Tag: Cricket

Guest Post: 7 Reasons My Wife Buys The Best Presents

Just supposing, for instance, that this was the last Guest Post we ever published. Who would you like it to be written by? I suspect at least 26% of you would choose Richard O’Hagan. Like Dr Simon Percy Jennifer Best who posted last week and Liz Gregory who posted a few weeks ago, Richard is a 7 Reasons stalwart. He’s the author of The Memory Blog, the face behind @theskiver and he likes marmite. That, we think, is all you need to know.

Crisps!

It recently came to my attention that there are people out there who make a career of going shopping for other people. Now, personally, I cannot think of anything worse than going shopping for other people. I mean, going shopping for myself is stressful enough. Going shopping for presents doubly so. Why on earth would you want to make a career out of it*?

Fortunately**, I am married to a woman who also hates shopping. Which therefore makes it even more surprising that she is the best present buyer ever. I don’t just mean by comparison with me, either, because I am completely rubbish at it (one year I gave her a cheese grater as a gift). Just consider this: The People Who Buy Presents For Other People need you to give them some sort of a list, so that they know roughly what to get. I have a wish list on Amazon – two of them, in fact – and my wife almost never uses it. Instead, she uses her initiative to come up with wonderful gifts such as this:

1. A Box of Seabrook’s Tomato Ketchup Crisps. My life is an endless quest for ketchup flavoured crisps, and has been ever since I first tried them on our honeymoon. Since when I have rarely seen them in the shops, not even in the USA where, frankly, you’d expect the locals to be munching them down for breakfast lunch and dinner. It had never occurred to me to simply see if you could buy them off the internet, but my wife did.

2. A Cross Pen. No, not an angry writing implement. I once commented to my wife that my Tombo fountain pen seemed to be nearing the end of its life. I then thought no more of it until, approximately three months later, I received a beautiful Cross pen as a Christmas present. A pen of such high quality that I’ve had to learn how to write with it. And I didn’t even ask for it.

3. A Book About Scriptwriting. For almost two years now (or over two years, depending upon when this gets published) I have been labouring over a script for a television comedy. It is very hard to get a script commissioned if you are not either an established writer, or related to one, or both. It hadn’t even occurred to me that there are books that I could consult about the subject, but this one now nestles in my bedside cabinet where I can dip into it whenever I want. So far, it has been invaluable.

4. A Letter Opener. I don’t get much mail, and most of what I do get is either bills that I have already received online and magazines that I subscribe to. But every now and then I get a proper letter, in a proper envelope, and I need to open it. My fingers are not only large, but they are often in a state of mangledness after a close encounter with a cricket ball or a rugby boot. I have always wanted a letter opener and was therefore extremely pleased when my wife gave me one as a Christmas present, even though I still cannot recall mentioning to her that I wanted one.

5. Marmite Spoons. That’s right, spoons for scooping the yummy delight that it Marmite out of the jar and onto your bread, toast or whatever. Each has a different Marmite jar on the top. You can’t beat being able to offer your guests Marmite with a special spoon. Words cannot describe the envious looks that I get.

6. A CD Subscription. Did you know that Rough Trade Records have a subscription service? I didn’t. My wife did. It is a very simple plan. You give them money and each month they choose a new CD and send it to you. You discover music that you might not listen to otherwise. It is like the Olympics ticket lottery, only you actually get something at the end of it. A brilliant idea, and a brilliant gift

7. Cricket. Not a gift that you can easily giftwrap, I’ll admit. Cricket may be the best game on the planet, but even I have to admit that it can take a little while to play. Despite this, my wife has never once tried to stop me playing it, or going to watch it, and lumbering her with our exuberant child to look after. There are not many better gifts that selflessly letting someone do something they love.

All of which means that you can forget using any of these services, because they will never be as inventive at gift buying as my wife is. Now, where did I put that cheese grater?

*Unless you are my mother, who would regard this as a dream job.

