Tag: cats

Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Brits Love Pets

If you’re one of the millions of households with a pet, you’ll be able to vouch for us when we say that we’re a nation of animal lovers.

Pets are a big part of family life, but they come at a cost as this infographic ‘The Real Cost Of Owning A Pet’ from Baines & Ernst shows.

Getting a pet is of course a big financial commitment, but if it is one you can afford, it’s more than rewarding.

Here are 7 reasons why Brits love animals…

1. They’re always pleased to see you. When you’ve had a long day, having a friendly face waiting for you at home can be a real tonic. Unlike a human partner, there’s no nagging about being late or sulking because you shouted at them this morning. Your four legged friend is just delighted to see you. And even if you go out of the room for a moment, you are guaranteed a similarly rapturous response on your return – your very own furry fan club.

2. They love you no matter what. Your pet sees you at your worst – first thing in the morning, last thing at night and all those times when you’ve worked yourself up over something ridiculous. And besides, who else would be willing to ignore your habit of sitting on the sofa in your underwear and cutting your toenails into an old pizza box?

3. They won’t spill your secrets. You know what it’s like – you’re given a piece of juicy gossip but are sworn to secrecy…. and immediately your lips start burning with the desire to tell someone. Chatting to your pet about what you have been told doesn’t count – and unlike spilling the beans to another person, there’s no risk they will slip up and drop you in it. Unless you have a talking dog, then let’s face it… you’ll make millions.

4. They stop you being lazy. You really should go to the gym but it’s cold outside and you would rather curl up on the sofa and relax. However, you have to take your furry friend for his evening walkies and there’s no escaping it, so off you go for your daily dose of exercise, whether you like it or not!

5. They’re a constant source of amusement. Sometimes it’s the simplest things that can make you smile, even if they have made you laugh countless times before. It’s difficult not to be amused at the sight of a cat going wild on cat nip or a dog chasing the reflection of a laser torch. And if your own pet is being boring, well, there’s always You Tube. Wonder whatever happened to Fenton…

6. You’re never short of company. Pets always make great company so it’s hard to feel like you’re alone with a pet in your life. They’re there from the moment you get up to when you go to bed. They’ll never complain that Match of the Day is on or if you’ve already seen that episode of Friends a million times before. Dogs will go out walking with you for hours, while cats will curl up next to you when you need a cuddle. They really are quite awesome.

7. There’s always someone else to blame for the smell. Pretty self explanatory… always useful! BAD DOG!

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January 22, 2013
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Boys Are Better Than Girls

Just over a year ago you may remember Natalie Clifford gave us 7 Reasons Why Women Are Better Than Men. And, for a year, we have let the fairer sex have their moment. Mainly because no one dared argue differently. That is until one man decided to step forward. That man is brave. That man is the writer of The Memory Blog. That man is Richard O’Hagan. Today Richard sits on the edge of the 7 Reasons sofa – in an undisclosed location – ready to readdress the balance. Here, in his words, are seven reasons boys are better than girls.

The idea for this post came to me one Sunday evening. I was stood there doing the ironing and utterly failing to come up with any ideas for my own website when the sight of my wife preparing my dinner* made me think, “Being a boy is so much better than being a girl.”**

And then I thought, “I wonder if those nice chaps at 7 Reasons would be interested in a guest post which might actually increase their site traffic, even if all of the new hits are from angry feminazis?”

So here you have it – 7 Reasons Why Boys Are Better Than Girls, and one which hopefully avoids all the tired old suggestions such as ‘being able to pee standing up’*** and ‘not leaking like a BP oil well once a month’.

1. Self-Awareness. Boys are simply more self aware than girls are. Boys know that once they have got out of bed in the morning, that is pretty much as good as they are going to look for the rest of the day. A quick wash and brush up, maybe a shave (according to personal and religious preferences) and that is it. We don’t spend time applying many different layers of make-up, or agonising over what to wear that day, because we know we’d only be trying to fool ourselves. And this then leads to…

2. Lower Expectations. Everyone knows I am going to show up to any given event looking like I have been dragged through a hedge backwards. I’ve been perfecting the look for years and I know that there is as much point trying to get me to look smart as there is in giving Pompeii a quick dusting. If you don’t spend your life trying to look as if you have just strolled in off the pages of a fashion magazine then no-one expects you to look like that.

