Tag: Bottle

7 Reasons That This Is The Worst Present Ever

Okay, 7 Reasons readers. It’s September, so there’s only one thing we can possibly write about today. That’s right, Christmas. Because – strange as it may seem – there are people out there that are actually planning their Christmas and buying presents right now. I, of course, will be leaving my shopping until the last possible moment, as usual, but I feel I should issue a cautionary tale to those of you that may be contemplating buying presents. For, if it prevents anyone else having an experience quite like this one, I feel I will have done the world a great service. This may make me appear to be an ungrateful man and a bad brother but that’s okay, because I’m an ungrateful man and a bad brother. So, present-buyers: Don’t buy this! Here are seven reasons that it’s the worst present ever. I have obscured the name of the sender to protect her identity.

This is not the actual gift. This is a far more tastefully coloured version of it.

1. It Created Expectation. It was Christmas morning. My wife and I had finished the croissants and were sipping our second glasses of bucks fizz while, in the background, Frank Sinatra gently exhorted us to have ourselves a merry little Christmas. It was time to open the presents. My wife pulled the many gifts out from under the tree and divided them into four piles: presents for her; presents for me; presents for us and presents for the cat (the largest pile). We took it in turns to unwrap them (and to help the cat) and fairly soon the floor was a gaudy collage of discarded paper. Then it was my turn again. It was a small, rectangular present. It was tastefully wrapped and surprisingly weighty. A glance at the tag revealed that it was a gift from my s*ster. “Who’s it from?” my wife asked. “It’s from my only s*ster.” I replied. Expectantly, I tore the paper away, to reveal a narrow blue gift box about six inches long. Wow! This looks great, I thought as I unwrapped the box. Then I opened it.

2. My Eyes! My life prior to opening the box had been a poor preparation for that moment. My life had been one of carefully and tastefully matched colours and textures. Of aesthetical sobriety and decorousness. I was fundamentally ill-equipped for the spectre that cruelly and aggressively assaulted my retinas. What greeted me was the sight of a glass object consisting of a conical frosted glass stem tapering up toward a rounded top that was made up of most of the colours in the world – minus all of the nice ones and the ones that go together – encased in glass that was partially frosted and liberally spattered with gold leaf. It was the single most hideous thing that I have ever seen. And I’ve seen the Lidl in Scunthorpe.

3. It Caused Bafflement. What is it? What is this glassy-horror? Why has my s*ster sent me this? Why is it covered in gold leaf? Is the glass frosted to obscure the thing, like a toilet window? Why does it have a stem? Why does it have a bulb? Why does it have a rim? What the buggery-bollocks is this thing?! “What is it, darling?” My wife enquired.

4. It Caused Speculation. Putting all aesthetic squeamishness aside, I coolly regarded the gaudy object in as objective a manner as I could. It had a tapering stem. It had a bulb at the end. It was simultaneously shiny and frosted. It was a myriad of lurid colours and was festooned with gold leaf. “It’s…it’s…(got it!)…Liberace’s butt-plug!”

5. It Caused…The Pause. “Don’t be silly,” my wife said, snatching Liberace’s butt-plug from me to regard it more closely. “It’s…(there then followed a long pause. A pregnant pause so long it seemed that an elephant could have been brought from conception to gestation during it. In fact, it was merely a pause of several minutes)…a wine-stopper!” “A what?” I enquired. “It’s a wine-stopper. It stops wine.”

6. It Caused Incredulity. It does what?! Of all the things one could conceivably want to stop why in the hell would anyone pick wine?! I like wine. Why not send a gift that stops something more objectionable, like fascism or tennis? Wine is fun! Sending something that stops it is like giving the gift of abstinence. For Christmas!

7. It Caused Me To Lie On The Telephone. “Thanks for the…um…thing.”

“We got it in South Africa.”

“It’s…come a long way.”

“It took us ages to choose that one.”

“Really?”

“Yes. There were so many different coloured ones. Have you used it yet?”

“No, but I will.”

And that was a lie. Until now! Because now – five years later – I’ve finally found a use for it, even if it is as a cautionary tale. A gentle reminder for 7 Reasons readers to choose their Christmas presents carefully. And, even if you don’t, you could at least get it in a colour that matches the recipient’s loft because that’s where it is. Or rather, where it was, because earlier today when I went up there to relive the horror and to photograph it in all its sickening hideousness for you, the reader, I discovered that it had disappeared. My investigations have revealed that it may have been placed in a charity bag by my w*fe during some sort of cull-of-the-horrid. With some irony, it may well have been a bag from the RNIB. I can only offer our apologies to them.

*For fans of gifts like this, this is the place to find them.

September 28, 2011
7 Reasons You Should Never Buy a Half Bottle of Champagne (on Valentine’s Day)

It’s Valentine’s Day here at 7 Reasons and, as you might reasonably expect, everywhere else too (we don’t have a special one just for ourselves, you know). Anyway, we’ve decided to do something different today. Usually we’d bring you seven reasons for something: Reasons full of speculation and conjecture; hypothesis; whimsy and made-up statistics. Today, however, is different: We’re not going to do any of those things. Because in another lifetime, one of the 7 Reasons team spent several years running wine shops (yes, you didn’t think either of us had any sort of practical use, but you were wrong). As a result of this, today’s 7 Reasons post comes from experience. Make the most of it, it won’t happen often. This piece is mostly aimed at men who, while in the minority of wine-buyers for the majority of the year are – by far – the majority of champagne-buyers in the run-up to (and at the last minute) on Valentine’s Day. Anyway, from experience, here are seven reasons that you should never buy a half bottle of champagne for Valentine’s Day.

