Tag: Colours

Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Men Are Scared Of Washing Machines

Historically much maligned for their domestic idleness, men have come a long way in recent years. Comfortable in the kitchen, happy to do the vacuuming and occasionally enthusiastic about childcare, the age of equality is very much here. Just don’t mention the laundry. It remains a baffling world where fancy, shiny, modern washing machines are viewed as Cyclopean nemeses, brooding away in the corner, ready to punish the simplest label-reading error or colour mix-up.

Here are seven very good reasons why doing the washing is anathema to the male of the species:

1. Men are confused that it has to happen at all, and with such astonishing regularity. Some would quite happily revert back to Victorian times when poor children were sewn into their clothes at the start of winter and then unstitched come the warmer months. Men will happily recycle a garment from the “floordrobe” – pick it up, dust it down, give it a cursory sniff and put it right back on. Who cares if it’s Thursday and they’ve been wearing it since Monday?

2. Powder, tablets, balls, gels – the list of things you can put in a washing machine has seemingly grown exponentially in recent years. It used to be simple – you put the powder in the drawer and that was it. Now some things go in the drawer, some go in the drum and some go in a bag in the drum – it’s become a very, very confusing world. Men would rather not risk putting the wrong thing in the wrong place.

3. Can he put his bath towel in with his pants? Can he wash that white merino wool sweater with his new red socks? Can he chuck his jeans in with his chinos? Constructing the ideal load is a minefield and best left to the experts. Especially after what happened to her favourite white top the last time he tried to be helpful. . .

4. Why are clothing labels full of symbols akin to those found on the walls of Egyptian tombs? A man shouldn’t need a copy of the Rosetta stone to decipher the care label on his favourite T-shirt. All those triangles, squares and circles resemble some kind of devilish cypher that war-time codebreakers would struggle to crack.

5. And if the clothes labels are bad, what about the dials on the machine? All those symbols, programmes AND temperatures – they are just a recipe for disaster. What’s wrong with a big button that just says “wash clothes”?

6. Men famously struggle with having a thorough look for something. A so-called “man look” involves confidently claiming to have looked everywhere for the house keys with no success.

Her: “Have you checked the top drawer in the hall?”
Him: “Yes, I had a look and they weren’t there.”
[Two minutes later]
Her: “Here they are.”
Him: “Where were they?”
Her: “In the top drawer in the hall. You must have had a man look.”

What does this have to do with washing? Well, there are all those pockets to go through and a man knows that he will inevitably fail to remove a golf ball that will proceed to rattle around the washing machine drum for half an hour or a tissue that will deconstruct itself all over a favourite jumper. Oh, and has anyone seen the cat?

7. Finally, doing the washing invariably leads to another baffling exercise: ironing. And that is not a path down which any man wishes to voluntarily tread . . .

July 25, 2013
7 Reasons That A Red Bucket Is The Most Amazing Thing In The World

Hello 7 Reasons readers. Due to unforeseen circumstances we’re going to publish a guest post on a Thursday, which is something that we’ve never done before. So here, taking up not very much space on the 7 Reasons sofa at all, but making quite a lot of noise and a bit of a smell that we’re pretending not to notice, is today’s guest poster. Possibly our youngest ever.

Hello! My name’s Byron Sebastian Fearns and I’m a baby. Now I may not have seen much in my five and three quarter months, but today the most wonderful thing happened and I was compelled to share with you what I discovered; it is the most exciting thing in the whole history of the world ever. It’s something called a red bucket. Here are seven reasons that it’s more amazing than anything else, even elephants and balls.

1. It’s Red! The first thing I noticed when my mother and father wheeled me through the big building full of shiny stuff and dishcloths and picked up my toy that I now know is called a “bucket” (which rhymes with “fuck it”, a phrase I heard my father say once shortly before mother became very cross) was that it is red. This means that it’s amazing and not blue or yellow like everything else that people buy for me on the basis that “it’s for a boy” or that “yellow is a neutral colour”. I don’t like blue (it is a colour that makes my father cry at football matches) and I’m not neutral. If I liked neutral colours I’d hurl magnolia coloured food at the walls rather than orange coloured food. I like bright colours! I like red!

2. It Makes A Noise! It does! As we perambulated through the big building full of shiny stuff and dishcloths Father turned the bucket upside-down and began banging on the bottom of it. It made a noise like the noise that the man next door makes all day long in his kitchen or the sound that Father sometimes makes with his head on the desk after he has stared at a white screen for a considerable period of time. I’m relatively new to the concept of onomatopoeia, but it made a noise that sounded like thump-thump-diddle-diddle-ump and was very loud. The ladies that live in the big building full of shiny things seemed most impressed.

3. It’s Hilarious! Then we took my bucket to the park where the trees and squirrels live. We lay down on the grass and, after I had completed a short bout of screaming for absolutely no reason, Father said “Look Byron” and put the bucket over his head. This was the funniest thing I have ever seen. Ever! Father then took it off his head and put it back on his head and I laughed again. We did this for hours! Father enjoyed this so much that he started rolling his eyes and staring at his watch with delight.