3. Less Gullible. Let us not beat around the bush here. Boys are less gullible than girls. No-one has ever convinced us that nylon – a material which unravels as soon as you look at it – is a suitable covering for our legs. No-one has ever convinced us that we need to chuck out a quarter of our clothing every three months because “that’s so last spring/summer/autum/winter”. And no-one has ever convinced us to wear beige simply by renaming it ‘taupe’****.

4. Cats. The phrase is ‘Crazy Cat Lady’. No-one ever said ‘Crazy Cat Man’ (well, not without being so stoned that they think it is still the 1960s) and no man has ever been found dead and alone in a feline infested flat, with the moggies feasting upon his decaying flesh. Being a girl means developing a strange attracting to furry four-legged gits.

5. Shoes. Boys wear sensible shoes. Shoes you can run in (see reason 7). Shoes you can walk in. Shoes which are comfortable. Girls, on the other hand, think that shoes mean some towering edifice which makes perambulation almost impossible and painful toes a part of daily life. Moreover, being a girl means that you feel the need to spend roughly the Gross National Product of Namibia on acquiring more uncomfortable shoes than you could ever need even if you lived for six lifetimes. Boys have one pair of shoes, wear them until they wear out, then buy another pair; Girls have eleventy million pairs of shoes, wear some of them, then chuck them out and start all over again twelve months later (see reason three)*****.

6. Driving. Cars were simply not designed for girls. This is no slight upon the perceived lack of driving ability among females, it is a fact. The basic design of the car began with the male physique in mind and hasn’t altered. Girls have proportionately longer legs and shorter bodies than boys. If cars were designed for them they would have deeper footwells, lower dashboards and no doubt many other female-friendly alterations (a lipstick holder or something). No car has yet been made like this, not even the Mazda MX-5, a car no male with a molecule of testosterone in his body would be seen dead driving.

7. Running. Running makes boys look manly, as if they are hunting down prey or chasing a foe. When girls run they always look like they are attempting to do a very fast Charleston whilst simultaneously going in the opposite direction. Something which I shall now demonstrate by running away from this angry horde of feminazis******.

*She was not cooking because I am some kind of raving sexist monster, she was cooking because the local crematorium cannot keep pace with the after-effects if I cook.

**This was after the umpteenth interruption to reach down something from the middle shelf of our kitchen cupboards, a task I perform willingly but whilst wondering what the use of a kitchen cupboard is if 50% of the users cannot reach beyond the salt and pepper storage level*******

***I once heard the occasionally-funny Sandi Toksvig claim that women didn’t regard this as an essential skill. Try telling that to the female attendees at any large outdoor event.

****Moreover, the invention of ‘taupe’ had a detrimental effect upon the men of the world, as by the million they were denied Bouncy Bedroom Fun by their female partners after exclaiming “Taupe? Looks like beige to me, love”

*****For the avoidance of doubt, my wife is not a typical girl. At least in this respect.

******There is no reason for this set of asterisks. In addition to alienating 51% of the world’s population, I wanted to break the ‘most asterisks in a post’ record

*******There are other things as well as salt and pepper on that level, obviously. Or will be, right up to the point where my wife reads this and throws them at me

March 26, 2011
Russian Roulette Sunday: 7 Reasons To Borrow One Of The 7 Reasons Team

Good morning Sunday. Usually on Sunday we rid ourselves of the strict seven reasons framework and let it all hang out. Today is slightly different. Without request, bargaining or bribery, former (and future) guest writer Richard O’Hagan decided to be nice to us. Now, 50% of the 7 Reasons team don’t go in for all this self-loving egotistical narcissism that is so prevalent on the internet. The other 50% can’t get enough. And because he is in charge this Sunday he has decided to share the nice things Richard said about us with you. For reasons best known to himself – though he did cite our week of cat flap/flat cap/flat cat borrowing – Richard has thoughtfully provided the world with seven reasons as to why one of you should borrow one of us. And here they are:

