Tag: DOOR

Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why You Should Never Lick A Door Handle

Remember Ewan MacDougal of Furniture Fortress and Window Blinds as Christmas Presents fame? Well he’s back. And this time he’s not alone. Joining him on the 7 Reasons sofa is article co-author Nicola Winters. Oh, and a lot of Japanese girls with their tongues attached to door handles. We’ll leave Ewan and Nicola to explain why.

***

There are many trends, fashions and fads that come and go (most are completely alien to me) but yet they get the whole world talking. Some trends catch on, some don’t and some simply shouldn’t! You can often predict the next big trend by looking at Japanese culture. For a long time the Japanese have been number one for innovation, number one for technology and most defiantly number one for alternative fashion. However, there is a new phenomenon sweeping Japan that I certainly hope is not a sign of things to come at home. The bizzare new fetish where girls are licking door handles! Usually I’m all for diversifying culture, but this is one innovation that I really hope does not catch on at home. Call me a hygiene freak if you must, but I certainly don’t want to find myself trapped in a room, too scared to open the door for fear that it’s been coated with some one else’s saliva. So, in an attempt to prevent this trend spreading, here are seven reasons why you should just say no to licking door knobs.

1. Door Handles Aren’t Always That Clean. A handle is not just an interior design accessory; their primary purpose is to be functional tools, used to open and close doors for anyone (and everyone) who wish to enter or exit. The average handle must have been touched by countless people, all with different standards of personal hygiene. In almost no time at all germs will have gathered. Do you really want to be licking these germs? What if someone else has licked this handle before you? How many germs will it be home to then? I have a really ugly friend who has glandular fever and loves Japanese trends, what if he’s licked the handle first?

2. It’s Just Plain Weird! How many times have you previously found yourself licking door handles? How many times have you been out and about, shopping, picking the kids up from school or walking the dog and got the urge to lick a door handle? What was that? Never? No of course you haven’t. Do you want to know why? Because it’s weird! If you had previously witnessed this type of behaviour on a street near you then you’d be the first person to call the psychiatric specialist and get them off the streets immediately! So don’t think that just because the “cool” Japanese people have started doing it, it’s suddenly stopped being weird. Because it hasn’t!

3. There’s Better Things To Lick. Seriously, door handles? For hundreds of years confectionery professionals have strived long and hard to manufacturer tasty, sweet, juicy and mouth-watering treats to suck on. Surely these hours have not been wasted? Surely in all this time they must have developed at least one thing you would prefer to lick than a door handle.

4. You Could Strain Your Back. Maybe this is a sign that I’m getting old, but surely you’d agree the act of actually bending down to participate in door knob licking is a strenuous process in itself. The risk of pulling, straining or (in more serious cases) breaking the back has to be pretty high. Even if you are just a casual licker it only takes one bad kneeling position and you could ruin your licking-things career for ever. Do you really want a door handle to be the last thing you lick? If you’re going to take the risk, there must be other things out there better licked.

5. You’ll Restrict Others Access. Don’t be selfish. Whilst you are indulging in a little handle love from one side of the door, there could be an extremely important person on the other side. An extremely important person trying to get to an extremely important meeting. If they have to wait until you’re done satisfying yourself, think of all the important things they could miss. Think what this could mean for the world! What if they were a diplomat that had finally come up with a plan that could lead to world peace and they missed the world peace summit because of you? Do you want that on your conscience?

6. You Could Get A Bump On The Head. What if said important person didn’t wait? What if their important thing was so important they just had to push through? Getting hit in the head with a door, whilst its handle is in your mouth, with your tongue wrapped around it, does not sound like a pleasant experience.

7. You Could Be A Fire Hazard. When I was a child, my Japanese mother was tragically killed in a fire when she could not leave a burning building because someone was taking too long to finish licking the door handle of the fire exit. It was extremely sad and left me and my six siblings homeless and living on the streets only able to survive by selling our organs on the black market. It was an horrific existence and it was all because of door handle licking.*

So, take a moment before jumping on this bandwagon. Stop before resorting to this crazy behaviour simply to ‘fit in’. Think about this logically and ask yourself, “Do I really need to lick this door handle?” The answer, surprisingly, will almost always be ‘NO’.

*Reason 7 is entirely a lie, but I was hoping for the sympathy vote.