**For me, not necessarily for her.

October 22, 2011
This Is Not A 7 Reasons Post

Well, actually, I suppose it is. It’s just not your traditional 7 Reasons post. You see there are no reasons today.* Just an announcement. An announcement to say the Blowers t-shirts are now nestled in the 7 Reasons Emporium. And they look a bit like this:

Don’t worry, there’s the women’s version too. Which is exactly the same. Just in different colours. And smaller. If you read yesterday’s post though you will know that we felt bad about discarding the other Blowers t-shirts. Which is why we thought we’d make a few of the others too. And when I say a few, I mean twenty – ten male and ten female. They are as limited edition as it is possible to get. Unless we just made one of each. Which would be stupid. So the limited edition t-shirts – also nestled in the emporium – look like this:

You will notice that of the seven designs we drew up last week, Red Trousers, The Collection and Silhouette are not to be seen. There’s a reason for this. Or three. (Actually, we might get a 7 Reasons post out of this after all). Red Trousers got no votes. None. Not even an accidental vote that was scribbled out. Not much point in making that then. The Collection had one vote. 7 Reasons logic dictates that if only one person wants something there is no point in catering for twenty. So we haven’t. And finally Silhouette. Well, that did get quite a few votes. More than Bus Stop in fact. But it was probably illegal. Unlike the other designs, it wasn’t all our own work. Silhouette used a photo someone else had taken. We just made it look cool. Anyway, we’d have almost certainly been infringing copyright laws by selling it. So we aren’t.

So, to sum up. You can buy Hat, Glasses & Bow Tie from now until eternity. My Dear Old Thing, Bus Stop and On Mic are here until they are gone.

Finally, just a reminder that we’ll be contacting everyone who voted with their Blowers T-Shirt discount codes. Assuming we concentrate on the job in hand there is no reason why we should miss anyone, but we do have a whole heap to get through. As a result this is our safety net. If you haven’t heard from up by 6pm today send an angry email to [email protected] and we’ll sort it out.

*If you think I am going to spend hours writing a 7 Reasons piece having spent hours creating t-shirts you are sadly mistaken. I have work to do. And tennis to watch.

June 27, 2011
Russian Roulette Sunday: You’ve Decided On Blowers’ T-Shirt

On Friday we had a dilemma. We just didn’t know which Blowers’ t-shirt design to go for. So we asked you. And you voted in your droves. Having spent all night counting the votes we are pleased to annouce the winner. Well, show it to you anyway. It’s this one:

Well done. Good decision. The t-shirt will be nestled in our Emporium from tomorrow – ready to be worn by all cricket going Blowers fanatics. But the thing is, there were votes, as you’d expect, for other t-shirts too. And quite a few votes. Which by our calculations means there’ll be a lot of unhappy Blowers fans out there. So what to do? Well, we thought we’d make the lot. Except ‘Red Trousers’. That got no votes at all. So, ‘My Dear Old Thing, ‘Bus Stop’, ‘On Mic’, ‘Silhouette’ & ‘The Collection’ will also in the Emporium tomorrow. But only for limited time. In fact, we are only making twenty of each – ten male, ten female. Once they are gone, they are gone. ‘Hat, Glasses & Bow Tie’ on the other hand, will be in there indefinitely. Which is the way it should be.

Oh, one final thing, if you voted you’ll be getting a message from us in the next week with your 20% discount code.

June 26, 2011
7 Reasons We Couldn’t Decide On Blowers’ T-Shirt

You’ll know by now, or at least you should, that we are both thoroughly decent English chaps who like cricket. You’ll also know that we like the commentator extraordinaire that is Henry Blofeld. We know that’s a contentious issue. There are some who would readily describe him as ‘bumbling’. We, on the other hand, find his excitement, his love for both cricket and life, his pigeon twitching and his inability to grasp Twitter completely infectious. So much so that we want to go to the cricket wearing a Blowers t-shirt. Sadly, that is currently not possible. There is no Blowers t-shirt in existence. So, we’ve designed one. Well, seven actually. We designed one and Marc wasn’t too keen. So Marc designed one and Jon wasn’t very happy. So in the end we have designed seven and it is up to you, the humble reader, to decide which design goes to mass manufacture. Here are the choices.

1. My Dear Old Thing.

2. Hat, Glasses & Bow Tie.

3. Bus Stop.

4. Silhouette.

5. On Mic.

6. Red Trousers.

7. The Collection.

To vote for your favourite just click on an image. This will take you to Twitter where all you have to do is click ‘Send’. Clever, huh? Or you can vote on our Facebook page. Or, if you are not a Twitter or Facebook person, you can leave a comment below with your choice. There, we think that’s all bases covered. Voting closes at 11:59pm on Saturday 25th June and we’ll announce the winner in Russian Roulette Sunday, on… erm… Sunday. And, if you vote, there’ll be 20% off the t-shirt that goes to print too.

