Tag: Bowl

7 Reasons That You Shouldn’t Read (on the toilet)

This is a subject that totally divides the sexes. For some reason, reading in the toilet is something that women just don’t do, and they’re right. I agree. I read a lot. I’m also a man. To some people, this could mean that I might reasonably be expected to be found reading on the toilet, or would be, if people were in the habit of finding other people on the toilet which fortunately – for the most part – they’re not. But I won’t be found reading in the toilet ever, because I won’t be reading on the toilet in the first place – unless I’m dealing with some sort of emergency that requires me to use the toilet and read important instructions simultaneously. Like coming face to face with a self-assembly lion. Other than that, however, reading while using the toilet is something that shouldn’t ever be done. Here are seven reasons why.

This: Don’t do it.

1. It’s Disgusting. We’ve all seen those shock-docs in which restaurant toilets are subjected to ultra violet/infra-red/magic-poo-seeing light, and they don’t make comfortable viewing. They show specks of faecal matter (close your eyes if you’re at all squeamish) spattered (you can open them again now) on far walls, high ceilings, behind sinks and well, just about everywhere, and the nearer to the toilet the surface is, the more bottom-mud there will be on it. So if you’re reading a book while you’re using the toilet, or even leaving a book near the toilet, it’s going to get faeces on it. That is an undesirable trait in a book.

2. It’s Disgusting Multiplied. Having left your excrement all over your book, once you’ve finished it you’ll return it to your library or lend it to a friend or a colleague who’ll probably read it in a normal place like a chair or a bed or something. So not only are they taking your shit with them into their bed, they could well become ill while reading it. “I seem to have picked up a horrible stomach bug,” your colleague will tell you as they call in sick,” still, at least it gives me some time to read the book you lent me.” You’ll have poisoned them. And you’ll probably end up covering their workload at the office too, while they lounge around at home. The only winner in this scenario is Jeremy Kyle.

3. It’s Just Weird. Well it is. Why, out of all the things that men do so brilliantly well, is the only example of their multi-tasking prowess the ability to poo and read simultaneously? Is it that the very act of sitting down on the toilet feminises them and renders them suddenly capable of doing more than one thing at once? And why don’t women read on the toilet? They’re always telling us they can do fifteen things at the same time (often while they’re burning something in the kitchen or standing on the cat’s tail) but put them on the toilet – where no one can see them – and they suddenly become mono-taskers. Does this mean that the multi-tasking stuff is all for show? If you put a toilet and a book together in the same place and you get more questions than answers. Unless, of course, the book is a book of answers. They can only be trumped by a toilet of questions.

4. What If Someone Else Wants The Bathroom? There are other people in the world too. Other people that might conceivably want to use the toilet for the actual purpose of using the toilet. It’s no fun for someone to have to hang around outside the bathroom crossing their legs and screwing up their face while shrieking, “I need the toilet! I need the toilet!” with increasing desperation (well, it is, but not for them). It’s like Superman. Does he ever think about people that need to make a phone call when he’s using a phone box to change into his costume? No he bloody doesn’t. And their phone call might be an emergency. He’s an inconsiderate bastard. Essentially, if you read on the toilet you’re just like Superman.*

5. Health & Safety. It’s not just about books any more. There are hi-tech reading devices out there that the hapless and misguided might conceivably try to use while in the smallest room. Kindles, for example. But no one knows what possible effects would occur if they dropped an electronic book into the toilet (I googled it**). It would stop working, that’s obvious, but it also contains a battery so, I assume, it’s possible that it could short-circuit and send a small electrical charge through the water in the toilet bowl if dropped. Now if you were connected to the water in the bowl in some way (by a stream of liquid perhaps, you are in the toilet, after all), you’d get an electrical shock. Right in the very last place you’d want one. They’re not even allowed to torture people like that at Guantanamo Bay. They’re restricted to water-boarding them there, or forcing them to spell Guantanamo. The monsters.

