Tag: Bad

Guest Post: 7 Reasons For Men To Have A Haircut

Photo By David Smith

1. Because Your Mum Tells You To. “If you don’t get a haircut today it’ll be bread and jam for dinner tonight.” Honestly, the way your Mum constantly moans about you having a haircut it would just be easier to shut the old drone up and have it done. No one would know that you’re 37 and left home 20 years ago.

2. To Re-invent Yourself. It’s time for you to completely re-vamp your image and so, armed with a picture of your favourite star which you’ve cut out from the Radio Times, you troop off down to the barbers. Half an hour later you emerge transformed; like a butterfly emerging from the pupa. Checking your reflection in every shop window, car wing mirror and muddy puddle that you pass, you feel reassured that you now look every inch the young rock-star around the town. If this doesn’t impress your fellow co-workers at the all-night garage then nothing will.

3. So You Can Stop Embarrassing Your Friends. If it’s been a while since you’ve had a decent haircut you might notice tell-tale signs of embarrassment among your friend. Perhaps they’ve started walking six paces behind you. Perhaps they now insist on buying you hats or scissors for your birthday/Christmas present. Or perhaps you’ve noticed that you don’t have any friends any more. If any of these signs manifest themselves it could be time to join the 21st century and sort out your barnet.

4. Because People Are Beginning To Mistake You For A Girl. When short-sighted builders start mistaking you for a lady and whistling at you from the scaffolding you know your hair is getting too long. A few savage cuts of the barber’s scissors and the situation is soon remedied. No more sprinting past the builder’s scaffolding for you.

5. Because You’re Lonely. The comforting candy stripes of the barber’s shop pole acts like a beacon of hope for many lonely folk. And no one will ever take as keen an interest in your holiday plans as the man who cuts your hair every month/week/day.

6. Because You’ve Had A Bad Haircut From Someone Else. You’ve been going to the same barber all your life but then you suddenly started to wonder what it would be like to visit another barber. And so you scratched the itch and now, humiliatingly, you find yourself back in your regular barber’s chair asking him to fix a botched haircut. You’ve betrayed him and learned your lesson. And nothing will ever be the same again.

7. Because You’ve Had A Bad Haircut From Yourself. There’s a recession on so you thought you’d save some money by investing in some electric clippers and cutting your own hair. Let’s face it anyone can cut hair can’t they? But you’ll soon discover that ‘cutting your own hair’ is just another one of those exceptions to that ridiculous phrase ‘if you want a thing done well, do it yourself’.

Author Bio: James Christie writes for UK business directory Thomson Local Business Directory. Use Thomson to find hairdressers near you.

May 11, 2012
7 Reasons That This is the Worst Survey of All Time

Readers of 7 Reasons, I’m breathless with excitement. I’ve discovered something amazing. While reading this fine article to research something else, I found, in four short paragraphs in the middle, an account of an astonishingly inept survey.

The survey was conducted in the 1930s by the Mass Observation organisation and set out to quantify how many people were having sex on Blackpool beach during the month of August. They conducted their research – in a rather hapless manner – by hanging about on the beach at night looking for people having sex. During the research they managed to spectacularly and hilariously cock up their own figures. Here are seven reasons that it’s the worst survey of all time.

1. The Premise. You can call me suspicious (I won’t answer to it though) but isn’t the premise a bit fishy? I smell a rat; which is a rodent that smells of fish. It’s like someone at the Mass Observation unit suddenly said – possibly during a meeting at a pub – “I’ve got a great idea chaps, let’s all go to Blackpool and observe people having sex on the beach.” And everyone drunkenly agreed to it as a terrific idea and an utterly laudable use of their time and resources. What no one seems to have said is “But wait. Isn’t that dogging?” Because that’s what watching people having sex in a public place is. This makes their observation lack credibility. This makes it look less like a serious study and more like an excursion for perverts.