1. Technical Skills (IT). It must be obvious to anyone that the 7 Reasons team are technical geniuses when it comes to computer related stuff. Every now and then a post appears which is so laden with computer-speak that it is the written equivalent of being audible only to dogs, ergo they must know a lot more about this stuff than you or I. So the next time that your office computers crash, don’t wait for some numpty in Prague or Mumbai to diagnose your problem, simply borrow a 7 Reasons member to sort it out for you

2. Technical Skills (DIY). Look at that sofa! Isn’t it a work of genius? How much talent must be bottled up in these two guys, that they can produce something so seamless that you can hardly see the join (apart from the change in colour and style, obviously). Here are men so talented with a saw, screwdriver and hammer that the likes of Tommy Walsh weep in their presence (presumably). There is simply no reason to employ someone else to put up your shelves or build your decking when you can go to the very best and borrow Marc or Jon

3. Geographical Convenience. Better still, with one of them (Marc) being Oop North, and the other (Jon, by a process of elimination) Dahn Sarf, you can guarantee that a 7 Reasons expert is only minutes away (as even hours can be measured in minutes, too), thereby making them far more likely to show up and fix your problem than any other so-called expert

4. Lemons. One of my wife’s frequent complaints is that whenever I buy fish, I forget to buy a lemon for her to squeeze over it. 7 Reasons practically runs on the things, so why not borrow a 7 Reasons-er to do your shopping for you and avoid citrus-related domestic grief forever (unless your wife wanted limes. Or oranges)

5. Cats. Have you ever tried getting a cat sitter? It is almost impossible to find one for less than the cost of the holiday you were going on in the first place. And catterys cost even more. So why not borrow Marc, a self confessed tolerator of felines, to look after your cats whilst you are gone. There’s at least a 50% chance that he won’t try and feed them on lemons.

6. Empathy. At least one of the 7 Reasons boys is colour blind. At least one is married. If, like me, you are both colour blind and married you can really do with having someone to empathise with as your wife yet again complains that your shirt and trousers clash with one another. Borrow the 7 Reasons team and you have an instant set of shoulders (four, in fact) to cry on.

7. 7 Bespoke Reasons. You just know that the 7 Reasons team spend all day, every day, wandering around in a highly-developed comedic haze, every fibre twitching to find the source of the next 7 Reasons post. If you borrow one of them, you will find that it is your life that 7 Reasons becomes based upon. Which, frankly, is even better than writing 7 of them for yourself.

So there you have it. Well, almost. Due to the success of Thursday’s poll – which was won handsomely by “Fnuduhuh!” – we thought we’d give your fingers another chance to click on something. In line with today’s revelations, we are asking …

[poll id=”3″]

March 20, 2011
7 Reasons To Borrow A Cat Flap

Last night, upon viewing a Felix advert, my girlfriend – not for the first time – announced she wanted a cat. Upon enquiring as to why she didn’t get one, I was told that we don’t have a cat flap. (To be honest, I had noticed this before). Sensing my girlfriend’s disappointed I then suggested that perhaps we could borrow our next door neighbour’s cat flap. I didn’t share the seven reasons as to why this is a great idea then, because I wanted to share them with everyone who has a cat flap problem now. (And, I didn’t have seven reasons on me at the time). Here they are:

One flap, half a cat

1. Collection Service. It won’t make any difference to the cat whose flap they enter. The reason a cat enters the home is because they have had enough of being outside. At least that’s my logical conclusion. As a result, all you need is an arrangement with your neighbours. Whenever the cat enters their flap they get on the phone, you whip round, pick it up and bring it home. Then, the next day, you just take the cat round to your neighbours and let it make its own mind up on when it wants to leave the house via the flap.

2. Annoying. As with humans, I imagine a proportion of cats are very indecisive. They’re not sure whether they want to be in or out which means a lot of cat flap exit and entry. Thankfully, it’s your neighbours who will have to put up with the constant opening and shutting of the flap. You, quite frankly, couldn’t care less.

3. Maintenance. Due to the fact that you have an indecisive cat, the wear and tear on your neighbours cat flap is going to be acelerated. Not your problem though is it? They are the ones who will have to invest in WD40.

