Tag: fail

Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why It’s Still A Great Idea To Pass Your Driving Test

The recession seems to be driving many of the UK’s learner drivers off the road. A recent news item carried by the BBC reported that the number of 17 to 22-year-olds undergoing a driving test has dropped by 19 per cent over the last seven years. In the spirit of encouraging the much-beleaguered motoring industry, here is a list of seven good reasons why taking and passing your driving test is still a highly advantageous thing to do.

via http://www.flickr.com/photos/kenjonbro/6406750887/

1. Confidence. Former Prime minister Margaret Thatcher was once quoted as saying, “Any man who rides a bus to work after the age of 30 can count himself as a failure in life.” While the quote is very harsh, it is certainly true that driving can give you confidence. Pass your test and you can feel proud that you have a great skill under your belt. And when the L-Plates come off you have the option of taking the car or catching a bus into work without Mrs Thatcher’s cruel words ringing in your ears.

2. Career Opportunities. Many jobs – taxi driving, breakdown recovery and chauffeuring included – can only be done by a person with a good, clean driving licence. Stating that you can drive looks great on your CV and, with less people taking their driving test, there could soon be a gap in the market for applicants who can drive. See taking your driving test as an investment – something which could one day land you a dream job.

3. Comfort. Have you ever been waiting for a bus on a rainy day when a car has driven past and splashed you with a puddle? Trust me; it’s a feeling which makes you feel like you’ve had sand kicked in your face. To travel by public transport is to throw yourself at the mercy of the elements. When you drive your own vehicle you can be the master of your own fate and have your own personal space. Anyone who has been on a bus with an empty lager can rolling down the aisle while passengers play loud music or engage in loud phone conversations knows they are not truly in control of their environment the way they are in their own car.

4. Safety. It’s a general rule of thumb that the longer you spend behind the wheel the better you will be as a driver. The sooner you pass your test the sooner you will become a more skilled, and safe, driver.

5. Options. Driving gives you more options. You don’t have to worry about catching that last bus home. You can go for a drive to a friend’s house on Christmas Day when there is no public transport in operation. And you can visit an out-of-town IKEA store without having to worry about lugging home flat-pack furniture. You can also have the option of being generous with your driving time – giving lifts to family and loved ones who bestowed the same favour on you before you learned to drive.

6. Rites Of Passage. Passing your driving test is a modern rite of passage. Ripping up your L-Plates is just a great feeling – like the moment when you discard your water-wings or take the stabilisers off your first bike. Even if you can’t afford to drive as soon as you pass your test, it’s a great skill to have up your sleeve.

7. Driving For Pleasure. Driving for pleasure might seem like a strange activity. Surely only High School students in American films cruise around the streets for fun with no destination in mind? It’s about time the forgotten art of driving for the sake of enjoyment is revived. So wind down the sunroof, head out on to a country road and get in touch with one of modern life’s most under-rated pleasures.

Author Bio: James Christie writes for breakdown cover company – GEM Motoring Assist.

March 22, 2012
7 Reasons That This Is The Greatest Bus Service Ever

Great news for 7 Reasons readers that are also fans of buses! For the third time in our history, we’re writing a bus-related piece featuring – you guessed it – buses!   The reason for this is simple; as reported today, by various news organisations, a brilliant and ground-breaking innovation in the field of public transport has occurred in, of all places Wiltshire (and Hampshire) where residents of Winterslow can now avail themselves of what is effectively a one-way bus service to Andover, on weekdays and weekends. It does go in the other direction too, but the return service departs before the outbound service arrives. Here are seven reasons that this is a brilliant idea.

Not actual 87 bus.

1. It Utilizes Underused Resources. At night, once buses have stopped running, bus stops stand idle and unpopulated, making them ideal targets for ne’er-do-wells, rapscallions and vandals. Not in Andover though. With the new one-way timetable, bus stops in Andover will be used outside of peak periods, in fact, all through the night, as bus-users from Winterslow use them to shelter from the elements as they wait until the next day to return home from their visits to WH Smith and Poundland. The new timetable brilliantly uses passengers from Winterslow as a free security force to protect Andover’s bus stops from vandalism at night. A free security force. Ingenious.