March 1, 2012
7 Reasons That I’ve Been Baffled By A Doormat

Okay, I’ve been really confused. I’ve had a tricky problem that’s been plaguing me for the past two days that I think I’ve finally solved but it’s been quite a journey. It all started with a new arrival*. A doormat. I bought it to go inside the front door in the 3’ x 3’ space that, if I were grand, I’d refer to as my entrance hall or vestibule. As it is, I’ve really never referred to that space before, I just know it as the-area-behind-the-front-door or occasionally the-area-in-front-of-the-world. Anyway, I digress. Below these words and above some more is a picture of the doormat. Here are seven reasons that it’s been baffling me.

1. Perspective. Yesterday morning, I pulled the mat from its bag and strode to the front door. I had blithely supposed that I would be able to place the doormat inside the door and walk away to do something else. Something important. Something interesting. But as I went to place the mat on the floor I felt troubled. The problem was that the mat has a picture on it. That means that it’s no mere utilitarian home accessory. It’s also art. Not high-art, admittedly. It’s not Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa or Klimpt’s Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, which is fortunate as they probably wouldn’t fare well hanging on the floor in my hallway, and I would probably soon tire of the tourists. But it’s still art. And art’s there to be contemplated and enjoyed, to enhance an environment and provide stimulation for those that inhabit the same space. Essentially, in this case, I realised that when I looked at the owls, I wanted them not to be upside down.

2. But That Would Be Unwelcoming. Surely the doormat should face outward. To welcome guests. To make a nice first impression. What would we be saying by having the mat face inward? That we’re selfish people that want the owls the right way up for ourselves and care not a whit for the feelings of others? That would make us appear distinctly unwelcoming. You can’t greet people with upside down owls. It’s a question of doormat etiquette. Doormatiquette.

3. But! Does an outward facing mat welcome guests though? Because when the guests come into the house – and they sometimes do, we’re sociable people that don’t bite – the owls would be upside down. So then everybody would be looking at the owls the wrong way up. Both guests and residents. No one would win.

4. Furthermore! Having an outward facing mat would send another message. An unwelcoming message. And that message is Stop! Come no further. Being in the house is an anti climax. Beyond this point, the owls are upside down. If you stay outside it’s better. These people have put this thing here to make sure you stand on their doorstep and come no further. I was beginning to realise that placing a doormat was more complicated than I thought it was going to be.

5. A Compromise? Okay, so there was no way I could have the doormat facing inward or outward. But could I compromise? Turning the doormat sideways would seem to be a fair thing to do, but wait?! A sideways doormat! That would be weird. If someone opened a front door to you and their doormat was sideways you’d think they were barmy. You’d assume that they were a gibbering harebrain that spent their nights pointing at the moon and their days pointing at the space the moon had been the previous night, pausing only to laugh hysterically at bicycles. Have you ever been in the house of anyone with a sideways doormat? No. Of course not. People that have been in the houses of people with sideways doormats are probably still there tied down in the cellar or imprisoned in the shed, being forced to eat balloons and comb a jelly or some equally bizarre and hideous fate. The sideways doormat compromise was out.

6. Brainstorming. By this point, I realised I needed help**. I decided to ask Twitter. Carrying the doormat over to the computer, I tweeted my dilemma. With help from @kittyQ, @davidofyork, @kateypotatey, @jonesyinc1 and @amazingzeesh (all lovely tweeters) I brainstormed the problem. It was difficult and there was no real consensus. The nearest we got to a solution was @kateypotatey’s idea of hanging the doormat on the wall and putting it down facing outward only when anyone knocked on the door. But that raised a further problem. What would we do when the guests came in? Wait for them to cross the threshold and then hang the doormat up on the wall? That would make us look odd. Not sideways-doormat-odd, but still a teensy bit weird. And if we didn’t hang it back on the wall we’d all be looking at upside down owls again. Unless I turned the mat to face inward after they came in but that would appear strange too. And what if more guests arrived while existing guests were there? What if we had a party? Should my wife be responsible for making drinks and handing out nibbles while I take charge of rotating the doormat and greeting people? That doesn’t sound like much of a party to me. Or a picnic. The capacity for it all to go horribly wrong would be endless. I felt dizzy just thinking about it. I decided to sleep on it.