4. Hole In The Wall. The idea of knocking a hole in the wall to let a cat in or out scares me. What happens if a fox tries to get in? Or a rat? Or an alligator? That’s not the kind of thing I want to meet in the kitchen at 6.30am. Especially as I don’t have my eyes in at that time and as such can’t see a bloody thing. I’ll probably think my girlfriend has brought some crocodile skin boots. Which means we’ll end up having an argument. Firstly, about her choice of footwear attire and, secondly, about why I’ve bought an alligator to bed. I’ll win though. I’ll just tell her we should have borrowed next door’s cat flap. As I had recommended.

5. Community. The chances are that if your neighbours have a cat flap they also have a cat. As with your typical cat-based film, the two cats will argue and fight at first before slowly beginning to accept each other and like each other. They will then set out to patrol the neighbourhood together, fighting the invasion of mice and pigeons. And then presenting them on your neighbour’s carpet.

6. Worry. Now, despite never having had a cat myself, I know that owners start worrying when their feline friends don’t come home for a couple of months. If you are relying on your neighbours to tell you when your cat has returned from a day of adventure, you don’t have to worry so much. So they haven’t been in touch for a few days. That’s easily explained. They might not be in, they might be asleep or they might have moved. The cat it probably fine in Salisbury. Relax!

7. Feeding. With any luck your cat will eat the food that was supposed to be for your neighbours cat. Saving both your money and your nostrils.*

*Having recently fed a cat, I came to the conclusion that to own a cat you must have a permanently blocked nose.

March 14, 2011
7 Reasons To Join A Cult

The story of how 7 Reasons formed is not your traditional one. We won’t go into great detail other than to say we met because we were both in a cult. But don’t worry, this cult didn’t involve righteous killing or licking frozen chickens. Anything but. This cult was a friendly one. A cult where American architects sent dragons to newsreaders and people across the land turned the ferret gold. I am sure you are now seeing the light, but if you are still slightly unsure here are seven more reasons to join that cult.

Richard Bacon Was A Cultish Leader

1. New People. A cult is different from exclusive clubs such as The Masons because it is open to all. As a result you will meet a rich and diverse group of individuals from all walks of life. Plumbers, writers, lawyers, singers, doctors, engineers, buskers, perverts. You’ll meet the lot. And because you leave all your prejudices at the door when you enter the cult, you’ll form a bond with each and everyone of them. The most hardened Tory will find joy in conversing with the most radical Socialist. Millwall supporters will appear fluffy and cute. Formerly disgraced Blue Peter presenters will be forgiven. And that sort of thing only ever happens in a cult.

2. Opportunity. Unlike your place of work, there is no hierarchy in a cult. Or, if there is, you can very easily destroy it. You can be anyone you want to be in a cult. You can be a wallflower if you wish, or you can be a leader of men. And women. No one minds. If you are the type of man who has access to both foil and a cat (Marc) you may wish to see if one will walk over the other. But what if you don’t? What if you don’t have foil? Or a cat? What if you are a person in one of those moods and fancies taking the mick out of your leader (Jon)? Well you can do that too. And whats-more, whichever route you choose, whatever you decide to do, you will be celebrated. You will be held in high esteem. You may well start a website.

3. Reward. When you have gone out of your way to entertain those amongst your cult, it is nice to be rewarded. And nothing rewards quite like a cult. Apart from the adulation and admiration from those around you, you may also receive a badge. Or a small motorbike. But it’s usually a badge. And when I say a badge, I don’t just mean a badge, well, obviously I do, because it is a badge, but it’s also more than that. It’s more than a badge. It’s what the badge stands for. It doesn’t just say, ‘Hey, I’m in a cult’, it says, ‘Hey, I’m part of a cult’. And that’s, you know, pretty damn special.

4. Help. Whether you are at school trying to write your Personal Statement or in lying in bed ill, the cult is there to help you. Admittedly, you might not get it right all the time. All your advice may just confuse the lad and mean he misses out on that place at Cambridge University, but no one can accuse you of not trying. For all your failures, you will have hundreds of successes. Like I said earlier, the cult we were in helped turn the ferret gold. But while that was great, it is more the fact that people were there to help turn the ferret gold than the actual turning. And it was the ferret himself who first shared these sentiments. He was right.

