Tag: Charity

Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Take Part In The Next Fancy Dress Marathon

For most people, the mere idea of running a 26-mile marathon is liable to induce feelings of discomfort and possibly a little unwanted sweating. But to do it dressed as a giant vegetable? That’s just silly. So why do people do it?

1. Fun. Fancy dress is undoubtedly fun. Whether hiring costumes from a shop or assembling them DIY-style, the possibilities are almost endless. Runners have appeared as superheroes, vehicles, plants, planets and beasts of all shapes and sizes.

On the day, the camaraderie between those in fancy dress makes the experience highly enjoyable. The crowds always give an extra cheer for those who’ve made an effort. The fancy dress crew provide a much-needed antidote to the frowning seriousness of the professional runners.

2. Charity. Many marathons require that runners raise a certain amount of money for charity in order to enter. Unfortunately, with the global economy in exceedingly poor shape, it’s harder than ever to convince people to donate. Research has shown that people are far more likely to give to charity if the asker can make them smile. What better way than presenting them with the mental image of a giant sweaty sausage?

3. Personal Achievement. Everyone needs a goal in life. For some, it’s finding the nearest take-away. For others, it’s a matter of finding a suitable challenge. Running a marathon is one of the many endurance-style feats undertaken by those hoping to better themselves. For those who’ve already finished a marathon, doing another one – but this time wearing fancy dress – is the logical next step.

4. Strength. Children’s fancy dress costumes aside, the average adult outfit adds around 16kg to a runner’s weight. Running around with this added mass will increase core strength. Perhaps more importantly, it’ll also increase mental strength and resilience.

5. Health. The resting heart rate of the average person is approximately 80 beats a minute. For fitter people, such as those entering marathons, it can be as low as 50 beats a minute. To get super fit, people try to keep their heart rate within a target zone for sustained periods. This is easier in fancy dress, where the extra exertion keeps the heart pumping.

Other health benefits from donning a costume include rapid calorie burning and an increase in high-density lipoprotein – the so-called ‘good’ cholesterol. For those trying to detox, wearing fancy dress will almost double the amount of fluid lost through sweating.

6. Kudos. New acquaintances at the pub will be amazed, or confused, by the commitment required to run far wearing a lot. Whatever the response, it’s a good start to a conversation. And any potential love interests will always choose enormous running chickens over regularly dressed people.

7. Masochism. Let’s face it, some people like a little suffering. What better way to suffer than to run for miles clad head-to-toe in faux fur, plastic and other non-breathable man-made materials? When the Sunday Telegraph newspaper monitored a man running in a chicken suit, it found that his body temperature rose to 40C (104F). Tortuous indeed.

January 31, 2012
7 Reasons To Buy A Buttock

Hello! That probably isn’t a title you were expecting to see today, and it wasn’t one I was expecting to write either, but life has just thrown something so amazing and unexpected at me that I feel compelled to share it with you. The BBC has reported that there’s a buttock for sale. That’s right. A buttock! Here are seven reasons to buy it.

1. It’s Not Just Any Buttock. It’s Saddam Hussein’s! You can own a part of a tyrant’s tush; a dictator’s derriere; a bully’s bum; an autocrat’s anus; a totalitarian’s tail. It’s half of Saddam Hussein’s bottom!

2. It’s Got An Amazing History. I’m certain that there are very few people in the world that haven’t seen the footage of Saddam Hussein’s statue being toppled in Firdos Square by US Marines. Well, it’s a part of that statue! A part of the arse of that statue! Half, in fact. It was collected by former SAS soldier, Nigel Ely, who was working with a TV crew at the time. According to the BBC:

Finding the bronze statue face-down, the ex-serviceman enlisted the help of a marine armed with a crowbar and a sledgehammer to cut out half of the despot’s backside.

Genius! With the entire back of this historic statue to choose from Mr Ely selected half of the bum as a souvenir. And he got an American to help him. “What!? You want me to help you remove half the statue’s ass? Sure, why not?” As if being asked to remove a tyrant’s butt-cheek was an everyday occurence in the marines. Perhaps it is.

3. It’s In Derby. Ever been to Derby? Yes? Well now there’s something to do there! And it’s buying a backside at an auction. Saddam Hussein? You can go to Derby and bid on his ass.

4. It’s For Charity. Proceeds from the sale of 50% of Saddam Hussein’s posterior will go towards helping injured ex-service-personnel from the UK and the US, so whoever purchases it will actually be doing something worthy. I can confidently state that money for a great cause will be the best thing that’s ever come out of Saddam Hussein’s bottom.