2. It’s Innovative. It really is. The history of Britain is peppered with examples of blue-sky, outside-of-the-box, joined-up-thinking and ground-breaking innovation and no one can say that this bus timetable isn’t innovative. A bus that only goes one way. It’s revolutionary! Or at least it would be, if it went full-circle and returned from whence it departed. But it doesn’t. It is, however, definitely an innovation. A one-way bus! A bus that takes you somewhere and then abandons you there. Have you ever been on one of those before? No, I don’t suppose you have.

3. It Encourages Further Innovation. Not only is the one-way bus to Andover innovative, it encourages further innovation. Because for great creative and inventive thinking to occur, three things are required: Time, will and an environment conducive to uninterrupted thought. Spending hours on end in a deserted bus stop takes care of the first and the third things and who, faced with waiting until the next day for the bus home (or having had their bus home leave before they’ve arrived) wouldn’t want to invent a time-machine? The bus-users of Winterslow could achieve great things while they’re waiting for their bus. How brilliant of their local authority to create the environment in which the creative talents of the people of Winterslow can bear fruit.

4. It’s Soothing. This public-transport quantum-leap eliminates one of the biggest objections people have to travelling by public transport. Timetable-anxiety: That nagging feeling that haunts people who know they have to finish whatever they’re doing punctually and get to a certain place at a certain time in order to return home. But now the residents of Winterslow won’t have to hurriedly conduct their affairs in Andover. They will experience no more the subliminal torment and creeping trepidation associated with having to rush their business to meet a tight deadline. The people of Winterslow can’t go home.   They have been liberated from the tyranny of the timetable. And from housework and nice, warm beds and things.

5. It Elevates Bus Travel From The Realms Of The Mundane. Why do the people of Winterslow take the bus to Andover? I’m sure that’s a question that none of us ever thought we’d be facing but it’s there now, so let’s brainstorm it (very briefly). Okay, are we all agreed that it’s to use the more comprehensive facilities and amenities generally associated with a larger town; shops, banks, post offices and the railway station etc? Good. But those are all rather dull things (except for etc which is redolent of mystery). Now, however, a trip to Andover has been turned into a stopover. It’s not a trip to the bank before returning home, it’s a holiday. The bus-users of Winterslow are now tourists; travellers. They’re the diesel-set. It’s so much more glamorous than a regular bus service.

6. It Saves Money. It saves the local authority money as they only have to run a bus one way (unless the bus depot is in Winterslow. Or Andover) and it saves the passengers money as they’ll only be paying for single tickets (plus they can turn the heating off in their houses for the night and they won’t be using their televisions or hobs and ovens or washing machines). So everyone wins here and, when they’re not working on their time-machine, the bus-users of Winterslow will be able to spend their night in the bus shelter calculating just how much money they’ve saved!   How thrilling and uplifting for them. This is the sort of financial whizz-kiddery that could revolutionise the public sector.

7. It’s Traditional. Wiltshire Council are merely the latest innovators in a grand tradition of cutting-edge bus-timetable thinking in the UK. With their one-way bus service, they may even have surpassed the nation’s previous high-water-mark in radical timetable departures: In 1976, it was reported that buses on the Hanley to Bagnall route in Staffordshire regularly sailed past queues of up to thirty people. This was because – in the words of Councillor Arthur Cholerton – if these buses stopped to pick up passengers, it would disrupt the timetable.* I think the one way bus service may well have topped the no-passenger model. I think the people of Wiltshire can feel rightly proud of their council’s accomplishment. And they’ll have a lot of spare time to feel proud in. Wiltshire District Council, we salute you!

Source: The Book of Heroic Failures (1979). Stephen Pile (An excellent read).

September 20, 2011
7 Reasons That This is the Worst Survey of All Time

Readers of 7 Reasons, I’m breathless with excitement. I’ve discovered something amazing. While reading this fine article to research something else, I found, in four short paragraphs in the middle, an account of an astonishingly inept survey.

The survey was conducted in the 1930s by the Mass Observation organisation and set out to quantify how many people were having sex on Blackpool beach during the month of August. They conducted their research – in a rather hapless manner – by hanging about on the beach at night looking for people having sex. During the research they managed to spectacularly and hilariously cock up their own figures. Here are seven reasons that it’s the worst survey of all time.