2. The Results. The results are also a little suspicious. During their study into how many people were having sex on the beach during August in Blackpool, they recorded a mere four couples having sex on the beach. Now, perhaps times have changed and things are a little more liberal in Blackpool these days but there are bus stops in Blackpool where more people are having sex than that in the middle of the afternoon. And on the beach at any given time, there are usually at least nine people attempting to have sex with a donkey. The results seem not to accurately reflect the environment that was being surveyed.

3. The Personnel. The credibility of this survey was further undermined because – and this makes it officially one of my favourite surveys ever – one of the people that the Mass Observation researchers observed having sex on the beach was another Mass Observation researcher. This brilliant incident of the hunter becoming the hunted; the ogler becoming the ogled and the peeper becoming the peepee has catapulted what was already the second least credible survey of all time (after my important research into how much tiramisu you can fit into a 6’2” man with an M in his name in a Yorkshire kitchen in December*) into first place in a race of its own.

4. The Results Are Skewed. The discovery of the researcher having sex means that, according to the Mass Observation survey, 12.5% of all people having sex on Blackpool beach during the month of August are Mass Observation researchers. Now I don’t wish to appear cynical, but if I was say…let me see…in charge of a rather unglamorous unit that generated statistics on everyday life and I was having a recruitment drive to swell the ranks of nerds that I needed to count things, what better way to glamourise it? Move over rock stars (whatever they are); move over Errol Flynn and Clark Gable; Mass Observation researchers are unabashed rampant sex beasts and brazen cocksmen and not the stammering bespectacled tweed-wearers that you previously supposed them to be. If you want to have relations with ladies in hats, join the Mass Observation unit and become a statistician. I’d imagine that brilliantined brown shoe wearers would be queuing round the block to join. On bicycles, probably.

5. The Results Are Confusing. But Wait! What if he was having sex alone? After all, if he’s the voyeuristic chap that suggested going to Blackpool in the first place, that’s entirely probable. That would make him 14% of all people having sex on Blackpool beach during the month of August! That would really be something to boast about. But that raises further questions. If you’re having sex alone while watching someone else are you having sex alone? Do you have to count the other person or people? What if he has some sort of weird fetish and is having sex alone while watching a tram or looking at a picture of Stanley Baldwin? Would that mean that former Conservative Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin was 12.5% of all people having sex on Blackpool beach in August? Should you count all of the passengers on the tram? The computations are mind-boggling.

6. It Might Be Illegal. By and large, Mass Observation researchers were amateur volunteers (and deviants apparently), but the Mass Observation organisation accepted donations and funds from book advances, so it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that the researchers were being paid to do this and it’s highly likely that they were receiving money for expenses. This raises another question. What do you call someone that gets paid when having sex? That’s right, a prostitute. So, not only has this researcher royally messed up the statistics (and given me a headache) he’s committed an act of prostitution while he was working at the beach.

7. It Gets Worse. The Mass Observation organisation have – in the act of giving money to a prostitute – become a kerb crawler. That’s the sort of label that makes the organisation that have produced the least credible survey of all time look – incredibly – less credible than they already seemed (which was not at all). This survey looks like an excuse for voyeurism, depicts Blackpool in unbelievable terms, skews its own findings by engaging in a sexual act on a beach, raises statistical questions that caused me to consider sex with a tram and the organisation that made it might have sullied their reputation by giving money to a hooker. If there has been a less credible survey ever made I’d love to see it.

*The survey’s finding: Bloody loads.

September 2, 2011
7 Reasons That Men Shouldn’t Wrap Birthday Presents

Did I give this the title 7 Reasons That Men Shouldn’t Wrap Birthday Presents? I didn’t really mean that. I meant 7 Reasons That Me Shouldn’t Wrap Birthday Presents. Or I, to be correct about it. Because I’m sure that there are some men out there that are good at wrapping presents. Neat, methodical men that actually welcome the task; men that positively enjoy it, in fact. The thing is though, that I’m definitely not one of them. And I’m sure that somewhere there must be other people (most likely men) who are as ill-suited to wrapping gifts as I am. Possibly. Here are seven reasons I shouldn’t be allowed to wrap stuff.