5. It’s Made Of Bronze! Bronze! So the winning bidder won’t be invited to sell it during every commercial break and at every other new shop on the high street. It’ll also be highly resistant to saltwater corrosion. If they so desire, the lucky purchaser can melt it down and make something else from it. A bust, perhaps, or a porthole.

6. It’s Unique (Almost). It’s not guaranteed to be absolutely unique as, unless there’s something surprising about Saddam Hussein’s anatomy that I’m not privy to, there’s potentially another buttock out there. But that could prove lucrative as they’d be worth far more as a pair. I have no idea how you’d find the other one, but tracking it down could be a great hobby for someone. I don’t reccomend using a search engine though, as I imagine that googling “Saddam Hussein’s arse” will probably bring you to this website in the future. As if we didn’t get enough weirdos. We’ve had “where is dangling place” and “how to read on the toilet” in the last half hour. And I’m loathe to mention the “horse sex tube”. Bugger.

7. It’ll Be In Your House! Or perhaps your garden. Wherever you choose to keep it though, it’ll be the greatest talking point of all time. “May I use your bathroom?” “Sure, it’s the door over there, just next to Saddam Hussein’s buttock.” “Where did you plant the begonia?” “By Saddam Hussein’s arse.” Seriously, who wouldn’t want this in their home?

October 12, 2011
7 Reasons To Be A Birdman

The other month, Worthing did something that it had never done before. It appealed to me. Or, to be more precise, the Worthing International Birdman Competition appealed to me. Lots of muppets chucking themselves off Worthing pier. Brilliant. I doubt they needed persuading, but if you have ever considered being a Birdman, here are seven compelling reasons why you should definitely do it.

1. The Horn. We’re all a little bit kinky at heart. We probably won’t admit it – which is why I’m admitting it on your behalf – but the idea of spandex and lycra is not all too alien to us. Opportunities to wear such attire rarely show themselves however, which is why being a Birdman is the perfect excuse. You could be Superman or Bananaman or Robin or a Dominatrix. You get a cheap thrill and no one bats an eye lid. Perfect.

2. Funding. If you went up to your friends and said, “I’m dressing up as Peter Pan, can I have a fiver?” you’d probably get laughed out of the room. Well, pushed anyway. Saying that you’re doing if for charity though and they’ll be far quicker to the cash point. Of course you’re not going to give it to charity, you’re just funding your unemployment habit.

3. Cred. R Kelly’s masterpiece I Believe I Can Fly is often cited as being thoroughly whimsical. No one really believes they can fly. Not even me after half a Peroni. Being a Birdman, though, gives this song new credibility. So, if you don’t want to be a Birdman so you can throw yourself off a pier, do it for Robert Sylvester.

4. Impress. Why was Superman so popular with the ladies? It wasn’t his glasses. Or his ability to stalk Lois Lane. It was because he could fly. And perhaps because he could protect you against just about anything that wasn’t within close proximity of a green, shiny rock. Mainly though, it was because he could fly. So, if there is someone out there you want to impress – and your 1995 Premier League Sticker Album is failing to do the magic – be a Birdman. (As for why Superman was so popular with the men. Well that comes down to Teri Hatcher. Superman managed to marry her, James Bond managed to get her killed. Muppet.).

5. Punishment. Maybe you’ve let yourself down. Perhaps you dropped a catch. Perhaps you shouted at your Mum. If you are not a Roman Catholic you gave not ask for forgiveness, so go and be a Birdman. A poor Birdman though. It is your duty to simply belly flop off the pier. That is your comeuppance. And if it doesn’t hurt, do it again. And again. And again. Only when you have tears in your eyes and at least one broken rib can you stop.

6. Film. There is little debate that Birdman Of Alcatraz is a good film, but, let’s be honest, while it contained a lot of stuff about sparrows, there was very little of Burt Lancaster disguising himself as a sparrow and trying to escape. I know it was based on a true story, but had John Frankenheimer never heard of artistic license? Should you prove yourself to be a good Birdman there is a very real possibility that you might find yourself cast alongside Simon Bird, Russell Crowe and Ethan Hawke in Birdman Of Alcatraz 2: Feathered Creatures.

7. Men Can Be Birds Too. I once knew a bloke called Kieran. I say ‘once knew’ because I don’t know him anymore. Sadly, he’s no longer with us. It’s okay, he’s not dead. He’s now a woman called Cynthia. Now, changing sex is not my kind of thing, but it’s what he/she wanted to do and I can only commend him/her on his/her decision to go through with it. I only wish that there had been a Birdman competition while he was contemplating the procedure. That way he could have experienced being a bird without the great expense. Still, he’s got boobs to play with now so I expect she’s happy.