1. The Premise. You can call me suspicious (I won’t answer to it though) but isn’t the premise a bit fishy? I smell a rat; which is a rodent that smells of fish. It’s like someone at the Mass Observation unit suddenly said – possibly during a meeting at a pub – “I’ve got a great idea chaps, let’s all go to Blackpool and observe people having sex on the beach.” And everyone drunkenly agreed to it as a terrific idea and an utterly laudable use of their time and resources. What no one seems to have said is “But wait. Isn’t that dogging?” Because that’s what watching people having sex in a public place is. This makes their observation lack credibility. This makes it look less like a serious study and more like an excursion for perverts.

2. The Results. The results are also a little suspicious. During their study into how many people were having sex on the beach during August in Blackpool, they recorded a mere four couples having sex on the beach. Now, perhaps times have changed and things are a little more liberal in Blackpool these days but there are bus stops in Blackpool where more people are having sex than that in the middle of the afternoon. And on the beach at any given time, there are usually at least nine people attempting to have sex with a donkey. The results seem not to accurately reflect the environment that was being surveyed.

3. The Personnel. The credibility of this survey was further undermined because – and this makes it officially one of my favourite surveys ever – one of the people that the Mass Observation researchers observed having sex on the beach was another Mass Observation researcher. This brilliant incident of the hunter becoming the hunted; the ogler becoming the ogled and the peeper becoming the peepee has catapulted what was already the second least credible survey of all time (after my important research into how much tiramisu you can fit into a 6’2” man with an M in his name in a Yorkshire kitchen in December*) into first place in a race of its own.

4. The Results Are Skewed. The discovery of the researcher having sex means that, according to the Mass Observation survey, 12.5% of all people having sex on Blackpool beach during the month of August are Mass Observation researchers. Now I don’t wish to appear cynical, but if I was say…let me see…in charge of a rather unglamorous unit that generated statistics on everyday life and I was having a recruitment drive to swell the ranks of nerds that I needed to count things, what better way to glamourise it? Move over rock stars (whatever they are); move over Errol Flynn and Clark Gable; Mass Observation researchers are unabashed rampant sex beasts and brazen cocksmen and not the stammering bespectacled tweed-wearers that you previously supposed them to be. If you want to have relations with ladies in hats, join the Mass Observation unit and become a statistician. I’d imagine that brilliantined brown shoe wearers would be queuing round the block to join. On bicycles, probably.

5. The Results Are Confusing. But Wait! What if he was having sex alone? After all, if he’s the voyeuristic chap that suggested going to Blackpool in the first place, that’s entirely probable. That would make him 14% of all people having sex on Blackpool beach during the month of August! That would really be something to boast about. But that raises further questions. If you’re having sex alone while watching someone else are you having sex alone? Do you have to count the other person or people? What if he has some sort of weird fetish and is having sex alone while watching a tram or looking at a picture of Stanley Baldwin? Would that mean that former Conservative Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin was 12.5% of all people having sex on Blackpool beach in August? Should you count all of the passengers on the tram? The computations are mind-boggling.

6. It Might Be Illegal. By and large, Mass Observation researchers were amateur volunteers (and deviants apparently), but the Mass Observation organisation accepted donations and funds from book advances, so it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that the researchers were being paid to do this and it’s highly likely that they were receiving money for expenses. This raises another question. What do you call someone that gets paid when having sex? That’s right, a prostitute. So, not only has this researcher royally messed up the statistics (and given me a headache) he’s committed an act of prostitution while he was working at the beach.

7. It Gets Worse. The Mass Observation organisation have – in the act of giving money to a prostitute – become a kerb crawler. That’s the sort of label that makes the organisation that have produced the least credible survey of all time look – incredibly – less credible than they already seemed (which was not at all). This survey looks like an excuse for voyeurism, depicts Blackpool in unbelievable terms, skews its own findings by engaging in a sexual act on a beach, raises statistical questions that caused me to consider sex with a tram and the organisation that made it might have sullied their reputation by giving money to a hooker. If there has been a less credible survey ever made I’d love to see it.

*The survey’s finding: Bloody loads.