Finished! At last!

1. Loathing. I fundamentally dislike wrapping gifts. I’m not good at it and I don’t enjoy it; much like dancing a ballet or sketching a bowl of fruit, I’m temperamentally unsuited to it and it’s much better when done by others. This affects my whole approach to the burden of having to wrap presents. I will procrastinate; I will obfuscate; I will participate in the most mundane or bizarre displacement activities to avoid it. I would literally rather do anything (photograph my belly-button fluff; listen to Jedward; fellate a baboon) than wrap a present. This leads to problems.

2. Delay. It means that I will leave performing the odious task until the last possible moment. And then, when that arrives, I’ll leave it for an hour or two more. Then I’ll have a beer or two, which I may follow with some gin or – as preceded one spectacularly disastrous present-wrapping session – absinthe. I will not wrap a single birthday present until I am so tired that I absolutely have to go to bed on the eve of the birthday. Only then is it time to start wrapping.

3. Practice Makes Perfect. It’s then of course, that I am reminded of how epically, stupendously, mind-bogglingly bad I am at wrapping presents. It’s something I get to do so rarely (thankfully) that I believe I may be getting worse at it with every passing year. I only do it rarely, not because I am ungenerous, but because I am forbidden to do so. My wife – having seen many examples of my wrapping – would rather allow Prince Phillip and Pete Doherty to mind our baby for a weekend than let me wrap a gift that anyone will see (feel, or even be within the same postcode as). This division of labour suits me fine as it leaves me in charge of hammering stuff and assembling things, but it leaves me ill-equipped for the four occasions per year on which I am called to wrap presents.

4. Wrapping Is Dull. There are few tasks duller than wrapping presents. Probably. I’ve been trying to think about something duller than wrapping a present for several minutes now and have so far failed to come up with anything that tops the unremitting tediousness that is covering things for other people in paper. So I would be better off if I had a distraction from the wrapping. But I can’t watch television or listen to music while I’m wrapping because of the hour and because rustling wrapping paper is the loudest sound known to humankind outside of Muse and Vanessa Feltz being sucked into a jet engine. When you are wrapping presents, you are wrapping presents. There. Are. No. Distractions.

5. Sellotape. But there is Sellotape. There’s a fundamental flaw with Sellotape; one that renders it almost all but unusable to me. It has two sides; one of which is smooth and presents me with no problem, and then there’s the other side, which is sticky. The sticky side adheres to everything: It sticks to me, it sticks to itself, it sticks to the table, it sticks to the floor, it sticks to anything that has fallen from the table to floor and retains it in the form of a visible mass of crumbs, dust, fluff and (always) a single pubic hair stuck between the Sellotape and the wrapping paper. The only thing that Sellotape does not do – in my hands – is affix neatly and evenly to the edges of wrapping paper. One birthday, I got this reaction: “Thank you for the present, Darling. Why is there a tortilla chip stuck to it?”

6. Paper. Because I am emphatically not in charge of wrapping anything ever, I am often presented with a problem when it comes to paper. I buy wrapping paper all the time. Lots of paper. Because of this, I always expect to find an abundance of wrapping paper when I – with heavy heart – am obliged to wrap a present. But because my wife spends her entire year wrapping presents in my absence, by the time I need wrapping paper, there’s none left. Things I have been forced to resort to using in the past include: tissue paper, newspaper, plain brown paper, white A4 paper and lined A4 paper. I have also given the gift of a small and delicate bracelet presented in a large metallic red bottle bag. Last night I had to resort to using Christmas wrapping paper to wrap my wife’s birthday presents. Fortunately I was able to talk my way out of the situation this morning: “Those? Those are birthday trees, Darling…Merry Birthday!”