6. What If You Run Out Of Paper? Outside of Kerry Katona, is there anything more tragic and desperate than someone that has just discovered there’s no toilet paper once they’ve completed a movement? Probably not. At that moment, people will use anything that’s near to hand (perhaps even their hand). If they’re reading a book, there’s no question that they’ll tear a page or two out and use that to wipe themselves with. But what if they’re reading the Bible? That would be blasphemous. What if they’re reading the Encyclopedia Britannica? They could end up ignorant about aardvarks or Zurich. What if they’re reading Dan Brown? That would be hopeless as the pages are covered in shit already. It’s just better not to have a book within reach in the first place.

7. Pity The Writers. At 7 Reasons, we’re generally just happy and flattered that people read us at all. But we’re also British and, as such, feel duty-bound to uphold notions of taste and decency and to urge our readers toward decorous behaviour. So we have to draw a line. And that line is at the bathroom door. We can’t write while imagining our readers on the toilet and you probably don’t want to be imagined using the toilet by us while we write***. For our sake, as well as yours, you should never – even though you probably weren’t considering it anyway – read 7 Reasons in the toilet. You should, of course, continue to outfit yourself in your Sunday best before settling down in your parlours and libraries to read us, just as you’re doing now. Nice hat, madam, by the way.

*This argument hasn’t gone well.

**I did find many instances of people dropping their iPhones down the toilet but that just made me laugh a lot. Or is it lAugh?

***That sentence took nine rewrites before it even made partial sense.

February 22, 2011
7 Reasons That Ricky Ponting is the Second Coming of Christ

As I was walking yesterday, on the road to Sainsbury’s, a strange and life-changing event occurred. I strolled past a man carrying a newspaper and, upon the back of that newspaper there was a picture. An image of Ricky Ponting looking glum. Christ, I thought, doesn’t that miserable bastard ever look happy? And then, suddenly and without warning, there was a blinding flash of light and a sonorous and divine voice did appear from the sky and say, “Ah look, mate, why do you persecute me?”

I fell to the floor: “Who are you,” I stammered meekly.

“I am Punter, whom you are persecuting,” he replied. “Now rise and get thee unto the supermarket, and you will be told what you must do.”

Blimey, that was weird, I thought, and went to the supermarket as I was bidden. And, to cut a very long story short, in the manner of Saul on the road to Damascus, I, Marc* on the road to Sainsbury’s, had had an epiphany. I realised that I had been wrong all along about Ricky Ponting and had done him many disservices over the years. And now I have truly seen the light and it is my divine mission to tell the world of his glory; here are the seven reasons why Punter is the true successor to our lord Jesus Christ.

Ricky, as he appeared to me on the road to Sainsbury's.

1. The Name. If things look right, and sound right, then they generally are. And when I tried to think of a way to link the names of Jesus and Ponting, I have to admit, I struggled. But then I realised that true struggle is the lot of a disciple, and that I’d just have to think harder. And, lo, I thought harder. But other than the names Ponting and Christ being interchangeable as profane expletives in my heathen life prior to my conversion, I could find very little to link them. Then it hit me: A portmanteau word. Ricky Ponting is no longer merely Punter the cricket captain. He now has a divine and biblical-sounding title. He will henceforth be known as…The Pontychrist.

Ah, look. It's the Pontychrist!

2. Miracles. Jesus was famed for his making of miracles. Specifically, for eking out very little, to make a lot. He turned water into wine, and he fed five-thousand people when equipped with a small quantity of bread and fish; a situation in which a lesser bearded-man – such as Captain Birdseye – merely invented the fish finger. And, in the manner of Jesus, Ponting (who, though not bearded of face, is bearded of arm), the new saviour, is attempting to win the Ashes with a mere nineteen runs from the first two tests. And when he pulls it off, it will be hailed as one of the greatest miracles ever seen. Greater, even, than when he takes a stroll across Sydney Harbour without using the bridge after the fifth test, and greater than when he turns Toohey’s into wine. Or Beer into a world-beating bowler.

3. Serendipity. This current Ashes series began in almost an exact word-for-word replay of one of Christ’s most famous quotes because Australia opened the bowling in the first test. And so it was that he, who is without spin, cast the first stone (or ball, as we call them these days). In fact, like his famous forebear, Ponting tries as much as possible to live a blameless life where lesser men (England) are happy to live a life of spin. In the grand tradition of divine saviours, The Pontychrist is more spinned against, than spinning.