September 2, 2011
7 Reasons It Was Nigh On Impossible To Write 7 Reasons Today

Sometimes it’s easy to write 7 Reasons. You set aside a quiet couple of hours and the thoughts and words flow as if they were being dictated to you by some sort of eloquent, inspired and kindly spirit. Sometimes, on the other hand, it’s nigh on impossible. Today, has been one of those days. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Because I Began With Confidence. I Had Many Things To Do. Today, I needed to: Put a third coat of paint on a bedroom; clear all the decorating detritus from that bedroom; hoover and mop that bedroom; put all the furniture back in that bedroom; write a 7 Reasons post, visit Sainsbury’s and bathe a twelve week old child. Well, there seems like a lot there, I thought, but if I work hard and well it will all fit in.

2. Because The Best Laid Plans Often Go Awry. 10am: Having read the papers, played with my son, consumed two cups of coffee and a banana and done various bits of 7 Reasons admin over the previous two hours, I was ready to write. It was at that moment my visiting mother-in-law announced that she had a migraine. Bugger, I thought. That’s the free childcare out of the window. I spent two hours trying to write and was constantly interrupted. We went through more nappies and tantrums in those two hours than one would expect to go through in a year. Some of the tantrums weren’t even mine. The twenty minutes of writing I managed to get done in those two hours wasn’t even any good. I decided to bin it and start again.

3. Because It Turns Out That A Change Isn’t As Good As A Rest. I decided that as it was such a nice day, I would take the laptop outside and write in the garden. This was a great idea. I sat under a parasol and began to write. Then, a baby cried and I got to play a new game: Whose Baby? Was it my baby? Was it one of next door’s babies? Was it the baby from two doors down? Was it a nomadic passing baby? Eventually the crying stopped so if it was my baby then my wife was dealing with it and I didn’t have to. Then all of a sudden, a bee appeared. But this was no average bee, this was Beezilla: A veritable beehemoth* of a creature that angrily buzzed its way through the garden as if drawn inexorably to me. With an audible thud it landed on the table. I considered calling for help, but realised that it would be too long in coming. I made a run for it. I watched the bee from the utility room window for half an hour or so as it relaxed next to my laptop on the table. This wasn’t getting me anywhere.

4. Because When One Door Opens, Another Gets Rung By Parcelforce. As suddenly as it had arrived, the bee departed. It was 1pm. There was still time to write. I returned to the garden. I wrote for five minutes; swiftly, sharply, with rapidity and alacrity, then I heard the sound of my neighbours’ door opening. He strode out into the garden and seated himself on the other side of the wall that my back was to. We were no more than three feet away from each other. Oh no, I thought, as I had some inkling of what was about to happen. And sure enough, he began to play his mandolin. Now I love music, and I love writing. But I can tell you that being three feet away from the former is not conducive to the latter. I struggled on nonetheless, writing manfully but badly. Then my mother-in-law appeared. “Marc“, she said quite correctly, “there’s someone at the door and I can’t open it“. Annoyed at the interruption but glad of the opportunity to escape the cacophony I went through the house and opened the front door. It was a delivery driver. “Can you take in a parcel for next door?” he enquired, “They’re not in“. I seethed for a moment, I briefly considered ParcelForceicide, I also considered bellowing “They are in! He’s playing the fucking mandolin in the garden and can’t hear the door. Feel free to smash it down and kill him to death!” but I realised that might make me look somewhat unhinged so I took in the parcel. I also decided to abandon writing.

5. Because A Change Still Isn’t As Good As A Rest. If I couldn’t write then I could at least get some of the other stuff out of the way. I went upstairs and put the third coat of paint on the bedroom walls and ceiling. It’s a large room and I loathe painting but it went well. Eventually I completed the task and, having washed all the paint from my hands, my hair, my eye and my left nostril I headed back to the room with the hoover. “You can’t use that,” my wife said, “Mum’s gone back to bed“. I couldn’t go to Sainsbury’s, I was still wearing my decorating clothes. I couldn’t bathe the baby, it wasn’t time. Then I had a novel idea. I would eat something. I ate, then I paced, growing steadily more furious at the delay. Eventually after about an hour I decided to return to writing. Five minutes later, my mother-in-law surfaced. I was purposefully typing away in the dining room and as she passed she said, “You’re always on that computer“. I distinctly remember thinking that were I a cat-kicker, at that moment, I would surely have kicked a cat. Even if I had to go a long way to find one.