NB: T-shirt colours are subject to change, so just go with which design makes your heart sing.

June 24, 2011
7 Reasons Windowgate Is Baffling

If you’re at all interested in cricket or windows, then you can’t have failed to have noticed that, in a tale that came to be known as Windowgate, a window in the England dressing room got broken by Matt Prior at Lord’s yesterday. This story then snowballed taking many unexpected twists and turns along the way. I was listening as events unfolded. Here are seven reasons that the story is baffling.

1. The Explanation. The ECB’s initial explanation for the incident was that “the glass had been broken after Prior’s gloves ricocheted off a kit bag and knocked the bats, resting on the window pane.” This seemed almost entirely plausible. To the abjectly mad. People who have no concept of the relative mass and density of gloves and bats might also be misled by this statement. I, as an owner of both gloves and bats, however, am not taken in by what we can only call the Magic Glove theory. I can categorically state that in over thirty years of glove ownership, I have never seen one ricochet.

2. The Withdrawal Of The Explanation. By the time the explanation was withdrawn, my speculation had become fevered. So if it wasn’t a Magic Glove, what was it? Was a lone glove-man in the England dressing room hurling gloves at bats from a grassy knoll? Were bats being hurled from book depositories? Were books being hurled from bat depositories? Was there a shadowy third glove-hurler in the showers? Oh, they’ve withdrawn the explanation now. Wait! That makes it seem even more sinister and mysterious.

3. The Explanation For The Withdrawal Of The Explanation. On withdrawing his initial explanation, England spokesman James Avery said that he “had been working from second-hand information”. He failed to mention that not only was the information second-hand, it was also implausible gibberish. After all, second-hand information isn’t intrinsically bad. I didn’t find out about the sinking of the Titanic first-hand, and I’m fairly sure that you didn’t either. I’m confident that it happened though, and in the manner that it was told to me. To blame the implausibility and inaccuracy of a laughably shoddily fabricated account on it being second-hand is preposterous. What he should have done is blame it on an idiot, because there’s definitely one involved there somewhere.

4. The All-New Explanation. The ECB then had another go at explaining the breakage. “Prior had his bat on the ledge where the wall met the window of the dressing room. The bat handle bounced off the wall onto the glass and the glass broke.” Ah, this sounds more plausible (as most things do when there isn’t a magic glove involved). This account of events is far more believable than the first, unless, that is, you’re an exponent of that arcane and little-known (to the ECB) science, physics. Newton’s law states that “to every action there is always an equal and opposite reaction”, and that holds true in this case. In my over thirty years of bat-ownership, I’ve never seen one move of its own accord. I also believe that if England possessed a magic or sentient bat, Straussy would have been using it in the second innings, so we can be certain that this is a conventional cricket bat. This means that for it to have bounced off the wall, there must have been an action to which the bat was reacting. In this case, the only possible explanation is that the England dressing room at Lord’s has a twitching wall; a wall that twitched and caused the bat handle to bounce onto the glass, which then shattered. In the interests of research I googled “Lord’s twitching wall” and found no account of it, which is strange for a cricket ground with such a well-documented history. I smelled a rat.* The second explanation was no better than the first.

5. Just What Are They Trying To Keep From Us? So if neither of those explanations are to be believed, what could possibly have happened in that dressing room that would cause the ECB to go to such lengths to cover it up? Some sort of second Roswell incident? Was Glen Miller in there? The Loch Ness Monster? All the ECB seem to have achieved with their accounts of the incident is to fuel much conjecture, discussion, speculation and publicity.

6. I Have A Theory Of My Own. Some may call it fanciful, some may call it far-fetched, some may call it pie-in-the-sky, but here’s what might – in my mind – have happened. Competitive sportsman Matt Prior, who was, according to an eye-witness, “…cursing and muttering when he walked up the stairs to the pavilion”, furious at being run out, entered the dressing room and angrily hurled his bat to the floor. It then ricocheted off the floor and struck the window, causing it to break. This theory of mine is unsubstantiated, unlike the Twitching Wall theory, which has been endorsed by Andrew Strauss (though he was on the balcony at the time and didn’t see it himself), but it does have some advantages over either of the explanations offered by the ECB: It’s plausible, it’s physically possible, it doesn’t involve a magic glove, it doesn’t involve a twitching wall, and James Avery didn’t say it.