7. And Sleep Helped. This morning, when I woke I had an idea. I walked downstairs and turned the doormat upside down. The doormat would be ostensibly plain and no one would get to see the owls, but I would be able to peek at them whenever I liked. We’d have secret owls. But that felt ungenerous and it bothered me for most of the day. This evening, however, I did solve the problem. What I need to do is position the mat picture side up, facing outwards, and to convince myself and everyone that comes into the house that it’s a picture of three owls standing on their heads. I also need to make them forget that I’ve convinced them of that when they leave. What I need is a live-in hypnotist. Anyone know one?

*Cue angry mob.

**And I sense that many people might agree with me.

October 4, 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 That You Shouldn’t Knock on the Front Door When I’m in the Bath

Yesterday, while I was bathing, someone knocked on the front door. They shouldn’t have. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Doubt. I’m lying in the bath. I’m wet. I’m not about to get up to answer the door, it’ll be bloody cold standing on the doorstep with only a towel around my waist and five chest hairs to keep me warm, so of course I’m going to lie here. But what if it’s important? What if there’s a gas leak and they’ve come to alert me? What if the house next door is on fire? What if the police have come to warn me that there’s an axe-murderer on the loose?

2. Foreboding. What if it is the axe-murderer? I’m alone in the house with my cat. An axe-murderer wouldn’t be satisfied with hacking the cat to death, that wouldn’t even be murder. That would be animal cruelty. That would probably be an assault to the dignity of the axe-murderer: It would be a demotion from axe-murderer to cruel man (with axe). He’d be a laughing stock. He would be shunned by the other axe-murderers. That would never do.

3. Fear. What if he’s the sort of axe-murderer who doesn’t want to chop me into a barely identifiable pulp of blood, flesh and sinew right away? What if he’s the kind that’s on the run and wants somewhere to hide for a while; menacing my cat with his axe in the living room while I tell the police at the door that I haven’t seen anyone and that I’m alone in the house? I don’t want one of those. It’ll be hours before my wife comes home and I can hide behind her. Hours.

4. Terror. What if he needs to hide out for a couple of days? What in the hell would we feed him? We’ve had snow here for two weeks and the shops haven’t had much in; all we would have to offer him are vast quantities of limoncello and Twiglets. And I doubt that axe-murderers even like Twiglets. After all, I bloody love Twiglets and I’m the total opposite of an axe-murderer; I’m a no-axed-not-murderer, or as we’re more commonly known, a victim. So, the axe-murderer will have lots to drink, but nothing to eat. So he’ll be drunk, and he’ll be cross. He’ll be a drunken, angry, axe-murderer which, I rather suspect, is the worst sort.

5. Twiglets. What if he does like Twiglets? Because these aren’t just any Twiglets. Oh no. These are the Christmas Twiglets. The Twiglets that I’m not allowed to touch. The Twiglets that no one is allowed to touch, or even gaze directly at for a prolonged period. Not until Christmas Twiglet season begins at 9pm on the 24th of December. I’ve made that mistake before and there were consequences. And now I know better than to breach the sanctity of the Christmas Twiglets. In fact, I seem to remember that, following the incident that has come to be known as Christmas-Twiglet-gate, my wife told me that if I ever ate the Christmas Twiglets again (outside of the clearly defined time-frame) that she would kill me. So that’s it. It’s Hobson’s bloody choice. If the axe-murderer likes Twiglets I can either tell him he can’t have any and he’ll kill me with an axe, or I can let him have them and my wife will kill me without an axe (with a handbag probably, or her soup). Basically, I’m fucked.

6. Reflection. When was the last time I saw an axe-murderer? I haven’t seen any for ages. I don’t think I’ve seen one since The Shining. There used to be loads of them. Absolutely bloody loads, but their numbers seem to have declined. They seem to have had some sort of heyday in the late 1940s when they were menacing Fred MacMurray and Ida Lupino in a remote California farmhouse most weekends, and then their numbers appear to have dwindled away to nothing. So, in all probability, it wasn’t an axe-murderer that knocked on my door about sixty minutes ago.

7. Resolution. My fingers are wrinkly, I’m cold, and my left knee has literally turned blue. I have other things to do. I’m supposed to be writing tomorrow’s 7 Reasons piece. I’m not even supposed to be thinking about the Christmas Twiglets. I’m not allowed to do that until the 22nd. You’ve just stolen an hour of my life and caused me think dangerous thoughts and turned my knee a funny colour (somewhere between cobalt and Prussian blue). Damn you, whoever you are/were. Next time, I’m coming down in my towel. To my death, probably.