5. Meaning. It is very easy to wander along in life, working nine to five and waiting for the weekend. There is nothing wrong with that, but joining a cult will give your life purpose. It’ll mean something to you and, more importantly, you’ll mean something to the cult. It’ll give you direction and hope and love. And let’s face it, there is very little direction, hope and love out there at the moment. Your work isn’t going to give it to you, so why not give the cult a chance?

6. Outside. When you join a cult, you join in trepidation. This is only natural. A cult, after all, has a reputation for being dark and evil and thus it is perfectly understandable if you are initially nervous. No one enters thinking they may leave with a new life. But many do. Many leave with new friends. Some leave with new girlfriends or boyfriends or both. Others leave with ideas. The rest just go to sleep. No one thought this would happen when they joined. No one expected their life to change. But it can. It does. Sure, not all friendships and relationships last, that’s life, but for a moment in time they were very real. And it was the cult that gave you that happiness. Without it, it would never have happened. Obviously, some relationships do last. Like 7 Reasons. A monster that will never be slayed.

7. Death. Eventually, sometimes for reasons outside of your control, your cult will die. You will attend the funeral (or listen to it on the radio) and be filled with deep sadness. But when you come to reflect, you realise the cult hasn’t really died. You just can’t listen to it on BBC Radio 5 Live anymore. It still lives though. In your heart. And on YouTube. You still have the memories of your leader being portrayed as Hitler. You can still listen to the music of the cult’s house band and indeed of the one you may well call T He Digger. You still have the vision of chair legs being broken by that woman who stood on a plinth for a couple of weeks. You still remember that moment when you were denied from asking Chris Evans whether his gingerness had been a help or hindrance. And these thoughts will stay with you forever. No one can take them away from you. And you’ll always be thankful that you could never get to sleep before 00:30.

So, if there is one thing you should spread this Christmas season, it is the joy of the cult.

Thankyou. Jonathan Lee, in the lounge, with his badge.

December 22, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons I am Better Than You

Hi there, it’s Saturday, so here’s a guest post. Curling up on the 7 Reasons sofa today is Horatio Pyewackett Caractacus Fearns who – when he wakes up – wants to explain why he’s better than you. And us, probably.

1. Fur. Ever tried to wear fur? No, of course you haven’t you timorous numpty, you timid wretch, you cowardy, cowardy custard. Because you’re fearful. You’re afraid of PETA. You think that if you don a fur coat you’ll be attacked by a mob of militant lefties who object to your sartorial decisions. But I’m not scared, PETA aren’t going to object to me wearing fur, because I’m better than you; wearing fur is my birthright, and I wear it as if to the manor born, without fear of reproachment. Because I’m awesome! Because I’m a cat!

2. Benevolence. I’m kind to my minions. Very kind. And I’m uber-agile, in fact, I can bend over backwards and lick my own bottom. But you can’t. You have to scrape bits from trees and roll them up into a ball in order to clean your own fetid arses. This is because you’re pathetic and incapable of washing yourself properly. But I’m not, I’m wondrous and supple and can cleanse my own ring with my tongue. Which, let’s face it, saves you a job, so I’m benevolent too.

3. Competition. So who’s the most awesome human that there is? That’s right, Superman. He can leap twenty times his own height; he can hear things that are going on miles away and he can’t be snuck up on while he’s sleeping. Well, me too. Superman, however, can be defeated by kryptonite. But I can’t, I can do all of those things with no fear of kryptonite or of looking like a dweeb at the fortress of solitude. Because I’m magnificent, and because I’m still rocking my fur coat while Superman’s attired in a thin, shiny number with his pants outside outside his lycra leggings. He looks like the world’s worst-dressed cyclist ever, and I just look amazing. Look at ME!

4. Night. You blundering dunderheads can’t even see in the dark. Want to know how many times I’ve fallen over a human when the lights are off? None. When oversized, underbalanced simpletons like you wander around without burning electricity, however, you’re endlessly falling over me (especially the tall one with the ginger beard). Because I’m abso-fucking-beauteously wonderful, and because I like to hang around in the hallway. To mock you. Because I can.