October 3, 2011
7 Reasons That Chugging Doesn’t Work On Me

Chugging: I hate it. Being chugged is a loathsome experience and I can’t help thinking ill of chuggers either. And their chuggery-pokery just doesn’t work on me. Here’s why.

1. It’s Always Me. Anyone who claims that they are always targeted by chuggers might come across as somewhat paranoid or persecutional. But, the fact is, that I am always targeted by chuggers. Literally, every last damned one of them will see me coming and try to stop me on the street. Other people seem to be able to walk along the street unmolested. My wife, for example, rarely gets stopped, but I can’t walk down a busy shopping street without having to fight off swarms (no idea what the collective noun for chuggers is. A horde? A phalanx? A menace?) of them. Do I have a kind face? Do I look gullible? Do I look like Danny Wallace? No, none of those things (well perhaps the second) but, despite this, Saturday afternoon shopping for me is like running the gauntlet, but with fewer Romans, and more laminated id cards on lanyards.

2. Time. The assumption that my time isn’t important is infuriating. They’re trying to steal my time. And I like time. I don’t have enough of it already, so I’m very protective of the time that I have. If I’m wandering around town with some friends looking relaxed and happy, then that’s because it’s time I’ve set aside for wandering around town with my friends looking relaxed and happy. It’s not an indicator that my time would be better spent talking to a chugger about cancer for ten minutes before we both agree that it’s probably a bad thing and I give them all my money via direct debit over the next five years. Nor is it an indicator that I’m not doing anything important. I am. The assumption that I’ve nothing better to do than talk (or, as they prefer; listen, nod and agree) with someone I don’t know about a cause that they’re interested in is just arrogant.

3. The Guilt-Trip. A woman signing people up to an environmental charity once said to me, as I rushed past her on the way to meet my wife for lunch, “Don’t you care about the environment?”. This was brilliant. I could reply “no”, and appear to be a borderline sociopath who cared not one whit about something fundamental to human existence, or I could reply “yes”, and leave myself open to her pitch. Because that’s what she wanted. She wanted use my innate sense of social responsibility and congenital niceness to trap me into a dialogue with her. I had to think on my feet. “Don’t you care about my wife?”, I replied. This worked. She just gazed at me, perplexed, which allowed me to continue my journey*. But why should I be made to feel guilty just because my agenda is different and I don’t want to stop and sign up to her cause?

4. Politeness. I’m a well-brought-up young man. And chugging attempts to ruthlessly exploit that to deprive me of time and money. I was raised to be nice to people. To stop and listen to them when they are talking to me and certainly not to ignore someone and walk away when they’re addressing me. But chugging forces me to do that. This makes me feel like a bad person. Not as bad as Hitler, obviously, but not as good as I would like to think I am, which is sort of a happy medium between Mother Theresa and the Pope. And by a happy medium, I don’t mean Derek Ocorah, he seems like a right misery. I hate having to interrupt people in order to go about my business. It makes me feel awful.

5. Passion. There’s no doubt that many chuggers are passionate about the causes they are trying to sign people up to. But that doesn’t mean that I’m passionate about that cause. And that doesn’t make me a bad person. If I don’t want to sign up to a lifetime of Red Cross junk mail, email or any other form of spam that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about medicine or disaster relief. What it does mean is that perhaps my money and time (both of which are finite resources) go to other – equally worthy – causes that I prefer. What I shouldn’t have to do is justify that decision to a stranger every time I go into town to buy some light bulbs or a new wok.**

6. It’s Cynical. Chuggers are earning money to sign people up to their causes. They’re not being paid commission, this is a myth. But no one would get paid a wage if they weren’t effectively raising money for the causes that they represent. So while they’re attempting to make me feel guilty for not signing up to (which they tend not to recognise is a wholly different thing to not caring about) their causes, they’re profiting from the transaction. Their attempts to sign me up aren’t wholly altruistic yet they’re represented as being so. It causes me to wonder whether they genuinely believe in what they’re trying to sign me up to, or whether they’re cynically attempting to exploit me to hit a performance target.

7. It Taints My View Of The Charity. In fact, it makes me think uncharitable thoughts about charitable causes. I love Amnesty International, I think it’s a brilliant organisation, but will they be getting any money from me? No. Because I’m the sort of person who won’t support organisations whose practices I disagree with. I’m not saying I definitely would have donated money to AI had they not attempted to sign me up twelve times one Wednesday afternoon (which, ironically, may be an infringement of my human rights), but I certainly won’t be doing so now. I won’t be signing up to any morally reprehensible pro-oppression organisations to spite Amnesty though, that would be taking things too far, and the WI seem to be getting on fine without my help, but Amnesty have insured that they won’t be getting any of my money. Their chugging has been counter-productive.