7. The Biggest Mystery Of All. If my theory were, in fact, true, no one would have batted an eyelid at that course of events. No one was badly hurt and Prior apologised and was fined. We would all have put it down to a bit natural frustration and moved on. The ECB seem to have taken what was a very unremarkable incident and have turned it into Windowgate: An epic tale of ineptitude, implausibility, bullshit and chicanery. Quite why they did this is the most baffling thing of all.

*Figuratively.

June 8, 2011
7 Reasons Following Henry Blofeld On Twitter Makes The Mind Boggle

Don’t worry if you’re not on Twitter, you don’t need to be to read this post. Do worry if you don’t like cricket though, you’re an odd one. Henry Blofeld, for those of you who don’t know, is best known as a pigeon-loving, bus-spotting cricket commentator on the most glorious of radio shows, Test Match Special. Less well known are his forays on to the social media platform, Twitter. Now I don’t wish to upset the apple cart by saying he hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet, but occasionally, just occasionally, he puts something into the public domain that clearly shouldn’t be there. Sometimes it’s an erroneous punctuation mark, other times it’s a message clearly meant for someone in particular – he’s just forgotten to include the recipients username. Every time this happens though I can’t help but wonder what he was trying to do or say. Nor can I help wondering what conversation he is in the midst of. To my mind it usually involves pigeons. Being curious I have gone through his Twitter feed and found the last seven tweets that make little sense. After much analysis, I have discovered something that is rather alarming. Prepare yourself for a shock.

The Twitterati Know Him As @blowersh

1. “My Dear Old Thing. Many thanks for sending me news from the ship! Let’s hope we succeed in packing them in!” – 29 Mar 2011. Good golly gosh! Blowers is smuggling pigeons into Britain! He has a man – who he has unsurprisingly dubbed ‘My Dear Old Thing’ – and he has a ship. A ship that no doubt sits somewhere in the middle of the English Channel. And this man on the ship relays news to Blowers as and when he has packed as many pigeons into the vaults as humanly possible. No wonder Blowers doesn’t commentate as much as he used to. He’s far too busy preparing fake British pigeon documents.

2. “.X” – 10th Apr 2011. Interesting. Is this a kiss for a young lady who Blowers is embroiled in an exotic dalliance with? Or does it mean ‘X marks the spot’? Is it code for his man on the ship? Is that a full-stop or is it a dot? Google Maps indicate there is a place called Dot Cottage near Winchelsea Beach in Sussex. So this is code! It means, ‘X marks the dot’. Blowers is unloading illegal pigeons at Dot Cottage!

3. “My Dear Old Thing. I suppose it takes one to know one. Anyway, good to hear from you. Pip pip Blowers.” – 12th Apr 2011. What is one? A cricket commentator? Is this message for Aggers? No, he wouldn’t say that to Aggers. This must be a reply to another pigeon smuggler! I bet it’s Boycott. Blowers’ message contains hints of a brush off. The use of ‘anyway’ signifies that Blowers doesn’t have time for this. He’s got things to do. My only conclusion is that Boycott is also smuggling pigeons and therefore they are fighting for business.

4. “#” – 22nd Apr 2011. A hashtag. But without the tag. So really it’s just a hash. Oh crikey! Someone’s made a terrible hash of things haven’t they? The man on the ship! It must be him. Has he been captured by a ghastly pigeon immigration official at Dot Cottage?!

5. “Yes please! What a terrific idea! Where do you suggest?” – 4th May 2011. Yes! It looks like I was right. Blowers’ man on the ship is now imprisoned. And even worse Dot Cottage is now a no go area. But it looks like someone else has approached Blowers with an offer. An offer Blowers really likes. We can only presume it’s an offer in a similar business and a new arrival port is being sought.

6. “My Dear Old Thing. Just arrived back in London. See you at 1.30 and look so much to meeting you. Pip pip Henry.” – 7th May 2011. Where’s Blowers been? Has he been to the new Dot Cottage or has he been to the printers to get the fake pigeon passports? And who is he meeting at 1.30pm? Is it his new pigeon supplier? The other option really isn’t worth thinking about. The idea of Blowers being caught in a honey trap by the pesky RSPCP (the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Pigeons) fills one with absolute fright. Oh, Blowers, do be careful.