4. The Devil. There would be no need for the coming of Ponting if it weren’t for the presence of darkness among man. Who then, is his nemesis, his bête noire, his archfiend, his foe, the Mephistopheles to his Good Shepherd? It can’t be Andrew Strauss; he’s too nice, he is a mere instrument of the devil. For Beelzebub himself is cunning, yet is vain, and so gives himself away through his choice of name. I ask you, what rhymes with horn? That’s right, many, many, many things but, specifically in this case, Vaughan. Behold The Antipontychrist! For though he has now been banished unto the commentary box for the duration of the series – which if the final test ends on day three will have lasted for forty days and forty nights – (which is both biblical and mathematical proof ), he is surely the puppet-master that the righteous Punter does battle against.

The name of the beast is The Antipontychrist and his number is 6-0-0 (and he doesn't look very well)

5. The Blood of the PontyChrist. In Christian religions, those arcane churches that we had before the birth of Pontianity, especially in Roman-Catholicism, (where the head of the church will, when Ponting is acknowledged as the second coming, be known as The Puntiff) the blood of Christ is important. Jesus, we are told, bled for our sins, and so, in the present day, has the Pontychrist. Here he is bleeding, so that our spirits may be lifted heavenward. And who amongst us can say that this image of his selflessness doesn’t fill their heart with joy?

We have redemption through his blood…in accordance with the riches of God's grace.

Yes, this one's just gratuitous.

6. Iconography. And, much like Christ, when so many of his teachings will be open to the whimsical and wilful interpretations of man, many years after he has passed, so the Pontychrist’s visage will be used, in the millennia to come by men warning others to follow his example and to live without sin. He’s omnipresent, they’ll say, he can see everything that you’re doing, they’ll say. And they’re right. In this portent of the future he seems to be staring into your very soul. And, now that you have seen this picture, you will know, that Ricky can see your every thought and deed. He will know if you think ill of the French. He will know when you’re masturbating. He will know when you’ve eaten Twiglets that you shouldn’t have touched. He knows everything: For he is omnipontent.

He can see into your soul, you bad, bad person.

7. Reflection. And later, on reflection at my conversion to Pontianity, I had a moment of doubt, the sort that afflicted people 2000 years ago in Jesus’s time. I wrote this piece yesterday, but when I woke this morning, I found myself questioning things. In short, I had a crisis of faith. I might have taken too much of my flu medication yesterday, I thought. What if I’d dreamt it? I’d look a fool. I’d be mocked and cast asunder by my peers. I decided that, on reflection, I may have got carried away and resolved to discard what I had written and start afresh with a new piece, after I’d had my breakfast. And then I saw a sign:

It's a sign! (a tasty one, too).

So, in summary, I’m buying myself a ute and I’m going to fill it with corrugated iron and tambourines and head off to the hills to build the first (of many) Puntecostal churches. Who’s with me?

*Henceforth to be known as Parc.

December 15, 2010
Special Guest Post: 7 Reasons I’m Backing Us To Win The Ashes

Hello! It’s Wednesday, and regular 7 Reasons (.org) readers might be surprised to find a guest post here. But today is special. Because today is the day that The Ashes begins, and I can’t begin to tell you how excited the 7 Reasons team are by this. Well, I could begin, but I’d never be able to stop myself and we’d all miss the cricket while I babbled on and on. So, joining us on the 7 Reasons sofa today is Sir Straussy who has taken time out from his busy cricketing and tweeting schedule to explain why he’s backing us to win The Ashes. And by us, I sincerely hope he isn’t referring to the 7 Reasons team; that would be a disaster.

Disclaimer: The views expressed by the England Captain are entirely his own and do not represent those of 7 Reasons (.org)*

1. It’s In The Toss. This is nothing new, but Ricky Ponting and I are tossers. We have to be. It’s in the contract. To be a captain you must be a tosser. And I am very proud to be both. So is Ricky. The difference between us is that, while I’m a good tosser, he’s a useless tosser. The stats don’t lie. Using the motto ‘tails never fails’ I have won 59% of tosses as England captain, Ricky has won a mere 49% in his role as an Australian tosser. And with the toss being so crucial these days, that 10% will give us the edge. But, I hear you ask, what happens if tails fails? Is that it? Shall we give up? Forget about this Test? No, certainly not. Again, let’s examine the stats, in the 41% of matches in which tails never fails has gone tits down, I have led England to victories 64% of the time. And as for Punter? Well, under his tossership, Australia have won just 30% of the Tests in which he has lost the toss. So, just remember, if my tossing goes wonky, don’t worry, I still produce results.