4. It Makes Another Noise! Just when I felt that I might eventually tire of Father putting the bucket on his head, taking it off again and then putting it back on his head, something amazing happened. Father coughed and it sounded like the deepest loudest sound ever heard by anyone at all. This was hilarious. I laughed for ages. Then Father made other noises in the bucket too and they were even funnier. They were so funny that I laughed more than I ever have before; they were so funny that Mother had to edge slowly away from us in case she injured herself with all of the fun; they were so funny that Father suddenly became religious and started asking god when he could go home. He spoke to god in the bucket! Oh, how I laughed.

5. It Moves! Then Father stood up and started running round the park with the bucket on his head and pretended to be a monster (which is a creature similar to a dog). “Rooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrr!” he said as he ran round a tree; “Roooooooooaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!!” he said as he ran past a bench; “Rooooooaaaaarrrrrrr!!!!!!!” he said as he ran behind a bush”; “Aaaaaaaaaarrrrggghhhhhh!!!!!!” screamed a tour group from behind the bush; “Roooooaaaaaaarrrrrrr!!!!!” he said as he ran back from the bush; “OOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!!!” he said as he fell over a bin. Then he said a word that I’ve never heard before and Mother shouted a lot and we had to go home.

6. It’s Red Inside Too! On the way home Father put the bucket on my head and I thought it was the most awesome and amazing thing that it’s possible for any human to experience, ever. It turned everything in the world red and when I made a noise it was the biggest noise that anyone has ever made. It was bigger even than the noise that Father made when I weed on his coat as he was changing my nappy at the National Railway Museum. It was amazing! Then Father took the bucket off my head and the next-door-neighbours were there and they seemed concerned.

7. I Can Get In It! After a long – and really boring – conversation with the neighbours about babies and the bucket and stuff we got home and then something happened that was the most incredible, fantastical and phantasmagorical thing of all. I got into the bucket!

Look at me! I’m in the bucket.

Then Father took the bucket away and told me if I ever wanted to see it again I had to write today’s 7 Reasons post as he has something called a “headache”, which he says is a contagious disease that is contracted by proximity to children. So now I’ve written it I’m going to get the bucket back and play with it all day every day for a week. Or perhaps a month! I’m off to play with my bucket now. Bye-bye.

September 15, 2011
7 Reasons Pablo Picasso’s La Lecture Is Not Worth £25M

Last night, Pablo Picasso’s alleged masterpiece, La Lecture, sold at Sotherby’s for just over £25M. Twenty. Five. Million. Pounds. Now, I know art is subjective, but how?! There is so much wrong with it. So much. Let’s start with seven:

1. Lines. Seriously, if I had paid £25M for a painting I would at least expect the artist to be able to draw a straight line. I assume – which given the state of this picture is probably a dangerous thing to do – that the thing behind this girl is a chair. Well what the bloody hell is going on with the top of it? If you struggle to line things up get a ruler. And rulers did exist in 1932. I’ve checked.

2. Perspective. This picture would make much more sense if we could only see one half of the girl’s face. Instead of that we have something that clearly inspired the formation of gypsies.

3. Nose. Good gracious it’s a big one. Too big I would wager. The bridge of one’s nose usually ends in line with the eyes, this poor girl’s nose ends somewhere at the top of her forehead. Which raises two questions. One, is this an accurate portrayal of the young girl? Two, if it is why on earth wouldn’t Picasso have chosen someone better looking? You may think I am shallow for saying that, but paintings do not have personality. They simply don’t. And anyone who says, “I just adore the personality of this piece,” is a prick.

4. Neck. The last time I saw a neck like this, Gladstone Small was playing for England. I am beginning to wonder if Picasso really did like this girl? The big freak.

5. Breast. That’s right, just the one. At least I assume it’s supposed to be a breast. It might well be a ring doughnut. Or a bagel. Or perhaps the fire alarm fell off the wall. I know art is supposed to leave something to the imagination, but this takes the biscuit. Ooh, perhaps it’s a Jammie Dodger.

6. Time + Materials. I think that is a fair way to establish how much a painting is worth. So let’s have a look at La Lecture. These are only rough calculations, but I would guess the following: Time spent painting = eight minutes. Cost of crayons = £3.49. A brilliant artist could probably get away with charging £2,500/hour. Judging by the above, I would say Picasso could get away with charging £2.50/hour. So I reckon La Lecture is probably worth about £3.82. That’s about £25M less than it sold for. It’s a difficult one to explain to the wife.

7. Morals. I question the morality of the buyer here. This painting depicts the image of Marie-Therese Walter, Picasso’s 17 year old extramarital lover. That’s not right. In fact it’s wrong. If Picasso wanted to get his end away with a teenage girl he could at least have had the decency to divorce his wife first. There is no excuse for sleeping behind people’s backs. And, judging by the expression on Walter’s face that is exactly what had happened about five minutes before Picasso whipped out the crayons. By allowing the sale of this painting for £25M what are we saying? It’s okay to sleep around so long as you produce a bunch of distorted lines afterwards? Sad times.

February 9, 2011