December 9, 2010
7 Reasons That The Westbourne Bank Protest Was Stupid

In Britain, it’s often said that we’re not very good at protesting, and we’re always compared unfavourably with the French in that regard. But now, public protest in the UK has reached an all-time low because, last weekend, several men in Dorset bricked up the door of their local bank in what they claimed was a, “…protest against the reluctance of banks to lend money to small firms”. Here are seven reasons that their protest was stupid.

1. They Went To The Wrong Bank. The protesters wanted to brick up the door of the Westbourne branch of Natwest Bank because it had refused the group’s ringleader, Cameron Hope, a business loan. But, when they arrived at the Natwest, the police were nearby, so the group decided to brick up the door of a different bank instead. Barclays. Now, if I do something that irritates my wife involving…ooh…I don’t know…umm…a bicycle, for example, and I’m not there when she finds out about it – or I’m standing near the police – I wouldn’t expect her to go and yell at a different man. Because that would be crazy. And irrational. And yes, it would be much better if she did that, but that’s not the point. Bricking up the door of a bank that they didn’t have a legitimate grievance with is just mad. And counter-productive.

2. Prudence. Okay, so the bank turned down Cameron Hope’s loan application. What should he do? Scrimp and save, perhaps. Look at alternate ways of raising capital, or go to a different bank. I’m not a businessman, but I wouldn’t choose to demonstrate my financial acumen and creditworthiness to another bank by frittering my money away on costly building materials and then use them to construct a monument to my own profligacy on their doorstep. Because that’s not going to help. And it’s a lot of effort. He could have achieved the same effect by setting fire to twenty pound notes in front of the bank manager instead. Far less trouble.

3. Put Simply. The more money the bank has, the more they’ll lend, making it more likely that you’ll get a loan. Conversely: The less money the bank has, the less they’ll lend, making it less likely that you’ll get a loan. So if you brick the door of the bank up, customers can’t take their money to the bank, and then the bank can’t lend it to you. I realise that this is a highly simplistic, microeconomic description of banking, but I’m addressing it thus, to the protesters because of…

4. The Quote. The quote tells us that the protesters don’t understand how banking works at all, because one of the group stated to journalists, “You go into a bank and there’s nothing there, the bank’s open but the safe is shut.” This is his summary of his grievance with the banking system; and it doesn’t really bear much scrutiny. Because of course there’s nothing there. What does this man expect to find in a bank? Displays of money? Shelf upon shelf of alluringly-arrayed notes and enticing floor-displays brimming over with a boundless abundance of shimmering coins? And of course the safe is shut. It’s a safe. That’s its job. If the bloody things weren’t meant to be shut they’d be called something different. They’d be called unsafes. Or vulnerables.

5. Helping The Bank. The protesters bricked up the door of the bank on a Sunday: A day when all banks are closed. So this had no effect on the bank’s ability to trade. In fact, one of the major obsessions and expenses of any bank is security, and by bricking up the door – and thereby making it more difficult for robbers to enter the premises – the protesters actually helped the bank. Not to mention that their protest also brought the police along to stand outside in hi-vis jackets, which probably made the bank as safe as it’s ever been. And all at no extra cost to the bank. What are the protesters going to do next, try to bring down the Conservative party by voting for them?

6. Consequences. Though the protest didn’t have any serious consequences, it could well have done. The protesters could have endangered the nation’s economy. By bricking up the door of the bank, they made it likely that employees would have to enter and exit the premises via the windows. And, as history teaches us, bankers jumping out of windows is one of the worst economic indicators that there is. Worse even than Alistair Darling’s eyebrows. It’s the sort of thing that, if the media get hold of the footage, can shatter fragile economic confidence.

7. Achievement. As a protest against banking it doesn’t appear to have accomplished anything. I was in the centre of a city yesterday, and banking appeared to be going on pretty much unhindered by the protest. People in polyester uniforms were sitting around near potted plants in waist-high partitioned areas looking depressed, as usual. The cash machine outside was covered in the remnants of a McDonald’s milkshake, as usual. I wanted to thump over 90% of the people in the queue, as usual; even myself. So the protest has had no discernible effect on banking. Obviously, the protest brought an awful lot of free publicity for the property developer behind it, but that wasn’t the point. Because this was a protest against banking, right? And not some sort of tawdry self-serving publicity stunt?