5. Temperature. You mewling, simpering feckless nonentities can’t even regulate your own body temperatures, but I can; I’m the master of my own temperature. The nearest you feeble people come to accomplishing that is the human inhabitants of the North-East of England: Geordies. But they lack my sonorous voice and natural grace. Also, despite their bravura, many of them die of hypothermia on their way home in the winter. But I haven’t. Ever. It would be a waste of one of my nine lives (eight better than you) if I were to do so, and I’m not prepared to do it.

6. Size Is Important. Just look at the size of yourself, you lumbering bioped. Look at the amount of space that your unwieldy, bloated, overstuffed body takes up. Where human designers prattle on about space efficiency as some sort of ideal, I live it. I am space efficiency. Because I take up less space than you. I can curl up into a tiny-weeny ball. Can you? No. Not at all. But I can. I’m fantastic.

7. Nature. I’m just naturally better than you. I am. When you poo, does anyone scurry around to scoop it up? No, of course not. You have to dispose of it yourself. But when I shit, one of my underlings comes and disposes of it for me. Every time. Because I’m a cat, and they’re not. In fact, everything revolves around me, abso-fucking-lutely-everything. Dinner is served at the regular hour at which I require it. Tradesmen come to repair the home in which I dwell and the humans who live here to serve me pay for it themselves. And, when they’re not feeding me or opening doors for me, they even let me use them as chairs. Would they do that for you? No, of course not. But they do it for me, because I’m better than you.

November 27, 2010
7 Reasons I Ended Up Appearing Quite Mad Yesterday (Even Though I’m Not)

Sometimes, when you’re sitting around, minding your own business, an event occurs. An event to which you are compelled to react. And, while your reaction is brilliantly conceived and perfectly rational, a chain of events ensues that eventually makes you appear irredeemably, unutterably, stupendously mad. Like yesterday.

This is not my neighbour's cat, nor is it my cat, nor is it my wall. This cat on a wall is from the internet.

While I was writing, a cat appeared on the six foot high wall at the bottom of my garden. One of next door’s cats. Now, I don’t want any of next door’s cats in my garden, because it’s where my cat lives. I want him to be able spend his time in the garden sleeping, licking, and staring at the gate unmolested by other cats. So I had to let the other cat know that he wasn’t welcome in our garden. Now I know how to scare a cat; it’s easy. But going outside and hissing and shouting at this cat wasn’t going to convey the right message. I needed to let the interloper know he was in another cat’s territory, and that he should stay away.

1. Plan A. I went and fetched my dozing cat from the sofa. My cat didn’t want to know. I showed him the intruder through the dining room window. He saw the other cat and ignored him. This was disappointing. This isn’t going to scare anyone I thought, as my cat fell asleep on the windowsill. This wouldn’t even scare mice. Nervous mice.

2. Plan B. Right, I thought. If the sight of my cat asleep on the windowsill isn’t enough to strike the fear of god into the intruder, I’ll have to escalate things. I’ll have to send my cat out to deal with him. I woke him up, reminded him of the presence of the other cat and carried him into the utility room. I placed him on the floor, next to his cat-flap; I delivered a rousing speech to him and then opened it so that he could sally forth to dispatch his foe. He didn’t move. He sat and purred at me. I tried to usher him through his flap, but he clearly wasn’t going to go. My cat, I thought, is a disappointment.

3. Plan C. I know, I’ll open the back door really loudly. If I can’t scare him away with a cat, then at least opening the door loudly will make the intruder run; and my cat might conceivably think that he’s the one causing him to flee in terror and emerge with feline dignity intact and be that bit braver next time. As loudly as I could, I unlocked the door and, with as much speed and force as I could muster, I heaved the door open. I was rewarded with the sight of a terror-stricken cat, fleeing for its life. Bugger, I thought, as I went to retrieve him from behind the sofa. This isn’t going well.

4. Plan D. I picked him up, returned to the utility room and carried him through the back door. “Look”, I said to the other cat, “I have a cat here and I’m not afraid to use him”. The other cat was not as moved by our presence as I had hoped that he would be. Impassively, he licked his paw and turned his head away.

