay enough attention to them, but choosing the correct one is vital for your project; be it a full blown advertising campaign, a sign for your office, a Christmas card or a publicity photo. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Playfulness. Kristen is a lovely, whimsical, childlike font which, when used correctly, imbues the work with a sense of playfulness and naivety. When used incorrectly however, it is not as effective:

The message Drive to the East was intended as a call to invasion and conquest. This poster may still encourage people to drive East, but now they’ll be doing it in Smart cars whilst drinking Innocent smoothies and listening to Death Cab For Cutie. The Kristen font is too jaunty for Hitler.

2. Menace. Similarly, Fraktur is a font associated with much Nazi propaganda and many of their legal notices. When used in this context however, it rather blurs the message:

Even the sad face can’t rescue this one. The font exudes menace and it makes it appear more of a threat than an appeal: That if you don’t give them money, ranks of jack-booted stormtroopers will goose-step on poor Flopsy. :’-( Still quite an effective message though.

3. Cool. Some fonts – Sidewalk in this instance – are rather cool and edgy and, when used sparingly, can really make an impact.

When making a sign for the office kitchen though, they tend to work less well. The thoughts of the users of the office kitchen will probably range from, “What in god’s name is that abomination on the wall?!” to, “Wow! Emma’s like the coolest person ever to have put up a sniffy notice about washing teacups. Ever.”

4. Minimalism. The moon: A cold, empty, stark place which requires an appropriately minimal font and, when putting together an article on whether man will return to the moon, it’s important to use one. And not this:

French Script really isn’t doing this picture any favours. It’s over-elaborate, cluttered, and just not spacey enough. And it’s French. They’ve never been to the moon. They rarely go as far as Sussex.

5. Seasonality. Christmas: Evocative of roaring fires, presents, carol singing, peace, goodwill and happy families spending quality time together at home.

But when your Christmas card features the Digital Readout Thick Upright font, you introduce the spectre of The Terminator into the traditional family Christmas, and that doesn’t seem like it will go well. Even if he does bring presents from the future.

6. Clarity. Clean crisp fonts such as Gill Sans exude class. With a plain, unfussy font your carefully chosen words are showcased to their best advantage. The BBC use Gill Sans, and the famous Volkswagen Lemon advert used a similar font. Sometimes though, it’s not a good idea to go minimal:

Because the reader’s attention is drawn to every error and mad utterance in your crazed internet rant. And yes, I did cut and paste this from a comment on one of our posts. Answers on a postcard?

7. Gasp! There’s a lot of snobbery around the use of MS Comic Sans. And many perfectly reasonable people say that it should never, ever be used; there are websites and Facebook groups that campaign against it. But they’re wrong. Because I’ve found a use for it:

You can use it to take perfectly good, artfully shot publicity photos, and make them funnier. I’m so happy with this one that I’m not even going to charge for it. Finally, a use for Comic Sans.

October 26, 2010
7 Reasons Rome Clearly Had It In For Me

As an Englishman, when I travel abroad I like to cause as little trouble as possible. Sadly, when I went to Rome, trouble looked for me.

1. Roads. Now, call me a traditionalist, but I like two things from my roads. One: they should be fit for vehicles to manoeuvre up and down, and two: there should be occasional sets of traffic lights where those who have decided to travel upon foot can cross the road safely. While Rome provides both roads and traffic lights, it seems as if someone forgot to tell the drivers to stop when the little green man appears. As a result my holiday was nearly abruptly ended by six cars, two buses, fourteen mopeds and one skater.

2. Maps. I know it sounds like a cliche, but when one sees a free map, they should pick it up. I did just that. And for most of the first day I was able to understand it – we were still in Rome at least. That was until I started walking back to the hotel. The designers, in their Italian wisdom, had decided to mark the main tourist attractions on the map using small, 3D illustrations. And, to be fair to them, they did resemble the real-life draws. Unfortunately, they rarely appeared on the map facing the right direction. Consequently, I spent much of the walk home looking for the steps leading to the Campidoglio on the wrong road. To cut a long story short, we ended up back where we had started an hour earlier and I never held possession of the map again.

3. Wine. It is a well known fact in 7 Reasons circles that I am something of an amateur tea connoisseur. Sadly this is the only liquid based-substance that I have such a relationship with. Wine, for example, is something of an unknown quantity to me. There are three things I know about it. One, it comes in white; two, it comes in red; and, three, it should not be thrown over your girlfriend. Sadly, while Rome offered both white and red varieties, it also offered the opportunity for me to knock a glass over. Which I promptly accepted.

4. Gladiators. They’re an amorous lot. Even the fake ones hanging around the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Pantheon. Actually, let’s just call it Rome. They’re everywhere. And they took far too much of a liking to my girlfriend. If they weren’t trying to kiss her they were calling her Princess or offering to slay me. Yes, I know, it’s enough to make one quite nauseous. I mean, it was the type of behaviour I’d expect from the French or Piers Morgan.