7. “My Dear Old Thing. How’s the new ‘phone coming along? Pip pip.” – 17th May 2011. Odd. I have absolutely no idea how this relates to pigeon smuggling. Have I got this all wrong? Is Blowers actually something worse than a pigeon smuggler? Does he work in customer service for Vodafone?

*Disclaimer: Obviously this is entirely made up. We are not suggesting for one minute that Henry Blofeld or any of his associates are involved in the smuggling of pigeons into Great Britain. Nor are we suggesting he endorses Vodafone. The only thing we know about Blowers for sure is that he is the sound of cricket, a national treasure and he’s still struggling with Twitter. And, to be honest, we wouldn’t have him any other way.

May 17, 2011
7 Reasons Seven Different Teams Won The 2011 Cricket World Cup

Well, that’s it. The Cricket World Cup is over for another four years. And what a World Cup it was. Some incredible performances from some incredible teams producing some incredible results. Or, if you were watching from where I was, rather tiresome once it had entered week 23. The good news is, England won! (Along with India.) (And a few others.)

1. India. The history books will show that it was the once fully-haired Mahendra Singh Dhoni who lifted the cup for one of the host nations. Given that they won the final I suppose there is an argument that they should be declared victors in their own right. But if we do that, aren’t we forgetting the other winners?

2. South Africa. They beat India – the winners – in the group stage. Surely if you beat the winners that makes you the winners?

3. England. They beat the winners of the match against the winners. Surely if you beat the winners of the match against the winners that makes you the winners?

4. Ireland. Ironically, the only people who can’t remember Kevin O’Brien’s incredible innings are the Irish. That’s because they were drinking from 9am. So, in case you have forgotten, let me remind you. Ireland beat England. They beat the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners. That makes them the winners then?

5. West Indies. Well, not quite. Because the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners (otherwise known as Ireland) lost to the West Indies. Which makes them the winners.

6. Pakistan. Or at least they would have been if Pakistan had not beaten the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners, in the quarter finals. And that’s exactly what Pakistan did. Unfortunately for them, this doesn’t make Pakistan the winners.

7. New Zealand. That’s because in the group stage they succumbed to lose to the Kiwis. And if you beat the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners, that means you win. Or at least it does here because we only provide seven reasons. Which is rather unfortunate for Sri Lanka given that they beat the winner of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners of the match against the winners. Mind you, they did lose to the winners. So I guess it doesn’t matter very much.

April 4, 2011
7 Reasons Ireland Didn’t Beat England At Cricket Yesterday
If you’re a cricket lover, or if you’re following the Cricket World Cup (which isn’t really cricket) and you’re English, you might be happily going about your March 2^nd business right now vaguely aware that you seem to have had some sort of strange and improbable nightmare last night. And you’re right. It is still Wednesday and you’ve had a bit of a funny dream. I know I have. Here are seven reasons why.

This didn't happen. You dreamt this.

1.  It’s Too Conflicting. The English, as popular opinion would have it, love an underdog. And it’s true, we do. There’s nothing that the English like to do more than cheer on plucky minnows. We love to see Italy do well in the Six Nations; we love to see Scotland do well at football; we love to see Malta do well at absolutely bloody everything and, had Ireland been playing any other nation yesterday (except Malta), we would have been cheering them on with cries of “Play up, Ireland” and “Hurrah for the Patricks”. But they weren’t playing anyone else. They were playing us. And we were the overdog. This was somewhat conflicting. Because it was nice to see the plucky Irish do well during the cricket, it was heart-warming even, and to someone who fancies that he has some modicum of appreciation for the game, it was enjoyable. But then it slowly began to look like they might actually beat us and suddenly the thin veneer of being a fair-minded Englishman that appreciates a fine performance (even by an opponent) began to dissipate and I realised that I wasn’t quite the sporting chap I imagine myself to be. I discovered that I am, in fact, the sort of Englishman who would happily don a pith helmet and mow down colonials with a Gatling gun if it meant a victory in war or sport for dear old Blighty. No one needs to find that out about themselves when they’re trying to enjoy the cricket. I started the match as a good, upright, moral chap and finished it as a cruel, bloodthirsty, avaricious monster. Albeit one with a nice hat. But this can’t really have happened, because I’m certain that, at heart, I’m a thoroughly nice chap.