September 30, 2010
7 Reasons to Paint Your Front Door Orange

1. Be unique. No one has an orange front door. Have you ever seen one? No, nobody has. Having an orange front door would mark you out as an individual – like wearing a pointy-hat or carrying a piano-accordion, but less embarrassing.

2. Annoy the neighbours. Painting your front door orange would annoy your neighbours. Their houses would be completely overshadowed by your own, which would become the dominant feature of your street. When giving directions to their own home, your neighbours would have to refer to yours, “You can’t miss it, it’s two houses down from the one with the orange door…”. They would seethe, inwardly, every time they mentioned it, and perhaps frown too.

3. View. Your house would have the best view of your street, as it would be the only one that you definitely wouldn’t be able to see the orange door from.

4. Visibility. Have you ever got drunk and become lost on the way home? I have. Not totally lost – I’m at home now, but lost enough to find myself on the other side of town at 5am heading in the wrong direction – possibly towards Budapest. With an orange door you’ll at least have a fighting chance: If you are able to find your street, you’ll be able to find your house.

5. Friends. It won’t just be you that can find your house. Your friends will be able to find it more easily too. They’ll come and visit more often. The exasperatedly-intoned phrase “I know it’s one of the ones down here on the left” would be heard no more and would probably be replaced with the phrase “Good god! There it is”. You’ll be more popular.

6. Drunk people. It’s a well known fact that alcohol lowers inhibitions, so your curiously coloured door would probably attract the attention of gregarious drunk people. This is great, as drunk people can be fun. They’re often generous and happy to share their tipple of choice with others, usually after declaring their undying love and friendship. So now your friends will come and see you regularly, and drunk people will visit you too, probably bringing beer with them. That’s a party. Woohoo!

Dutch People

7. Holland. It’s a well known fact that Dutch people are crazy about the colour orange, so you’d probably be inundated with your local Dutch population. Dutch people are fantastic. They’re tall, which is more space-efficient than being fat, and they speak many languages, making them brilliant at communicating with your friends and the drunk people at your constant house-party. Also, if the national stereotype is even remotely true, they will probably have drugs with them. And pornography. So, with the booze, the drugs, the drink and the porn, you’ll soon find that you aren’t just having a party, you’re having an orgy. In fact, you’re a bit like Hugh bloody Hefner*! And all because you painted your front door orange.

*Our legal team has asked us to point out that Hugh bloody Hefner does not have an orange door.

March 9, 2010
7 Reasons To Like Doors

1. The bedroom door. No matter what age you are, whether you share it or are its sole occupant, your bedroom is a private place to do private things. Whether you are a teenage boy practising your faces in the mirror, a thirty year old man playing World of Warcraft on his computer or a fully grown woman singing-along into her hairbrush, your privacy is protected by the door. If it weren’t for the door your siblings, parents, children, housemates and curious pets would be free to spectate on, or join in with, your bedroom activities. Hurrah for the bedroom door.

2. The bedroom door. If there were no doors then your parents’ bedroom would be open. There is nothing that happens in there that you should have to witness. Nothing. Not ever. Never. No.

3. Locks. If there were no doors, there would be no door-locks. They deter burglars, vandals, squatters and perverts from entering your house. Also, the ability to retain keys is what separates us from the animals, and from my friend Rachel.

4. Slamming. Slamming the door on your way out is like adding an exclamation-mark to a furious exit; without doors you’d have to shout “pow” or kick the wall. This wouldn’t be as effective and you might feel silly.

5. The Doors. Without doors, The Doors would have been called The, which would have been rubbish. It would also have confused fans of The The – and me.

6. Knocking. If there were no front doors, there would be nothing for the pizza-delivery-man to knock on and many Americans would starve to death…eventually.

7. The wardrobe door. If there were no doors, your wardrobe would be open and the contents would be visible. Is there a more effective way to repel a new lover than letting them glimpse the saggy jogging-bottoms and moth-eaten, bobbly cardigan that you wear around the house? Without the wardrobe door, your new suitor would be able to see the future and you would be single forever.

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November 13, 2009