1. You’re Missing The Point. Allow me to explain the point of buying champagne. It is a luxury item; an extravagance; a frippery; an opulent treat to be blissfully enjoyed in intemperate immoderation. You cannot have half an extravagance. You can’t have partial gratification. It is not possible to temper excess. If you buy half a bottle of champagne to share with your beloved on the universal day of romance and indulgence you will – should it turn out that you’ve parked it in front of someone’s driveway – be able to move your car; you’ll be able to put up shelving safely; you’ll be able to do the crossword with a clear head. Trust me, those things are not the point of Valentine’s Day.

2. Consider The Message You’re Sending. What kind of message are you giving to your loved one with a half bottle? That your gesture is half-hearted and half-arsed, that’s what message you’re sending. This is a token gesture. The spark’s gone out of our relationship. I don’t really want to spend a romantic evening with you. Here’s a bit of lip-service (which will, ironically, ensure that no lip-service will occur). I have no feeling for you whatsoever. I have no romance in my soul. I’m an insensitive bell-end and you’re wasting your time with me. You’re not saying just one of those things with half a bottle of champagne, you’re saying all of them. It’s sending a worse Valentine’s message than turning up with flowers that you’ve pilfered from a graveyard. In fact, it’s worse than turning up with a wreath that you’ve pilfered from a graveyard.

3. The Customer Is Always Right. This is not true. As we know, there are many people who can’t walk in a straight line, drive a car without endangering others or operate a telephone without calling the wrong person. This wrongness also manifests itself when purchasing things. Stupid people, when placed in a retail environment, do not suddenly experience some sort of revelatory experience in which the fog of stupidity is lifted from their feeble brains, leaving them with a hitherto unfamiliar sensation of lucidity and exactitude: They remain stupid. So, should you ask, in a wine shop, in the run up to Valentine’s Day, for half a bottle of champagne, you will be treated with utter contempt. Should you choose – once the aghast member of staff has explained reasons one and two to you, possibly in a voice an octave or two higher than their normal register – to persist with your foolish purchase of a half bottle of champagne, you will be forever thought of as the idiot. They will remember you; they will point at you whenever you come into the store; they will whisper about you to their colleagues before they both erupt into laughter. This reaction is not a temporary thing, it will last for eternity, and possibly beyond. Helpfully, they will also put your tiny bottle of champagne into the largest gift bag they can find and that won’t help you at all because…

4. Symbolism. There’s a lot of symbolism around champagne. Let us consider the use of champagne in film and television for a moment. The most obvious example is the popping of a cork and the subsequent cascade of abruptly released champagne as a metaphor for the male orgasm. In this metaphor, the bottle of champagne represents the male appendage. So – even though it might not be a conscious reaction – if you turn up with half a bottle of champagne on Valentine’s Day, your lady will be doubly disappointed. Not only will you have arrived with barely enough champagne to get the cat in the mood, you’ll have arrived with a small todger too.

5. Variety. Although all champagne is grown in a small geographical location, and is composed of any, or all, of a mere three grape varieties, there is a panoply of scents and flavours across vintages and producers. The variety is absolutely fascinating. So buying champagne is your chance to turn up with something interesting, to wow your beloved. And it doesn’t have to be expensive. This is your moment to turn up with a bottle of Taittinger Brut Reserve NV and tell your other half that, like her, it has a beautiful nose, is perfectly balanced, refreshingly complex and has a glorious aftertaste. Or you can turn up with any other nice bottle of fizz that takes your fancy; there are loads of them. If you buy a half bottle though, your choice will usually be limited to the house champagne or the ubiquitous Moet & Chandon. So, you’re either saying “Darling, I brought you half a bottle of Moet because I don’t care, I have a tiny cock, and you’re just the same as all the other girls” or “Darling, I brought you half a bottle of the house champagne because I don’t care, I have a tiny cock and you have lower standards than all the other girls”. That won’t go well.

6. Cost. Buying half a bottle of champagne is cheaper than buying a full bottle of champagne and, in the current economic climate, it might seem like a reasonable economy. It is not. Not only is the cost of a half bottle far greater than half the cost of a bottle, there are other costs that accompany the purchase of one. These costs are the usual ones associated with apology for acts of crass stupidity and thoughtlessness; flowers, chocolates and the like. And while we’re on the subject of peace offerings for women, lingerie is never a suitable apology gift. Never.

7. Volume. There is one thing to be said about the half bottle of champagne. It’s an ideal size for one person. This is useful as, if you take your significant other half a bottle of champagne, there is a high chance you’ll end up drinking it alone. Perhaps for many years to come.

The 7 Reasons team would like to wish all their readers lots of love and happiness this Valentine’s Day.

February 14, 2011
7 Reasons I Failed My Driving Test

In the year 2000, I took my driving test. Twice. I failed. Twice. When people asked what I did wrong, I said I drove out in front of another car at a roundabout and drove too close to a parked car. In truth though, it was worse. Much worse.

1. As far as I am concerned, if a sign tells me to undertake all red cars I will do so. Even if it means chasing the git all the way to Bradford.

2. I am not sure what my test instructor was more perturbed by, the fact that I refused to go along this road or because I told her, ‘Sorry love, you must be over 60. Can’t take you down here.’

3. It’s not my fault it looks like a bottle.

4. I am not sure whether it was me trying to forcefully remove her bra or just the sight of me wearing it that got to my instructor, but either way she put an X on her bit of paper.

5. How was I supposed to know this didn’t mean, ‘wield your iron age mallet at all other drivers’?

6. In my defence, it had been a long time since I had played with my wooden dagger.

7. I rather suspect if I hadn’t taken Viagra that morning I would have got away with this one. As it was, I couldn’t see where I was going.

August 16, 2010