2.  The Irish Don’t Even Play Cricket. I know about Irish sport; I’ve seen it. There are essentially three major sports there. They play football, like we do, but with muddier pitches. They play rugby, like we do, but with muddier pitches. And they play Gaelic-bloody-hurleyball-thing – a sport I once saw on Channel Four at three o’clock one morning in 1997 – which is essentially a mass-brawl in the mud which may or may not have sticks and a ball. And a net.   None of those things even remotely resemble cricket, which is a game played in England, where children are given bats, balls and club ties at birth and spend almost every minute of every childhood summer – except when they are reluctantly dragged away to a tartan picnic blanket and force-fed cucumber sandwiches, orange squash and those Mr Kipling cakes that resemble gaudily coloured plasticine and make your teeth hurt – playing the game of cricket. And then when we grow up many of us carry on doing exactly the same thing, but with Pimm’s instead of the squash and if we’re very lucky, picnic sex. Though the infernal sodding cakes are still there. We have cricket, if not in our blood, then certainly in our souls and in our psyche, it’s a part of our national identity. We are prepared to play cricket from birth, it shouldn’t be possible to just to turn up with a horse and beat us at it. Which is good, because it didn’t happen.

3.  There Was A Horse. I’m not going to knock Kevin O’Brien’s knock*. What he did yesterday was superb. He went out to bat and did what every young boy (and grown man and woman and just about everyone who’s ever had any sporting ambition/interest/has even seen a blade of grass) has ever dreamed of doing: He took a game by the scruff of the neck and improbably – almost impossibly – won it single-handedly, against the odds. It was amazing. He was magnificent. Unlike Irish people, however, I have seen Kevin O’Brien play before, and I know this. He’s essentially a lumbering big, ginger horse in a cricket uniform. Of course he’s going to be able to slog the ball around on a flat pitch, he could probably hit balls to the moon. What we needed to counteract him was a backfiring car. They always put horses off what they’re doing, I’ve seen black and white films and read Edwardian novels, and I know of what I speak. It’s just not possible that England’s enormous – and legendarily meticulous – backroom staff consisting of hordes of people with laptops that studied P.E. at university didn’t consider this tactic, not possible at all. As the saying goes: If you fail to prepare, you prepare to get spanked around the ground by a big ginger man-horse. And that’s what happened…er…didn’t happen.

4.  It Isn’t Mathematically Possible. The Ireland cricket team represents both Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. So England were playing two countries out there yesterday, and you might think that would put England (us) at a disadvantage but wait! The acronym ECB is short for The England and Wales (and some South Africans) Cricket Board, so Irelands two nations were in fact playing our three nations, all of whom are individually better at cricket than them. It’s not mathematically possible that they should have won, or geographically or historically. It’s just not possible at all, so it can’t have happened.

5.  Available Talent. That Ireland don’t have any sort of cricketing pedigree is self-evident. But that’s not to say that Ireland is completely lacking any cricketing talent. That would be crass and simplistic. Because there is Irish cricketing talent out there. For there is a man born in Dublin who would get into just about any one day cricket team in the world; a man who won three senior cup titles for Catholic University School; a man who has a ODI batting average of 38.03; a man whose batting shimmers with inventiveness and audacity; a man whose bold stroke-play and natural ease with a bat is admired the world over. And that Irishman’s name is Eoin Morgan and he plays for fecking England!!!! Their best player doesn’t even play for them! He plays for us, so they can’t have won at all.

6.  The Reaction. Do you know what the reaction in England to the Irish victory was last night? From people that don’t follow cricket as closely as you or I, people with children and lives and things, people that the news was only slowly filtering to by yesterday evening? The ones that I spoke to all reacted in exactly the same way with the same question. They asked, “Do the Irish even have a cricket team?” Every last one of them asked this. And in Ireland, I have no doubt that they were all asking, “Do we even have a cricket team?” I had to explain this defeat to a Frenchman last night – A MAN FROM FRANCE – and do you know what his first question was? I’ll tell you. It was, “Do ze Irish even ‘ave a cricket team?”   I can’t begin to tell you how painful this conversation was. It was several minutes before I was able to turn the conversation to the efficacy of the Maginot Line. Several long minutes. Anyway, the upshot of all this is that we were playing a team yesterday that doesn’t exist. And they beat us.

