Tag: Age

Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Grow The Hell Up

So you’re a teenage boy. I was one once, and got over it. You can too, if you TAKE HEED of these important points.

1. You are not special. You are not the first person ever to feel this way. You are not the first person ever to fall in love, or get stoned, or drunk, or listen to music that wasn’t in the charts. You are, in a word, unoriginal. Hurry to adulthood where such tedious conformity goes unremarked.

2. You look like an animated French Bread Pizza. This is not a good look. Get busy with the acne treatment, and you might find the teenage girls you pine after, bother to look at you. I mean, it’s still doubtful, given you only speak in mumbles or grunts and have the personal hygiene of algae, but hey, it’s a start, no?

3. You are composed entirely of knees, elbows and Adam’s Apples. While teen girls are so sylphlike they get their A-Level results photos on the front page of the Telegraph, teen boys lurch about like they were made that morning and the glue didn’t take. You’re fitter than you’re ever likely to be again – stop walking around like you’ve a freakishly heavy head.

4. You need ‘fake ID’. Now that’s just plain embarrassing. To have to proffer some weedy doctored piece of card every time you want to do something normal, like buy Tippex or 12 cans of extra-strength Fusilier Lager from your local shop is demeaning to all concerned. Get old, so you can demand such essentials in a booming, confident voice.

5. You’re all over the scale. Speaking of voices, what’s up with yours? One minute you’re frightening bats, the next minute you sound like Sauron spotting Frodo. Stop mucking about, boy!

6. Why so unwashed? Acne treatment is all well and good, but it needs to be accompanied by actual washing. A spray of Right Guard under the arms every morning is insufficient. You’ve achieved success when strangers can enter your room without being knocked unconscious.

7. You didn’t ask to be born. Sorry, what’s that? You didn’t ask? OF COURSE YOU DIDN’T! Nobody did! It’s not how the system works, for crying out loud! I’m sure this was covered in Biology. To become a man, you need to internalise this existential sense of injustice and only let it out, say, during major sporting tournaments.

September 5, 2012
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why A Mobility Scooter Will Score You Chicks

Mobility scooters used to be a vehicle of ridicule. That was until they became the latest must-have accessory for trendy London types looking to make a statement. Let’s face it, chicks dig a guy with wheels. This is an undisputed fact. The capital city trail blazers are just the first to realise the humble mobility scooter’s true potential.

Here are seven reasons why London trendsters are pulling out the mop and cleaning up with the ladies.

Frank Jefferson, 84, thought his secret pick-up technique was safe

1. It Makes You Different. Forget about fixies. Forget about those super-stylish, thick-rimmed glasses with no lenses. Forget everything you once knew. The mobility scooter is here and it’s what’s going to make you stand out in 2012. Analysts are recommending that all those considering a mobility scooter should purchase one as soon as possible before the river of wonder-struck babes dries up.

2. Age Becomes No Object. Ever had your eye on that gorgeous cougar in the office but been shunned because of your seemingly tender years? Worry no longer. Rock up to work on one of these bad boys and she’ll forget that you’re 20 years her junior. Shock and mesmerise as you take the lift up to the 6th floor, await the doors to open before ramming the throttle and blasting past her desk in an 8mph whirlwind of lust. She’s yours now compadre, and we’re proud of you.

3. Park Where The Balls You Want. Say no to restrictions. The mobility scooter allows you to park wherever you want. Hell, park up in front of a cop car if you want. What are they going to say? Nothing, because you’re the coolest bro in town.

4. Late Night Safety. It’s a dangerous world out there. Things can turn ugly real quick. So, as your silhouette glides effortlessly past a group of oncoming hoodies, there’s little doubt that you’re going to scoot past without hassle. What’s the alternative? You bike head long into the group of youths riding your fixie and wearing a pair of Joe 90s? You’ll get decked. Avoid the pain and embarrassment by gently revving the engine to a steady 5mph and cruise straight past the suckers. You can even smile and wave if you like. They won’t do anything. They’ll be too busy thinking about how many chicks your wheels have scored you.

5. Skip The Queue. You’re a busy man about town. The last thing you need is to be waiting in line with all the other nobodies. You’re a somebody now. Don’t forget that. Casually drift past the queue of civilians as you, mobility royalty, focus on securing first place in line. And you will. In situations where comments are passed, simply point to your rims, shake your head and flip the bird as you nonchalantly scoot headlong to the front. Remember to maintain eye contact. They won’t question you again.