2. Younger, Fitter, Stronger. Assuming we go into the first Test with the team I want and Australia go into the first Test with the team I want, the average age of the England team is going to be twenty years lower than that of our counterparts. And even if Australia don’t go with Dame Edna Everage and Bill Lawry, our boys will still be younger on average. If the probable teams that have been bandied about in the papers for the last few days are to be believed, we’ll step onto the field with the average age of 28 years and six months. Australia will wheel themselves onto the field averaging 31 years. That age difference means we’re much fitter. Just take a look at our bodies. No one can tell me Dougy Bollinger is fitter than pin-up sensation Stuart Broad. Or Simon Katich is fitter than Brighton favourite Jimmy Anderson. Or podge-face Punter is fitter than the hairy-armed version of myself.

3. The Hair Apparent. According to the internet, the American writer, actor and comedian Larry David once said, ‘Anyone can be confident with a full head of hair, but a confident bald man – there’s your diamond in the rough’. He was talking about Matt Prior. The one player in world cricket whose surname inexplicably can’t be used with an O or Y to form a nickname.

4. Names. And talking of nicknames, should you wish to use ours on the Scrabble board we will score you an average of 9.5 points per player. That’s a staggering 0.9 points more than the Aussies. When you also throw into the equation that this includes the nickname-less Prior, it almost defies belief. How is this going to help us win the Ashes though? Well, it’s not directly, it was more an observation I made playing online scrabble with Lady Straussy. But it did get me thinking. Us English and South African-English just whack a Y on the end of a surname and be done with it. We then get on with the cricket. The Aussies though, well judging by some of the nicknames for their players, I imagine they spend a great deal of time in the middle trying to think of something wondrous. That must be why Haddin is called BJ, Bollinger is called Eagle, North is called Snorks and the 27 year-old new boy, Xavier Doherty, is called X. You need to concentrate on the game in this game, not faff around thinking of schoolboy nicknames. In some ways this is why I hope Usman Khawaja plays. Though I suspect he’s called Koala.

5. The KP Factor. With his Movember challenge nearly at an end – a contest Monty has dominated from an early stage – and his blindfold cricket ‘viral’ video for Brylcreem out of the way, KP now has the chance to concentrate on what he loves. And, talking about love, the other day the lads saw that the fat lad Warney had said KP needed loving again. So that’s exactly what we have given him. Lots of it. Aussie, watch out.

6. Midge. That’s the nickname of Mitchell Johnson, presumably because like a midge he has no sense of co-ordination. Anyway, he has vowed to make me crumble. Which is lovely. I’m looking forward to it at tea. But Midge has also vowed to make me suffer under a bouncer barrage. This goes back to the 2006/7 Ashes where I fully admit I got out hooking twice. Midge wants to exploit this perceived weakness. Given that I was caught behind four times in the same series, one could be forgiven to think I am far more susceptible to the one that pitches in the corridor of uncertainty and moves a fraction away off the seam. Mind you, Midge’s corridor of uncertainty is only slightly smaller than Steve Harmison’s, so perhaps that’s what he means anyway.

7. We Are England! To paraphrase Hugh Grant, ‘We may be an England cricket team, but we are a South African one too. A country of Allan Lamb, Basil D’Oliveira, Tony Greig, Robin Smith, Robin Smith’s brother. Nasser Hussain’s index finger. Nasser Hussain’s middle finger come to that. And a friend who bullies us is a Commonwealth country that wants to become a Republic. And since bullies only respond to strength, from now onward, I will be prepared to whip out my guns more often. And the whole of Australia should be prepared for that.’ Actually, it sounds much better like this.

*Unless he makes fun of Ricky Ponting or the French.

November 24, 2010