7. Apology. There are also many apologies involved in wrapping presents: Apologies for waking the household up by bellowing obscenities at an odd-shaped overnight bag (or Sellotape, we can’t be certain) at 0330 in the morning; apologies for affixing a dead woodlouse to the wrapping of a tub of handcream that bore the words “Be My Valentine”; apologies for the (unaccountably) ginger pubic hair that was stuck to the tube of Pringles; apologies for the “Birthday” trees line that seemed certain to work and apologies for arriving in bed with a ball of Sellotape stuck to my arm which eventually transferred to my wife’s back when she rolled over. It turns out that wrapping birthday presents is a sorry affair, as well as a messy one.

*I would, of course, like to wish my wife a very happy birthday (if not a well wrapped one). Happy Birthday, Darling.

August 1, 2011
7 Reasons They Were Very Wrong

It’s the 3^rd of December and, to save you wondering why that’s significant and making you worry that you’ve forgotten your birthday or Easter or something, we’ll tell you. On this day, in 1929, U.S. President, Herbert Hoover, delivered the first State of the Union Address since the Wall Street Crash to Congress. But this wasn’t your run of the mill State of the Union Address where nothing much of interest gets said. Well, it was, but in the middle of all of the traditional consciousness-bothering guff, Herbert Hoover said something so obviously, epically and unarguably wrong that he has inspired us to bring you seven of our favourite examples of wrongness.

President Hoover. Talking.

1. Herbert Hoover. “While the crash only took place six months ago, I am convinced that we have now passed the worst and with continuity of effort we shall rapidly recover.” And following those fine, rousing, confident words, America and the rest of the world plunged into The Great Depression, which saw American production fall by 46%, foreign trade fall by 70%, unemployment rocket by 607% and shanty-towns filled with the homeless spring up around every major U.S. city. They called them Hoovervilles.

2. Dr Dionysius Lardner. “Rail travel at high speed is not possible, because passengers, unable to breathe, would die of asphyxia.” The professor of Natural Philosophy and Astronomy at University College London was wrong on two levels here. One; trains don’t actually reach high-speed in this country because there is always a poxy cow on the line, and two; if passengers unable to breathe did get on a train, they would already be dead.

3. Glenn McGrath. The great Australian bowler predicted Ashes whitewashes in 2005, 2009 & 2010/11. With England on the receiving end. He was wrong. The fact that he got it right in 2006/7 is more a testament to infinite monkey theorem than to any logical analysis*. And to the fact that England were rubbish.**

4. Sir William Preece. The chief engineer of the British Post Office said in 1876, “The Americans have need of the telephone, but we do not. We have plenty of messenger boys.” So in Victorian Britain, not all boys were up chimneys or in the workhouse; they were carrying messages which, according to Sir William Preece, is the ideal way to have a chat with your mother who lives a hundred and fifty miles away. “Hello Mother, how are you?”, you would write, before summoning one of the multitudinous boys to bear your message to her. And when he returned, breathlessly, a mere fortnight later with the reply, “Fine, thank you,” you would send him straight back again with a note inscribed, “And how’s Father?”. In the Preecian vision of the future of communication, Americans could have a ten-minute-long conversation with their mothers while the British would have a forty-two-week-long one which would cost the lives of approximately nine urchins. Perhaps to make his idea more marketable to the communications industry he considered the slogan: The future’s bright, the future’s boys. Or perhaps not.

5. Newsweek, In an issue looking into the future of travel, Newsweek magazine carried this prediction of popular holiday destinations for the late 1960s. “And for the tourist who really wants to get away from it all, safaris in Vietnam.” Erm…yeah. Now Newsweek weren’t totally wrong here. Vietnam did receive a massive influx of American tourists with rifles in the late 1960s, it’s just that they weren’t there to safari. Or to sit by the pool.