6. Make A Name For Yourself. You’re bound to get into trouble with the police. Women flock to you, bouncers send you through as VIP, you’ve been awarded a knighthood – all of which is bound to draw unwanted attention from unscrupulous bacon.
Fear not. Let them come at you. Let them see the man that you’ve become. The only crime you’ve committed is becoming England’s most eligible bachelor.

They may try to pin a falsified charge on you. Driving without mobility insurance perhaps. After all, they want you off the streets. They want a level playing field for the rest of society and with you out there, that’s simply not possible. When your brush with the law inevitably transpires, preparation is key. Know the drill inside out. Reach into your mobility scooter’s storage compartment, don your sheriff’s hat and repeat:

“These streets would be anarchy if I wasn’t around. So who’s the real peace keeper here?”

Dumbstruck and in a state of resignation, the police you once feared will buckle under the weight of your supremacy. At this point, simply flip the bird and continue on your merry way. Flipping the bird is now your right.

7. Win. Win at everything. If the previous six reasons have taught you anything it’s this: with these new powers, you’re immune to failure. The win is yours if you want it. Scrap that, everything is yours if you want it. Make it happen. Be one of the first to embrace the mobility scooter’s awesome power and, in return, prepare yourself for the embrace of a thousand eager bed-time-babes.

June 12, 2012
7 Reasons I’m Not Sure I Suit A Wig

The other day I was invited by the nice people at Alpecin to test whether I was likely to go bald or not. I did so using their revolutionary baldness calculator. The results – given that I am already of the receding kind – came as no surprise. I’m going to be balding by my early to mid-forties. Disappointing, but at least it’s just on my head. I would hate not being able to trap bubbles with the hairs on my legs whenever I have a bath. The likelihood that I’ll be as bald as a coot does’t bother me in the slightest, but on Alpecin’s recommendation, I decided to look in to the possibility of wearing a wig. The results, thanks to a little dodgy photoshopping, are mixed. Let me know what you think though. It means a lot to me.

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August 22, 2011
7 Reasons That Time Is The Enemy

I’ve just realised something. Something important. Something life-altering. Something that, though I was vaguely aware that it was so, I’d never really considered before. I’ve just realised who the enemy is and it’s not even the French! It’s that odious bastard time. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Time Causes You To Sacrifice Things You Hold Dear. Time – the scoundrel – causes you to miss many things that you dearly love to do. Haven’t played your guitar for a while, visited that spa or baked that cake? No? It’s because there isn’t time. You probably thought there was time – that you could fit it in – but time deserted you when you needed it most. And then time forced you to make the tricky decision about what to sacrifice because of your lack of it. Time has run out on you and made you the bad guy. If you find yourself having to make the choice to spend more of your time doing the washing up or the hoovering rather than spending your time doing what you really want to be doing, it’s time’s fault.

2. Time Forces You To Compromise. Time continually places us in compromising positions. Because of time, everything becomes a compromise: Should you do something quickly or do something well? Should you diligently hone your craft and produce excellence or just botch things in a hurried manner for a quick result? Time forces you to make compromises in every area of your life when you’d probably rather not. Time forces you to compromise every damned…er…time.

3. Time Makes Your Life Needlessly Difficult. We strive to be on time; not early nor late, because what is prized in our society is punctuality; being on time. This means that how you are seen in the eyes of your peers – your social standing – is held in the fickle fingers of fate. In an ideal world, it’s not difficult to be punctual, but we don’t live in an ideal world. Every puncture, every train breakdown, every tube strike, in fact, every little incident and accident that we encounter on the way to wherever it is we’re going could potentially make us late, which will affect how we’re judged by our peers; “He’s always late”, people will whisper, “she’s a terrible timekeeper”. Time sets you difficult to attain targets then rewards your inevitable failure with opprobrium.

4. It’s Never The Right Time. No matter what age you are, it’s never the right time. When you’re young, it’s never playtime, it’s always bathtime or bedtime or time to go to school. When you have kids of your own, it’s never bathtime or bedtime, it’s always sodding playtime and it’s never time to go home. Then when you’re old it’s always bloody bedtime and you’re in a home. It’s never the right time.

5. Time Is Bad For Us. Time is attacking you and I at this very moment. It’s doing all sorts of vile things to us: It’s turning us grey; it’s making us wrinkly; it’s making some bits of us bigger and some bits of us smaller; it’s making bits of us fall out and adding extra bits where there weren’t bits before; bits that we didn’t need; bits that didn’t want; bits that we’re going to have to spend even more time removing. Time is making the inside of your ears hairy right now for no earthly reason other than to mock you.