5. Plan E. Okay, I clearly wasn’t being terrifying enough. I raised our cat above my head so that he was higher up than the cat on our wall. This will do it, I thought, there are only two things that can possibly go through the other cat’s mind. One: “Blimey! What the hell is that hideous giant cat/man hybrid creature over there, I’d better run for it”. Or two: “ Blimey! Look what that man’s doing to that feckless fat-cat from next door. I’m probably next. I’d better run for it.” But if these things went through his mind, he didn’t show it; unless this cat instinctively displays abject terror by blinking slowly, that is. I was going to have to get nearer.

6. Plan F. With my arms fully outstretched, cat held aloft, above my head; I charged toward the other cat. It didn’t move. I was closing quickly and when I got to within eight feet it still hadn’t moved.

7. Plan G. Realising that my charge wasn’t unnerving enough, I decided that I needed a war cry, and I began to roar (at a volume which surprised even me) as I charged through the garden. But the other cat still hadn’t moved, and I was almost upon it. I realised it needed a little more time to realise the desperate situation it was in, so I pulled away at the last moment to run a lap of my garden, still roaring and, as my cat and I rounded the top of the garden and turned to face the enemy once more I saw him react, startled, jump down from the wall and run. My jubilation was short lived. I also saw…

…My neighbour emerge from her back door, the sound of which had presumably – unbeknownst to her, as she couldn’t possibly have seen it – scared the other cat away. I slowed to a halt and stopped roaring. “Hi”, I said, breezily, realising I still had the cat above my head, and that I probably looked quite foolish.

“Er…Hi”, she replied.

I felt self-conscious, and it occurred to me that some sort of explanation of my behaviour was required. “I was just scaring the cat”.

“I’m not surprised”, she replied.

November 11, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: One Year In Numbers!

Wednesday 27th October 2010 marks the first birthday of 7 Reasons. In the past year we have written approximately 2,000 reasons. Which, thinking about it, is 1,993 more than we should have done. We have also had countless guest writers and hundreds upon hundreds of comments. Some good, mostly anti-Jon. All in all, it’s been pretty good. Hopefully year two will be even better. Maybe a book? Maybe a panel show? Maybe we’ll finally appear in Esquire? Who knows. But that’s the future. Today, I want to concentrate on what we’ve achieved.

Right, now that’s done, we can move on. Oh, but before we do, can we just say thank you to everyone who has read 7 Reasons over the last year. And give an even bigger thank you to those who have commented on and/or shared 7 Reasons posts. And then there needs to be an even bigger thank you to all those who have written for us. Saturdays wouldn’t be the same without you. Now let’s hug. Okay, that’s long enough. Someone’s lemon is pressing into my thigh.

October 24, 2010
7 Reasons a Komodo Dragon is the Ideal Pet

The Komodo dragon: A carnivorous lizard that can grow up to 9.8 feet in length might, to the uninformed layman, seem like a poor choice of pet. But it isn’t. The Komodo dragon is, in fact, the ideal domestic animal for many people. And here are seven reasons why.

1. They’re Cool. Just look at it! It’s a veritable behemoth of a dinosaur/land-crocodile/lumbering monster. It’s got a forked tongue and a pointy tail! It makes next door’s dog look rubbish in comparison. In fact, it will probably eat next door’s dog. Then you won’t have to put up with the damned thing barking at aeroplanes and at your bicycle all night. You’ll be the envy of your neighbourhood because being the owner of a Komodo dragon is cool, and being the owner of a missing dog is not cool. Even if you do a very good job on the posters.

2. Health. For elderly people, a pet can be most advantageous to their health. A small dog can keep them company and provide them with stimulation in the form of exercise. But, for young, active people, a small dog doesn’t go far enough. You need larger, more demanding pet. The physical and mental challenge of getting past a Komodo dragon in your hallway every morning will leave you feeling alive, alert and invigorated. If you are successful, that is. If you’re not successful then at least you may have lost some weight. And you’ll be better motivated the next time. And how many limbs do you really need anyway?

3. Eggs. Komodo dragons lay eggs. This is beneficial as the conventional method of getting fresh eggs is to keep chickens, which are scary creatures with cruel, unblinking eyes and alarmingly pointed beaks that make clucking noises and peck you when you’re not expecting it. But if you keep a Komodo dragon as a pet, you can have fresh eggs for breakfast without ever having to suffer the presence of a chicken again.