6. Lord Kelvin. In 1883, the President of the Royal Society, said, “X-Rays will prove to be a hoax”. To this day, I bet he wishes he had said the ‘X-Files’. It’s a shame though really, because if X-Rays were a hoax then that cracked fibula I suffered could also have been a hoax. As would be the inevitable snapped fibula. And all the surgery. In fact, my whole life would have been a hoax. But it’s not. Because X-Rays are real. And so am I.***

7. Major General John Sedgewick. While directing artillery placements, Sedgewick and his corps came under fire from Confederate sharpshooters about a thousand yards away. As his officers and men ducked and scurried away, General Sedgewick loftily dismissed the notion of taking cover saying, “What? Men dodging this way for single bullets? What will you do when they open fire along the whole line? I am ashamed of you. They couldn’t hit an elephant at this dist…”. They were his last words.

*Glen McGrath is an infinite monkey. You heard it here first.

**Except Ian Bell.

***Jonathan Lee is real. You heard it here first.

December 3, 2010
We’ve Moved!

It’s Sunday, so no reasons today. Here’s something different. Last week we brought you a tale of horror and woe, and this week we bring you…a tale of horror and woe, because we have an announcement:

We’ve moved! You may not have noticed yet, but we have. We’ve moved from Gloucestershire to Kent. Strange, the website doesn’t look any different, you’re probably thinking; I can’t see any oast-houses or Dover Castle or France, but I promise you that we’ve moved. We’ve changed our web-hosts from Fasthosts to EZPZ hosting.

And we hope the new web-hosts that we’ve moved to will provide you, the reader and us, the men who have spent many, many, many of the hours that they should have spent writing in the last year trying to get answers from Fasthosts about why our website wasn’t being hosted effectively, with a more reliable experience. As our experience with Fasthosts has been appalling.

In fact, we started monitoring our site’s uptime over the past few weeks, and it turns out that with Fasthosts, our site was working less than 99% of the time. Imagine if you had a car that wasn’t there 1% of the time when you came to use it. Or your house wasn’t there for over three and a half days out of the year, but you didn’t know when that would be, or that the sun vanished intermittently.

And it’s not just that the site would disappear while we were trying to read it; it would also disappear while we were trying to write it, which resulted in an awful lot of lost work. In fact, I’ve found myself spending a lot of time that I should have spent creating stuff and writing for the website monitoring its performance and corresponding with the web hosts.

As a result of the many support tickets that we have raised and the many questions we have asked them in the past year, Fasthosts have properly investigated our downtime twice. And they’ve come to the conclusion that there isn’t a problem at their end and that it must be our fault, which is strange as, since we’ve moved the website, it has been working for 100% of the time. Which rather undermines their claims.

It’s not just technical incompetence. A couple of days ago – we disabled the auto-renew facility some time ago – they tried to take money from my credit card to pay for web hosting for the coming year (something they didn’t have permission to do). Fortunately, they have the details of an old card and it didn’t go through.

Anyway, we’ve moved and we wanted our experiences with Fasthosts to have a home on the internet so that anyone thinking of using them and perhaps googling “Should I switch to Fasthosts”, “Are Fasthosts any good” or, “naked web hosting” (people search for almost everything pre-fixed by the word naked) would find this piece and would be forewarned.

Hopefully now, the 7 Reasons team will have less correspondence like this:

Jon,

I fully intended to forward any response on why we’re down to you. But, other than the initial automated (and pointless) response to our first email from Shithosts, there has been none. Nor have they replied to us via Twitter. This is on their webshite:

Websites hosted on 88.208.252.193 will currently be unavailable. Our engineers are investigating.

Update: 8:35: Our engineers have found the cause of the issue. However, it is likely that a resolution will require a server rebuild. We will restore all data from a recent backup and will update this page when further information and a completion time become available. Please accept our apologies for any inconvenience this may have caused.

This issue is presently under investigation:

Our ip address is 88.208.252.3:21so whether this applies to us is a mystery to me, I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything/they bother to reply/I turn up at their offices in Gloucester brandishing a weapon,

Marc.

P.S. Makes me really glad I spent 8 hours working on today’s post now.

P.P.S. Do you have backups of all of the posts that you uploaded yesterday?

P.P.P.S. We were on course to have one of our best Mondays ever yesterday. Before our site disappeared.