6. Because Like Sands Through The Hourglass, So Was This Day Of My Life. I returned to the room to clean it up. I hoovered, I mopped and then I changed. “Right, I’m off to Sainsbury’s” I announced. “But we have to bathe the baby“, my wife objected. “Fine, let’s do that now then”, I said tersely. “But it’s not time”, she replied. I seethed, “It’s now or not at all”. We agreed that we would bathe him right then. I turned on the tap to draw his bath at the same moment as the washing machine started up in the utility room, stealing all of the hot water. Drip…drip…drip, I angrily watched the bath fill drop by drop by drop by endless bloody drop. After what seemed an age, and probably was, the bath was ready. We bathed the baby. That was fun. I went to Sainsbury’s and returned. It was half past seven. All I had to do now was put the furniture back into the thoroughly clean and immaculately decorated bedroom and write 7 Reasons.

7. Because Just When You Think You’ve Got It Licked, It Bites You In The Posterior. I worked hard. I shifted a wardrobe, a bed, a dressing table and many smaller items around the upper floor of my house with furious resolve. I toiled and I sweated and I lugged things round and pushed endless heavy things through tiny spaces until I was exhausted. Right, I thought (it was 8:37pm), I’ll do one final thing before I sit down to write, I’ll put the Venetian blind back up. I reattached the blind to its long established fixings and began to raise it, to better let the fresh air flow through the open window and dissipate the paint smell. Then this happened.

Half of the newly painted wall came away depositing plaster, cement and brick all over the immaculate floor, the newly polished dressing table and in my (just refilled) glass of sparkling water. I believe that I may have announced my displeasure at this turn of events to the entire town of York. In Anglo-Saxon. I may have foamed at the mouth. I may have punched what remained of the wall. Right, time to write 7 Reasons then.

I Sat Down. So, what does an angry humourist with a sore hand that has just abjectly lost his sense of humour write about? Oh, this apparently.

*I’m actually proud of that.

June 14, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons My Experience With Northern Rail Was Shocking

Okay. This has never happened before, and it may never happen again but today, we’re bringing you a guest post on a Tuesday. This is not because we’ve decided we can’t be bothered writing something ourselves, or that we can’t get enough material from the world not ending. We could possibly write about that for a week. We’re posting this today because well, frankly, a friend of one of the 7 Reasons team has just been through a ghastly and iniquitous experience at the hands of Northern Rail and fortunately – as a former journalist – he was in a great position to write it up for us. We have, in the parlance of his former trade, a scoop. So here’s indie-popster, former-journalist, father, husband-to-be and public relations man Conrad Astley to tell his tale of woe. This should be a cautionary tale to us all. Take it away, Con.

When it comes to writing that autobiography, everyone needs their chapter about standing up for truth and justice. Their tale about sticking it to The Man. Their clammy-palmed, seat-of-the-pants courtroom drama.

Well, here’s mine. And it was all about fifty pence.

1. Yes, You Read That Right. 50p. Enough money to buy a packet of chewing gum, a bag of crisps, maybe a chocolate bar if you stick to the cheaper brands. Enough to buy roughly one seventh of a pint if you drink in tastefully lit venues full of attractive, fashionable people, or maybe a quarter of a pint if you prefer hostelries that smell of dog hair and failure. Yet for some reason, Northern Rail – one of the country’s biggest train companies who operate services from Carlisle to Crewe – insisted this sum was worthy of a criminal court’s time.

2. This Went On For A Long Time. The story started last June, when I was making a return journey from Hyde to Manchester Piccadilly and mistakenly bought the wrong ticket. Yes, for readers outside Greater Manchester, that is Hyde of Harold Shipman fame. For reasons far too tedious to go into here, I was travelling into the city centre from one station, with the intention of returning to another several hundred yards away.

3. I Made A Mistake, But In Good Faith. As the two stations were so close, I thought both journeys cost the same amount, so for the sake of convenience I bought a return ticket from the station I was returning to. It turned out I was wrong, and the difference between the two journeys was in fact 50p. A Northern Rail official brought me to one side, took my name and address and, despite the tiny amount involved, told me in no uncertain terms that I had committed a criminal offence which carried a maximum fine of £1,000.