5. String Sellers. Standing at the top of the Spanish Steps I was accustomed by two gentlemen, who – without invitation – decided to wrap string around my wrist. I was rather taken with the colours so allowed them to continue. ‘How nice,’ I thought, ‘no one has ever tied my wrists up in England before.’. As the string wound it’s way around my wrist to form a bracelet, I was told to make three wishes. ‘How nice,’ I thought, ‘this chap is certainly more friendly than that genie in a bottle.’. When he had finished, the other nice man decided to open his wallet to show me all the lovely notes inside. Initially I thought I got to choose which denomination of Euro I’d like, but after asking for €20 he became a bit grumpy. For a minute I thought he was asking me for money. Then I realised he actually was. At which point we became embroiled in a bitter stand off. They both wanted money for a bit of string, I wanted the string but not at a price. Sadly this story comes to a hugely anti-climatic end as, instead of letting me enjoy a bit of a fracas with Mussolini and Pinocchio, my girlfriend decided to gallop over and drag me away. At which point Pinocchio got all precious, whipped out his toe-nail clippers and cut the string. In doing so all my wishes were cast aside. Which just goes to show, in Rome you have to pay at least €5 for a yacht, a unlimited supply of tea-bags and a speaking dolphin.

6. Sarah. If I were a woman, and I can’t in all honesty say I have ever considered it as a career option, I suspect Sarah would be a name I would strongly consider. Or at least it would have been had I not been called it dozens upon dozens of times in Rome. On the first night, I assumed I had just done something effeminate with my hair, but, having altered my style every night thereafter, the Sarah-tag just wouldn’t leave. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Then I discovered they were actually saying, ‘Sera’. It means, ‘Evening’. I felt silly.

7. Hotel. I chose our hotel, so, upon arrival, I was somewhat relieved to find that I had indeed booked us into somewhere quite nice. There were no tea and coffee facilities, but on the plus side we did get slippers. The hotel carried on being pleasant until our final night when we suddenly noticed dozens of blue flashing lights creeping through the shutters in our room. Upon moving to the window, we opened the shutters to see the street lined with Police. And looking to our left we saw the start of a protest rally. Half an hour later the rally was holding a noisy, sit-down protest. In the road. Right outside our hotel. Like I say though, we did have slippers.

October 25, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: One Year In Numbers!

Wednesday 27th October 2010 marks the first birthday of 7 Reasons. In the past year we have written approximately 2,000 reasons. Which, thinking about it, is 1,993 more than we should have done. We have also had countless guest writers and hundreds upon hundreds of comments. Some good, mostly anti-Jon. All in all, it’s been pretty good. Hopefully year two will be even better. Maybe a book? Maybe a panel show? Maybe we’ll finally appear in Esquire? Who knows. But that’s the future. Today, I want to concentrate on what we’ve achieved.

Right, now that’s done, we can move on. Oh, but before we do, can we just say thank you to everyone who has read 7 Reasons over the last year. And give an even bigger thank you to those who have commented on and/or shared 7 Reasons posts. And then there needs to be an even bigger thank you to all those who have written for us. Saturdays wouldn’t be the same without you. Now let’s hug. Okay, that’s long enough. Someone’s lemon is pressing into my thigh.

October 24, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons You Should Always Ask Who Is On The Other Side Of The Door Before Opening

Another Saturday, another guest post. It’s almost as if it was what Saturdays were made for. Almost. Of course, they’re not. Saturdays were made for sport. But we can’t provide you with that here. So you’re getting a guest post. And today it comes from Sam Murray who, as well as making his debut on the 7 Reasons sofa, also sets a new ‘longest post title’ record. Well done Sam. Right, I’m off. There’s someone at the door. Which is quite a coincidence really considering Sam’s post is written in association with Door Stop, composite door manufacturers who are leading the way in providing U Value doors to the trade and construction industry.

A door in its purest sense is a moveable barrier used to cover an opening. Pretty handy and an invention I am sure we are not surprised to learn has been about since the dawn of time. The door was invented before the coming of any advanced civilization and was used by the earliest primitive people, maybe for some of the reasons below:

1. To Protect Yourself Against Vampires. According to Vampire folklore and mythology before a Vampire can enter your home you have to invite them in. Now I have not come across many vampires in my time but I am pretty sure that this is not because they are polite individuals who like to wait. Take a quick look out of your peep hole and if they look like they haven’t had a holiday for a while be on your guard.

2. To Stop Debt Collectors Erm… Collecting. Debt collectors can’t enter your home unless you invite them in or you leave a door or window open. So unless they also have super powers (or a ladder) you can probably afford to leave top floor windows open to for a frosty reception.

3. For The Sake Of Your Interior Design. It is rumoured that Lawrence Llewelyn Bowen from changing rooms and other Home Improvement shows preys on innocent and naive victims who let him into their home before he rearranges their furniture. Be warned and check before you let people in to your home, especially if they have silly hair and a colourful outfit.

4. To Discourage Squatting. Squatting has suddenly become hot property after news that Harry Hallowes, 71, was given a plot of land that could be worth up to £4 million. Harry has camped on the 60ft x 120ft patch of garden for around 21 years and has been dubbed Britain’s wealthiest vagabond after being given squatters’ rights to the plot in Highgate, North London. Always make sure you check who is on the other side of the door before vacating your property for a week or two or even when popping to the shops for milk.

5. So Your Friend Can Finish His Knock-Knock Joke. Knock-knock jokes are well entrenched in the UK and most of mainland Europe, even South Africa, Philippines and India. So it would be a shame if you didn’t ask who is on the other side of the door when your friend tries to impress you with their latest witty joke. Nobody likes a spoil sport, go on, ask.

6. To Avoid Trick And Treaters. The only form of begging that is acceptable – outsmarting a bunch of children by asking who it is before answering the door will although you to avoid any monetary loss or from cleaning up egg from your windows or doors.

7. Because You Can. Doors were invented and built for the exact purpose of privacy. No one can see you behind it so go ahead and ask, maybe even put on a voice and pretend you’re not in.

October 23, 2010