And more correspondence like this:

Jon,

The website is working fine. It’s nice here in Kent. Look, I can see deer strolling through the meadow next to the tiramisu farm. Would you like some beer from the perpetual fountain?

Marc.

In conclusion: If you are looking for web hosting. Never, ever use Fasthosts. They’re no good at web hosting, their customer service is woeful, they can’t be trusted with your credit card details and they’re expensive (our new hosting is almost two and a half times cheaper).

7 Reasons (.org) will return tomorrow; I can state with utter confidence.

November 7, 2010
7 Reasons the Anglo-Franco Defence Agreement is a Good Idea

Yesterday, at 7 Reasons (.org) we ran a post entitled 7 Reasons The Anglo-Franco Defence Agreement Is A Bad Idea. I discovered that we had done so while I was eating my breakfast, and it’s fair to say that I was quite stunned. In fact I, the Jacques Tati obsessed, Voltaire-reading, coffee-guzzling half of the 7 Reasons team (the one with the French name), almost choked on my croissant. “A bad idea?!” I exclaimed in a voice so high that it was only audible to very small dogs, “but it’s a brilliant idea!” And it is. Here are seven reasons why:

1. History. The most notable occasion on which we’ve had a defence agreement and a joint expeditionary force with France was the Second World War. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, we won that. Obviously it didn’t work out too well for France, what with Germany annihilating the French army and occupying most of their country, and Britain blowing up the French navy before going home to dine on powdered egg with the Americans. But we did win, so defence agreements with France are a proven success. And now that we have the Channel Tunnel, their government will be able to flee to London so much more quickly than last time. If that’s possible.

2. Cuisine. Working together will rid both nations of antiquated ideas about the other nation’s diet. They will come to realise that there’s more to British cuisine than roast beef – because we’ve had branches of McDonalds since at least the 1970s – and we will come to realise that there’s more to French cuisine than frogs legs. They’ll introduce us to soufflé: An insignificant, over-inflated tart that shrinks at the merest hint of a knife, and Quiche Lorraine: A dish that they readily share with Germans – usually as a starter – which is often followed by a generous helping of their speciality, crêpe à la guerre.

3. Wisdom. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer: A line from The Godfather – often wrongly attributed to Sun Tzu – that’s a very wise strategy indeed. And who is the enemy in this case? Well, it’s France: The nation we’ve spent more time at war with than any other. They are l’ennemi traditionnel, and by being on board the same ships with them we’ll be able to keep a very close eye on them. Also, should a war break out between the nations, civilian casualties will be minimised as the theatre of war will be far smaller than usual; sometimes it will even be confined to the same engine room or bridge. And remember, should the enemy sink one of our aircraft carriers, they will bear half the cost.

4. Finance. Even if you’re not au fait with the minutiae of military funding it’s bleeding obvious that we’re going to save lots of money by sharing spending with France. Look at paint. All armed forces need lots of paint and, by getting together we’ll have greater purchasing power when it comes to procuring it. We’ll make substantial savings on grey paint for navy use, and camouflage paint for army use. And we’ll make even bigger savings on red, white and blue paint as we’ll need bloody loads of that now that we’ll need to paint a French flag on one side of things and a British flag on the other. The savings will be enormous. Énorme.

5. Efficacy. The measure by which all branches of the armed services are judged is their strike-capability. And by entering into an agreement with the French, we’ll increase the strike-capability of our military substantially. In fact, with the French on board, our strike capability will be the highest of any force in the world; our strike-capability will be infinity, which is greater even than the combined forces of China, North Korea, Iran, Christmas Island, Easter Island, Chuck Norris and Malta.

6. Co-operation. When Britain and France work together, the two nations have been able to affect profound and lasting positive sociological change. The channel tunnel, for example, which was first proposed in 1802 and was completed a mere 192 years later, allowed refugees of many nationalities to complete the final leg of their epic journeys of migration; fleeing hardship and squalor from across the four corners of Northern France, to civilisation in Southern England; where they were able to escape the tyranny of boules, cycling and listening to Johnny Hallyday and were introduced to the more civilised British pastimes of cricket, morris dancing, and the Daily-Mail-witch-hunt.