7.  It’s So Weird I Can Only Have Dreamt It. I won’t bore you with all of the details, but it’s fair to say that yesterday was a fairly strange day for me. Here are just some of the things that actually happened to me:
- I purchased Vaseline for my cat.
- I discussed the Ashes with a Frenchman.
- I witnessed a man request “A pint of the lager you have that’s most like Stella” at a bar.
- An Irish team that doesn’t exist beat England at Cricket with an orange horse.
So there you go. All of the available evidence is there and it points to only one thing: That yesterday was a really weird dream that didn’t actually happen. Any moment now I’m going to wake up and it’ll be March 2^nd again and at some point later on today I’m going to listen to England thump Ireland at cricket. It’s going to be great. I can’t wait.

*That’s the first knock-knock joke we’ve ever done at 7 Reasons.**

**The second one will be better.
March 3, 2011
7 Reasons Robert George Dylan Willis MBE Scares Me

Last week we gave you seven compelling reasons not to watch the Cricket World Cup. How many of you listened to us? Probably not many. And I don’t blame you. I mean, I didn’t even listen to myself. I’ve watched every game so far. But that’s not because I am addicted to the sport, it’s because it constitutes research. It was suggested by Marc that we could write about the Cricket World Cup every Friday. It wasn’t a bad idea – every time we write about cricket we send shockwaves through India. So I agreed. Apart from the dodgy fielding, the one-sided nature of the games and the sparse crowds, the one constant has been former England paceman, Bob Willis. For seven days now he has been sat on the red sofa at Sky Sports scaring the hell out of me. Here’s why:

Don’t Let The Smile Fool You. The Real Bob Willis Never Smiles.

1. Focus. It’s a frightening sight. When the producer whispers, ‘Camera one Mr Willis’, in Bob’s ear, the robotic state is initiated. His head turns sharply to the camera. Like a Tyrannosaurus Rex who has just spotted his prey, Bob doesn’t even…

2. Blink. His eyes are wide as he stares down the camera lens. Deep, deep, deep into your lounge goes his glare. Deep, deep, deep into your soul. And then, his lips begin to move. In his…

3. Monotone voice, his monologue begins. His ability to maintain an unwavering pitch for so long is a remarkable feat of endurance. Though for a robotic devil fairly standard I imagine. On and on he drones. No matter whether he is impressed or furious, it’s the same tone. It’s hypnotic in its powers. I know what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to put me to…

4. Sleep. He wants my soul. He wants to sell it on eBay. “I must stay awake,” I tell myself. “Bob Willis must not be allowed to submit a fake bid for my soul in oder to bump up the price.” My eyelids are heavy, I try and reach for the remote control but I am not not going to make it. I’m drifting! I’m drifting! Then, suddenly, a saving grace. The shot zooms out. The vision of Robert Croft and Michael Holding is momentary relief. But then I notice the…

5. Giant of a man to their right. Bob Willis is huge! He looks like the BFG sitting on that Sky Sports sofa. I know he’s a giant because his knees are higher than his coccyx. He looks comfortable in his own uncomfortableness. This only scares me more. I can’t help but imagine him standing up. His head would be on the second floor. It’s the only time I hunger for a zoomed-in shot of Bob’s face. I don’t hunger for long, the producer adheres to my cries for mercy. Round two begins. He still wants my soul. I’m immediately drawn to his…

6. Lips. Not in a sexual way. In the way I would watch a goldfish open and close his mouth. And then I actually start listening to what he is saying. And I find myself agreeing with him. Bob is right. You just can’t afford to make that kind of mistake at this level. Oh good gracious me! Bob Willis is making…

7. Sense. And this is the scariest thing of all. Already this year I have found myself agreeing with Boycott. What is happening to me? Am I becoming their bitch?

February 25, 2011
7 Reasons Not to Watch The Cricket World Cup

It’s Friday the 18th of February, 2011, and after all the build-up and anticipation, the Cricket World Cup starts today. As you can probably imagine, we’re very excited about that here at 7 Reasons and…well, you will have to imagine that, because we’re not. Here are 7 Reasons not to watch the bloody thing.