*I could have substituted any phrase for “my wife” as long as I’d answered the question with a question. It’s foolproof. “The Gruffalo”, “Mathematical Biology”, “my underpants”,”The Moon”,”Cheryl Cole”. All of those would have worked equally well and would have allowed me to make my escape. Try it yourself.

**Which is not very often, I don’t go through an abnormal amount of woks. I go through a regular amount of woks.

January 13, 2011
7 Reasons to Embrace Junk Mail

Junk mail. No one likes it, but there are valid reasons to embrace it. We don’t mean give it a cuddle, that would be weird; we mean accept and enjoy it, because there are – fortunately for us – almost seven reasons to.

Junk Mail (Image courtesy of Stop Junk Mail)*

1. Wanted. There is something very comforting about the sound of your letter box opening and something dropping onto the floor. It makes you feel wanted and loved. If it’s a bill then it’s good to know British Gas care that you are still alive and if it’s junk mail – probably from the local estate agent asking you if you would like to consider selling your house to a family of five who have just moved to the area – well it’s good to know that they think you are friendly. You know, the kind of person who would consider moving for a family of five. The estate agents wouldn’t put the same letter through Lord Sugar’s letter box would they? No. Because he has evil in his eyes. And a guard dog.

2. New Experiences. One of the most regular pieces of junk mail that adorns house mats all over the country are those from local (and not so local) take-away restaurants. Whether it’s Indian, Chinese, Taiwanese, Bangladeshi, Italian or Chav, what a great way to start experiencing a different culture. It might only take you one chicken dansak to decide that you want to go and experience India for itself or it might only take one late pizza delivery by a teenager who calls you ‘boss’ to make you decide you are living in the wrong part of town.

3. Pens. They say that you can never have too many pens. And fortunately, charities have challenged this age-old assumption by providing them to us free of charge to us via the medium of junk mail. And it turns out that you can have too many pens. I write stuff every day, in fact you’re reading it now. I write far more than the average person and rarely use a pen. I require one pen, for the purpose of writing down random notes that I can’t read later on and eventually turn into paper aeroplanes. Fortunately though, there is an alternate use for all of the pens that charities send to me at a loss. I use them as legs for my four-legged (and six-legged) potato animals. I clearly have too many pens. And potatoes.

4. Rubbish. To be embraced heavily are those charity bags that get stuck in your letter box. You know, those that the charities ask you to fill with old and unwanted clothes. Well, if you do manage to remove them from the letter box without ripping them, they make brilliant bin bags. Don’t go walking down the street swinging one around in the breeze though, you’ll become a prime chugger target. You’ll get chugged. In a chugging.

5. Baldness. We don’t know everything about the 7 Reasons readership. The 7 Reasons team both have hair, and we imagine that our readers do too. But there may be some who are afflicted with baldness. And, if there should be such people reading, they might learn from this use of junk-mail. Because back – way back – in history, in a time almost lost to human memory there was once a thing, a sort of a big flaming ball of heat and light that dwelt in the sky. Some cultures worshipped it, some feared it, and it had many names. Here, it was known as the sun. And, in those far-gone days, when it lit up the sky, it was a menace to the follicularly challenged who lacked the natural protection from its rays that the rest of us take for granted. But with junk-mail there’s always a free emergency hat lying on their doormat, waiting to be origamied. Just in case the great orb in the sky should ever reappear, as unlikely as that seems.

6. Love. If this isn’t enough to satisfy your junk mail habit, then the final option is to create a junk mail-mache person. Then you can really embrace it if you are that way inclined. Or a pervert as it is more commonly known. Just make sure they are dry first.*

7. Lifestyle. As a guide to living, junk mail is invaluable. Want to know what not to eat or drink? All of that information is conveniently posted unsolicited through your letterbox. Whether it’s takeaways, highly dubious drinks delivery services, or the offers at your local branch of Londis. If a picture of something (these things are always pictorial) comes through your letterbox, then it’s disgusting and common and bad for you. Yet surprisingly tempting when drunk; which is how they get you, by the way. They expect you to read them when you’re lying face-down on your own doormat having just made it home from a big night out; when your guard is down. Why else would they put them there? Bastards.

*Because wet perverts are the worst kind.

You can also use it to make one of these!