7. Culture. Our nations have much to learn from each other and the accord will doubtless be a civilising influence. As we get to know each other as individuals there will be a significant breakdown of prejudice and an increase in cultural exchange. We will teach the French to drink copious quantities of beer and fight with bald men in shirts at the weekend, and they will teach the British to drink copious quantities of wine and run from bald men in shirts at le weekend. We will teach the French to make popular music that will be cherished the world over, and they will teach the British how to sneer at the X-Factor. We will teach them that France is the ideal holiday destination, and they will teach us that France is the ideal holiday destination. It’s a match made in heaven. The Anglo-French defence agreement is going to be great.

November 3, 2010
7 Reasons The Anglo-Franco Defence Agreement Is A Bad Idea

Cameron: "Don't worry, your troops will be fine. From a distance it looks like a gun."

Once again the power of 7 Reasons is dictating how the world operates. Today, you will hear that Britain and France have agreed to join forces in the pursuit of defending our shores. A reliable source informs us that our piece entitled 7 Reasons To Invade France caused shock-waves in both British and French camps. David Cameron doesn’t want a diplomatic incident on his hands and the French are just scared. As a result they have agreed to stand together and deny the 7 Reasons dream. But what to them sounds like a good idea given the current economic climate, to us sounds like a catastrophe waiting to happen. Here’s why:

1. Conflicts. For this agreement to work, both Britain and France need to be reading off the same hymn sheet. Or invasion plan. But what happens if one country doesn’t like the others proposed deployment? Well, basically, they can veto it. Rather disastrously this is going to make it extremely difficult for Britain to invade France. And who wants to live without that prospect on the horizon? Well, the French probably, but who else? Life just got a little more boring.

2. Kitchen Wars. This agreement will mean both British and French troops will be stationed on aircraft carriers together. An Englishman and a Frenchman on an aircraft carrier at the same time? All we need is an Irishman and we have the makings of a joke. But, sadly, this isn’t a joke. This is a very serious matter. Who will win? A traditional English Breakfast with cup of tea or a Continental Breakfast with coffee. Even the thought makes me quite queer. And what happens if Pierre – I imagine all French chefs to be called Pierre. Or Jean-Paul. But this one’s a Pierre – what happens if Pierre is left in the kitchen alone for five minutes. He’s going to spike everything with garlic.*

3. Left or Driot? Anyone who has been to France will know that they drive on the wrong side of the road. How they sleep at night is a mystery. But that is something we will cover in a future 7 Reasons piece. Because today we need to point out the dangers this will cause. On aircraft carriers. With the British wishing to land their aircraft on the correct side of the carrier and the French wishing to land theirs on the wrong, there is going to be more than an argument. There is going to be a pile-up.*

4. Cricket. With the invasion of France looking less likely, there is going to be much more free time. Time when the troops of the two nations can bond. And what better way to bond than over a fierce game of cricket? Well, actually, every other way is better. Because the English are going to be playing proper cricket and the French are going to be playing nancy boys cricket. Or French cricket as they call it. It’s going to be like bodyline. Just with more blood and clueless Frenchmen. And this, despite what I may feel in my heart, is not a good thing.

5. Infestation. Have you ever considered the possibility that we don’t have enough frogs and snails in Britain? No? Well give it about six months and you’ll be wondering how the hell we’ve got so many frogs and snails in this country? Unless, you’ve read this. In which case you’ll know. As soon as that French aircraft carrier docks in Southampton, we’re going to get infested with the pests. And the frogs. And the snails.