1. Australia. It’s not so much how good Australia are – they aren’t – it’s more whether anyone can be bothered to beat them. In 1999, South Africa should have beaten them in the semi-final, but Lance Klusener lost the plot and with it the match. And as for the final, well Pakistan didn’t turn up for it and were comprehensively thumped. In 2003, England should have beaten them in the final group game, but decided to let Andy Bichel have his one and only great day in an Aussie shirt and in doing so managed to lose from an impossible position. And as for the final, well India did turn up, but only to watch Sourav Ganguly toss the coin. After that they were comprehensively thumped. In 2007, well, only Australia turned up. They comprehensively thumped everyone. Which leads us to today. Or tomorrow. The 2011 World Cup promises to be the best yet. I reckon you could make strong arguments for six teams winning it. But that would be futile wouldn’t it? Because the script has long been written. Thumpings of the most comprehensive kind shall soon be scattered across the sub-continent. What’s the point in watching that?

2. Length. Now we love our cricket, but this thing goes on for a month and a half. Just imagine what you could get done in a month and a half if you weren’t watching the cricket. You could fly around the world 40 times. You could cook everything in Delia’s Complete Cookery Course. Twice. You could solve the international sudoku problem. You could build a tree house, dismantle it and build it again. You could even write us a guest post. By not watching the cricket World Cup you could achieve so much. The World Cup is your oyster.

3. Timing. I’m in England and the Cricket World Cup is not. It’s taking place far away, over the sea. But I’ve looked at the fixture list and, apart from the odd game that starts at 4am, the times of the matches actually seem reasonable. For the most part, they seem to be occurring during working hours. During working hours!? What’s the bloody point in that? Where’s my epic struggle to stay awake during matches? Where’s my opportunity to complain, bleary-eyed, the day after an important match, to all and sundry that the World Cup is going to kill me? You know how to spot a fellow cricket aficionado while England are on tour? You’ll hear them yawning and/or snoring and find them slumped on their desks/a bus seat/your left shoulder of an afternoon. Now, throughout the tournament, confused England fans will spend their time mistakenly bothering the exhausted parents of new-born children to discuss the batting of Kevin Pietersen, the bowling of Graeme Swann or the point of Billy Bowden. That’s no fun for anyone. Especially for cricket fans who’ll end up learning all sorts of nonsense about nappies and breast-pumps that they’d really rather not hear about. If watching cricket isn’t a challenge, it’s just not as good.

4. It’s Just Not Cricket. Is the ball red? No. Are the kits tasteful and pleasing to the eye? No. Are some of the spectators grey, dusty and possibly suffering from rigor mortis? No. Can each match last for an entire working week? No. Are England any good at it? No. In that case, it isn’t cricket at all; it’s merely baseball for the civilised.

5. National Anthems. I do love a good rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’. But only if it’s at Twickenham or I’m in the shower. Only in these environments do people actually appear as if they want to sing. Anthems just don’t seem to work at cricket. I feel a bit awkward watching them. It’s a bit like chapel at school. No one really wants to be there. The problem is that when the anthems are over, half the players go back to the changing rooms to play cards while the rest hang around for ten minutes until the Umpires check to see if the light is okay. By which time the parts of you that were pumped up are now deflated. And that’s when Straussy loses his off-stump. So, unless we are sadists we should not be watching.

6. Because You Support England. And by “you support England”, what I mean is that I support England; the surest route to heartbreak and despair in all of international sport (outside of betting on Audley Harrison or being Jermaine Jenas). I was pushing my luck by watching the Ashes, so watching the Cricket World Cup can only lead to disillusionment and despondency. Much better to avoid it and stick to watching films about the war. Not the second Anglo-Dutch War, obviously, that would be equally depressing.

The 2011 World Cup Cricket trophy pictured on Horsell Common.

7. It’s Misleading. It’s called the World Cup. But I’ve seen the trophy and it doesn’t resemble a cup in the least. It looks like a Martian tripod from H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds standing in the classical ballet stance, en pointe. Can you drink tea from it? No. Can it perform a quick pas de bourrée before killing you with its heat-ray? Undoubtedly. So it’s not the Cricket World Cup at all. It’s the Cricket World Martian Ballet Tripod. If they’d called it that, more people would be watching. And if they had a few of those at the stadia, I would watch.

February 18, 2011