4. Return To A Simpler, Bygone Age. “It was much better in my day”, we’re often told by nostalgic elders, wistfully pining for a return to the society of their youth; “we could go out all day and leave our doors unlocked”. And with a Komodo dragon as your pet, you too will be able to go out all day and leave your doors unlocked. Hell, if your Komodo dragon grows big enough, you won’t even need doors. And if the elderly are to be believed, this will be bloody marvellous. In the fullness of time, you’ll be able to bore your grandkids senseless about how nice it was in your day without keys/locks/doors/bolts/alarms or any other security paraphernalia, just good old Tufty guarding the house and the odd bobby on the beat strolling by. That’s if your grandchildren haven’t been eaten by Tufty, of course. And even if they have been, that’s all the more Werther’s Original and Jamaica ginger cake for you. There is literally no downside to Komodo dragon ownership.

5. Feeding. Now I know what you’re thinking and stop that right now: He will not find you less attractive if you wear the shoes with the smaller heels, and she will not notice that the browsing history’s disappeared from the laptop again. Well, she will now, I should never have mentioned it. Sorry. Anyway, I also know that you’re thinking: A Komodo dragon will eat me out of house and home; surely I’d be better off getting a cat. But you’re wrong. Because cats need feeding twice a day, and Komodo dragons can eat on as few as twelve occasions per year, which is 718 less feeds per annum than a cat requires. Admittedly your Komodo dragon will probably need something more substantial than a bowl of Whiskas; a couple of kilograms of mince, perhaps. Or a goat. But that still seems like less food than a cat would consume. In fact, you may never need to feed it at all as, if you let your Komodo dragon out of the house, it will happily forage for pedestrians all by itself.

6. Reproduction. Now I’m not an expert on the reproductive systems of Komodo dragons but, at 7 Reasons (.org) we are nothing if not well-researched.* And, during the initial minute of my study into fauna native to the island of Komodo, I unearthed this amazing fact: The Komodo dragon does not have a diaphragm. This is great for the Komodo dragon owner, as it means that they’ll be fantastically easy to breed: The female won’t have to disappear to the bathroom for ages beforehand, and the male won’t get bored waiting and begin to think about chips. You can’t argue with science like that. A little knowledge truly does go a long way.

7. Home Movies. Many owners film their pets and then show the movies to their friends. But other people’s pets are really dull (unless they have a Komodo dragon, of course). And friends and family can only stand to watch a film of your hamster chewing some string or your cat staring at a gate so many times before their thoughts begin to turn to murder. But if you had a Komodo dragon, built a small set, and filmed in a B-movie style, your pet-movies would be like Godzilla. And that would be beyond amazing. That would be so awesome that we’d need to invent a new word for it: Preferably one that will survive predictive text and is easy to type with the odd missing digit/hand, and while running down a hallway.

I have finished writing now, so go forth to your pet shops and purchase Komodo dragons.**

*The words nothing and if are entirely superfluous.

**7 Reasons (.org) is not legally responsible for anything. At all.

September 24, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: Killing Three Lemons With One Cat

Hello! It’s me, Jon (the one with the ginger moustache and no feet if you’ve just been looking at our ‘About Us’ page). It’s Sunday and for a second Sunday in a row I am in charge of Sundays. Marc has taken the day off to be in charge of lemons. The more observant of you will have noticed a new category at the header of the site. ‘Top Posts’. As the name suggests, this category features our best posts. These have been determined by a number of factors, such as number of views, but it is in no way a definitive list. This is where you come in. In October, 7 Reasons will be celebrating its first birthday. We are already making plans and the lemon drizzle cake is only surpassed by the lemonade. On our birthday we would like to announce the greatest 7 Reasons post ever. As voted by you, our loyal, not so loyal and ‘how-the-hell-did-I-end-up-on-this-site’ readers. Our first aim is to create a shortlist of ten posts. And that, you’ll be pleased to hear, is your responsibility. Please feel free to check the Top Posts (and, if you are inclined, the rest of the site) and let us know which of the posts you loved/liked/thought were bearable. Then all you have to do is check back in two weeks time, when one of us (hopefully Marc) will have worked out how the hell we do a poll on this site. Thanks for your help!

Oh, and one lucky voter will win a signed lemon. Or two. Or ten.

September 12, 2010