6. Strikes. Who knows who we are going to have to defend ourselves against in the future, but for arguments sake, let’s suggest it’s Christmas Island. What happens if Davide and Nicolas send one of our aircraft carriers over there only for the French to go on strike? And let’s face it, this is a very real danger. The British boys will be stretched beyond belief. And, as good as they are, I am not sure they will be able to survive under the constant barrage of Christmas Tree missiles. The sheer number of pine needles will sink us.*

7. Time-Zones. This is something I doubt either Davo or Nico have considered. Return to that picture in your mind of the Anglo-Franco aircraft carrier coming under the fire of Christmas Trees if you will. The good news is that the French have ended their strike and are now sweeping pine needles off the deck. Then the order comes through that the joint force is to invade the Island at 0700. So they wait. And then at 0700 the French troops invade. And the British wonder what the hell they are doing? Because it’s only 0600.*

*These reasons are the property of Claire Quinn and have kindly been loaned out to 7 Reasons for the day. We are truly grateful. As otherwise 50% of the 7 Reasons team would have been here all day.

November 2, 2010
7 ‘Other’ Reasons It Would Have Been A Really Bad Day

Hello. I am still in Italy. No doubt frustrating my girlfriend with my inability to show enthusiasm for Spanish steps, fountains, statues, fine food and foreign culture in general. In fact, at this moment, I am no doubt scouting for an English bar to watch the Commonwealth Games.* So while I continue to destroy both Claire-Jon and Anglo-Italian relations, I leave you with a piece I wrote last week. About Polar Bears.

Last week, you may have heard about the explorer who survived being eaten by a polar bear. If you didn’t, you can read about it here. It’s not so much the fact that he survived that surprised me, more the reaction of his friend. Recounting the moment he shot the polar bear dead to save his exploration partner, Ludvig Fjeld said, “I was about 20 or 25 metres from the bear and it had Sebastian in its mouth, I was very worried. I did not want to hit Sebastian as well. That would have been a really bad day for him.”. Yes, imagine that! Being eaten by a polar bear and then being shot. That’s a bad day isn’t it? But then, it could have been worse.

1. Another Polar Bear. So, having been eaten once, saved, then shot, now another polar bear rocks up to see what all the commotion is about. Seeing his polar bear brother lying dead on the ground would have been enough to make him a bit cross. And as Ludvig used all the ammo, nothing is going to stop the polar bear finishing off what his brother started. That’s a bad day. Full of despair, and hope and despair again. A bit like a political party conference.

2. Bills. An expensive bill is enough to deflate anyone. They generally arrive when you least want them, and I would suggest the same day as you’ve been eaten by a polar bear and then shot by your mate, would be very fitting.

3. Tent Theft. Now, don’t get me wrong here, I am not for one minute suggesting the indigenous population has a tent theft habit, I am merely suggesting how the day could have got worse. And, in my desire to find another five reasons, I am going to point towards someone coming along – while the two explorers are out getting eaten and shot at – and nicking the tent. And everything it in.

4. Snap! You’ve been eaten and shot, but you’ve survived. Time to get back to the tent (which for the purpose of this reason hasn’t been nicked). When you get there though, you trip over a guy rope. And break an ankle. Brilliant.

5. Crack! No, that’s not Harrison Ford turning up with his whip – that would quite frankly be ridiculous – instead it’s the sound of the ice breaking beneath the explorers. Eaten by a polar bear, shot by your mate and now adrift in the Arctic Sea on your very own iceberg.

6. No Tea. Okay, so to run out of tea bags would be horrendous planning, but it’s the kind of thing that would just make you realise it’s not your day. And don’t tell me these Scandanavian boys don’t like tea, because I simply won’t believe you.

7. Hot Air. Foot isn’t the only way of exploring, as any Hot Air Balloon explorer will tell you. “Foot isn’t the only way of exploring, I’m a Hot Air Balloon explorer.” See, I told you. Unfortunately, Hot Air Balloons have a habit of crashing. Even when they land properly they seem to crash. And where better to crash than on top of a man who has just been eaten alive and then shot by his pal.

*If anyone knows where such a bar is, please let me know. Seriously, do.

October 13, 2010