6. Time Will Kill You. Humans are fragile creatures and there are many dangerous things that we might encounter during the course of our lives: War, famine, pestilence, irate husbands, startled horses, out of control dirigibles, rogue hippopotami, a landslide, a flood, a furious baboon; there are all manner of things that can kill us. But one thing is certain, if, against all the odds, we survive all of those things then time will kill us. Time kills more people than all of the armies of the world combined. Time kills more people than every monstrous dictator that’s ever committed an act of genocide. Pol Pot, Josef Stalin, Leopold of Belgium and Adolf Hitler were lightweights when compared with time. Time is a mass murderer. Time should be in a cell in The Hague. For the rest of time.

7. Time Is Addictive. Time, in the manner of an opiate, has us hooked. For after it’s turned us grey, caused us to sacrifice many of the things that we hold dear, turned our lives into a frustrating series of compromises, punished us for every little mishap that was outside our control, it still holds us in its thrall. Like irresolute crack whores we go running back to it, because we’re compelled to; we’re addicted to time. We can’t get enough of it. We can never have enough time. What every last one of us wants is more time. Time is our enemy, yet we can’t live without it.

As you can plainly see, time is an insidious and diabolically cruel outrage that humankind should wage war against. I’d lead the charge myself, but sadly, I don’t have the time.

July 14, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Teaching Is (Mostly) The Best Job In The World

A few weeks ago, you may remember Liz Gregory telling us why Summer was great. There was so much agreement with her in the 7 Reasons HQ that we just had to get her back on the sofa. Thankfully, Liz was only too keen to make a reappearance. And this time she’s bought along her box of chalks. Or are they marker pens? I can never tell when I’m sans contact lenses. If you didn’t check out Liz’s blog – Things To Do In Manchester – last time, then you better do it today. Unless you want detention. Right, enough of the stupid school quips, I’m off to the bike sheds.

1. Holidays (Part One). We may as well deal with any resentment up front, so we’ll start with holidays. I get 11 weeks per year. Teachers in schools get more. I understand that people in the real world get insultingly poor amounts of annual leave, and I feel bad about this. But no-one, anywhere (that includes you, Cameron) will take my glorious six-week summer off me.

2. Holidays (Part Two). Last year the afore-mentioned six week summer break began on July 7^th. The Ashes series started on July 8^th. This point needs no further expansion.

3. The Students. Yes, I know this one is hard to believe; even a cursory glance at The Daily Mail will indicate that the youth of today are a snarling, feral mass, pausing from their casual sex and drug-taking only to mug passing old ladies and commit knife crimes. You may be disappointed to learn that actually, today’s teenagers are pretty much the same as any other generation of teenagers: moody, unpredictable, funny, witty, charming…in short, they are good company. Although I do query some of their musical taste, and the overall aesthetics of wearing one’s jeans halfway down one’s backside.

4. Talking About What You Love, All Day Every Day. I teach English, which means that rather than answer telephones and push bits of paper around a desk all day, a typical Monday might include reading Wuthering Heights (and indeed performing the Kate Bush caterwauling classic as a Christmas treat), acting out bits of Streetcar Named Desire (Stellllaaaaaaa!), and teaching how to write scripts, articles or short stories….it’s amazing.

5. Seasonal Celebrations. Christmas is fun, sure. Christmas in a college with hundreds of sixteen-year-olds who are desperately excited but are trying equally desperately not to show it is even better. Students are also very keen on the confectionary that tends to accompany such seasonal celebrations, and bring it in by the bucket load; there is surely not a teacher in existence who has not felt their waistband constrict at Easter or Christmas due to a surfeit of Quality Street.

6. Stationery. This may actually be specific to English teachers, but every September the pain of a new academic year is soothed by an almighty trip to Paperchase to stock up on novelty pens and notebooks with monkeys on. This is an essential part of teaching, and its impact on the economic stability of Britain must not be overlooked.

7. Students Suddenly Realising You’re Not Ninety. I am not particularly advanced in years, but to my youthful charges I may as well be approaching my hundred and twelfth birthday. Until, of course, you are spotted outside of work, wearing jeans, talking to friends, and maybe (gasp) drinking wine. This prompts much admiration, as students recognise you for what you truly are – a plucky old person with a life outside college. This will raise your kudos above every member of the maths and science departments almost instantly.

July 10, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Watching Slovakia vs Italia Was An Education

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Disclaimer: may not be true.

June 26, 2010