*If you can’t find the love to embrace junk mail, check out Stop Junk Mail here.

December 10, 2010
7 Reasons This Magazine Has Ruined Everything

Somethings in life, you just don’t expect. One such thing was my rejection from the 2011 London Marathon. It’s me, Jon, by the way. Just in case you are my co-writer Marc, and are wondering when the hell you entered the ballot. It’s the fourth time I have entered the ballot and failed. That’s quite unlucky. And for someone who despises failure in all its forms, a horrendous turn of events. I was so sure I was going to get an accepted magazine this year. It was my turn. It was my year. But I didn’t. I got a poxy, ‘Commiserations, your ballot application to run the 2011 Virgin London Marathon has been unsuccessful but there’s still a chance to run…’ magazine. Poxiness. Complete poxiness. And it’s ruined everything.

1. Targets. I work best when I have targets. Something to aim for. A deadline. A tea-break. Dinner. Mainly though, it’s a deadline. When I have a deadline, I know what I have to do. Everything is in front of me. Everything is clear. I can plan, I can re-plan and most of all I get whatever needs to be done, done. The same goes for my running. If I have an event to prepare for, I prepare for it. I have the motivation of a medal – and one of those foil sheets that make me look like a spaceman – awaiting me on the horizon. Without that though, the only thing on the horizon is an old woman waiting for a bus, and between you and me, I can’t be bothered to run all the way over to her. So I don’t. I stay in. And eat a biscuit. And yawn. And scratch. And eat another biscuit. And life sucks. (Apart from the biscuits). So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined motivation.

2. Money. This ‘Commiserations’ magazine is going to cost me a bloody fortune. Which, considering it was free, seems both ironic and calculating. If I had got one of the better ‘Congratulations’ magazines, I would have gone on a health regime. No biscuits; no crisps; no beer; no fun. Quick calculations show that would have saved me at least £15 a week. Multiply that by the twenty-four weeks until the London Marathon actually occurs and we are looking at a minimum of £360. £360! I could have bought 28,800 tea-bags with that! Instead I bought biscuits, crisps and beer. Unbelievable. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined my tea-based caffeine addiction.

3. Trainer Manufacturers. Nike; Adidas; Reebok; Asics; all other running footwear brands. One of them has lost a sale. Actually, probably two sales. If I had been successful in the tombola, I would certainly have invested in a new pair to carry me the 26.2 miles and a spare pair in case the others got dirty. As I’m not even going to be running 26.2 metres, I am not investing. Which means one the sports good manufacturers is not going to achieve as good a turnover as they may have done and as a result someone will no doubt get sacked. Hopefully a Frenchman. That at least will bring me some comfort. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined child labour.*

4. April 17th 2011. This is the date of the London Marathon. A marathon I will not be watching. A marathon I will be avoiding. A marathon that will make me frustrated and tetchy for the whole day. In my frustrated and tetchy state, I will probably be looking for trouble. I will probably want to kick something. And that’s bad news for any living thing. Or, if I choose something more sturdy, my foot. Either way, I’d avoid me. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined next door’s cat.

5. Alternatives. Last year, when I failed to attain ‘congratulatory’ status, I went looking for alternatives. Something else to fill the void that had been left in my life. I found it in the shape of a moustache. Or, more accurately, the shape of Movember. For a whole month, people’s eyes were abused by the sight of a ginger handlebar** adorning my face. And I didn’t enjoy it much either. Due to the London Marathon’s foresight, I may well have to do it again. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined humanity.

6. The Amazon. Not only have the organisers of the 2011 London Marathon upset me, they have also upset a tree. Well, actually, they’ve gone further than just upset it. They’ve beaten it to a pulp. And it’s not just me they’ve let down. It’s 100,000 others too. And that’s a lot of tree. Now, somewhere, in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest, is a clearing they call, ‘Commiseration Place’. And, somewhere, up in the atmosphere, is much more carbon dioxide than there ever should have been. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined the planet.

7. Peaks. My sexual peak was ten years ago – though, for many reasons, that seemed to pass me by. My cricket peak was eight years ago – though, for many reasons, that seemed to last little more than a couple of hours. My writing peak was last week – though, for many reasons, it didn’t equate to much when written down. My running peak is now. Right now. In the year that I am 27. But thanks to the London Marathon, I will not be able to utilise it. Instead I will have to wait until a year/two years/five years/ten years after my running peak to take part. And that’s a long time to rent a deep-sea divers’ suit for. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined peaking.

*Thinking about it, this might be a good thing.

** Sounds more impressive than it was.

October 6, 2010