7 Reasons

Tag: carrier

  • 7 Reasons the Anglo-Franco Defence Agreement is a Good Idea

    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:

    The iconic WWII Keep Calm and Carry On propaganda poster amended to read Keep Calm et Poursuivre in honour of the Anglo-Franco defence agreement

    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.

  • 7 Reasons That Carrier Bags are Baffling

    7 Reasons That Carrier Bags are Baffling

    The carrier bag might seem like a rudimentary bit of kit.  Basic, functional, easy to understand.  But it isn’t.  Carrier bags are, in fact, among the most baffling things known to humankind.  And by humankind, I mean me.  Here are seven reasons why:

    a bag of old carrier bags. Screwed up.

    1.  Because I Have Hands.  People in shops are endlessly, needlessly trying to force carrier bags on me.  But I don’t want one most of the time.  Often, I’m just buying one or two items.  And I don’t need a carrier bag in that circumstance.  How many hands does it take to carry a single item?  One.  How many hands does it take to carry a bag containing a single item?  One.  So I don’t need a bloody bag, do I?  It’s not difficult.  And I already have a bag; it’s that thing I’m wearing over my shoulder that looks like a bag.  But despite having both hands and bags, I am continually pestered to take the things.  And I don’t know why.

    2.  Because They’re Everywhere. I always try not to take carrier bags, but despite this, my kitchen is full of the things.  And every time I go in there, there are more of them.  I don’t know how – or when – the rise of the bags began, but they are inexorably usurping our cooking space.  We started off, like everyone does, with a bag of bags, and now we have at least a bag of bag of bag of bag of bags.  Well, more than one, actually.

    3.  Because I Don’t Know What To Do With The Things.  You might think this is the point where I’m going to make a few humorous and bizarre speculations on what one might do with a glut of carrier bags, but no, I’m not going to do that.  This is because I’m totally bewildered and overwhelmed by my surfeit of them.  I have no more idea of what to do with all the bags in the kitchen than I would have of what to do with a large, glittery, singing horse called Jemima in my dining room.  Less, in fact.  Or fewer?

    4.  Because Of Chavs. It seems that the only people that have any idea of what to do with used carrier bags are chavs.  They put them over the seats of their rusty mountain bikes and tie them down to the seat-post.  All of them do this.  But I have no idea why.  It’s not to keep their bottoms dry because they never remove the bag; even after rain.  It’s a further level of bafflement.

    5. Because They’re Not In The Same Condition I Left Them In. Occasionally, a rare and wondrous event occurs:  I realise that I’m going to have to carry some presents to a friend’s house, or I’m going for a walk in the countryside and there might be blackberries to pick, and I find that I will actually need a carrier bag.  And then I excitedly perform a brief, joyous dance – a bit like a jig – while singing repeatedly “I’m going to get rid of a bag, I’m going to get rid of a bag…” to the tune of A Life on the Ocean Wave.  But when I come to use them, I discover that at least 50% of the bags are torn.  But they weren’t torn when I put them into the bag of bag of bag of bag of bag of bags.  So what the hell has happened to them in the meantime?  Do they fight?

    6.  Because People Lie About Them. It’s not just that they’re all over my kitchen, mocking and taunting me, and confounding my every attempt to get rid of them that I find them baffling.  It’s that people actively lie to us about the things.  Don’t use carrier bags, environmentalists tell us; it’s wasteful; a lot of resources are used up in their manufacture; they don’t grow on trees.  But this just isn’t true.  Carrier bags do grow on trees.  I’ve seen them.  Just go outside and look at any urban tree and you’ll see the carrier bags growing on it.  And we’re obviously using far fewer carrier bags than the trees are producing, because we’re not harvesting them with any regularity.  That’s why there’s still a Woolworths bag growing in a tree near my house.  Even though they went bust bloody ages ago.

    7.  Because Of The Holes. We all know why there’s a hole at the top of the bag.  It’s to punish people that are stupid enough to try to put baguettes into them.  But no one knows why there are holes at the bottom.  Are they drainage holes?  Is it a government conspiracy to prevent us from moving water about easily?  Is it to prevent suffocation of animals, small children and Members of Parliament?  Is it to stop me from inflating the things and then bursting them (with hilarious consequences)?  Is it just to confuse us?  Well, if it is, it’s working.