4. I Tried To Make Amends. I tried explaining that this was an honest mistake and offered to pay a fixed penalty notice – once in person to the official and twice in writing – and even sent them a letter of complaint as a shot across the bow. What happened next can only be described as strange. I received a letter of apology from Northern – admittedly for the fact they had not initially replied to my complaint rather than for the incident itself – along with a free one-day travel voucher. I assumed the whole incident had been forgotten about. After all, nobody would prosecute someone they’d apologised to in writing, would they?

5. Suddenly... It turns out they would. Fast forward to the first week of the new year, and a court summons landed on my doormat, accompanied by a list of witness statements and a sheet explaining that I was being prosecuted under legislation dating back to the great Victorian age of steam. Was I going to be transported to the colonies? Not quite, but somewhat disturbingly, it did state I could – technically – be sent to prison for up to three months.*

Of course, I didn’t need to worry and this was no big deal. In fact, the first few legal people I spoke to said the best thing to do would be to plead guilty and go all out with the mitigation.

After all, the worst I’d be likely to get was a conditional discharge, as well as having to pay Northern’s £100 costs. And with a full time job, a young child and a wedding coming up, I didn’t need the hassle of going through a trial.

6. But It Was Wrong. But on the other hand, doing this would mean getting a criminal record, which – no matter how small the offence – I’d have had to declare whenever I applied for a job, took out an insurance policy, or went on holiday to America. Was that worth it for 50p? Some niggling thing deep down inside said I needed to fight this.

Now, if there ever was an advert for joining a trade union, this is it. I contacted the good people on Unison (my trade union)’s legal advice line who told me that, as the train journey had been to get me into work, this was technically employment-related and that they’d pay for my representation.

They also advised me to plead not guilty and even got me a barrister. This was getting serious.

The case was finally heard on 16 May, three court hearings, 11 months, countless meetings and phone calls to lawyers, and a great deal of stress later.

7. They Came Out With A Lovely Line. In order to win the case, Northern needed to prove three things: that I was travelling on the train on that day, that I had bought the ticket in question, and – beyond all reasonable doubt – that I had intentionally set out to defraud them. The prosecution said that if everyone used the railway defrauded them of fifty pence every day, the rail companies would lose a huge amount. I can’t remember the exact amount quoted, but I do remember feeling very concerned for the shareholders. But, as my defence barrister pointed out in his closing statement, if my intention had been to defraud anyone, I might not have chosen a station a few hundred yards away from the one where I’d embarked. Perhaps the true fraudster might have gone for one of the three other stations closer into Manchester, which would of course have carried smaller fares. This might have been the clincher, as the magistrates eventually found me not guilty.

If a single ounce of common sense had been applied to the situation, it would never have gone anywhere near a court, and I would not like to estimate how much this little episode cost the taxpayer.

As a regular passenger, I pay Northern Rail the best part of a grand a year for what is frankly a shoddy service. It’s good to know where their priorities lie.

*The 7 Reasons team added that asterisk: A young child could have been deprived of her father for three months which would surely have hampered her development, for nothing. For absolutely no reason. Shame on you, Northern Rail. Shame on you.

May 24, 2011
7 Reasons They Were Very Wrong

It’s the 3^rd of December and, to save you wondering why that’s significant and making you worry that you’ve forgotten your birthday or Easter or something, we’ll tell you. On this day, in 1929, U.S. President, Herbert Hoover, delivered the first State of the Union Address since the Wall Street Crash to Congress. But this wasn’t your run of the mill State of the Union Address where nothing much of interest gets said. Well, it was, but in the middle of all of the traditional consciousness-bothering guff, Herbert Hoover said something so obviously, epically and unarguably wrong that he has inspired us to bring you seven of our favourite examples of wrongness.

President Hoover. Talking.

1. Herbert Hoover. “While the crash only took place six months ago, I am convinced that we have now passed the worst and with continuity of effort we shall rapidly recover.” And following those fine, rousing, confident words, America and the rest of the world plunged into The Great Depression, which saw American production fall by 46%, foreign trade fall by 70%, unemployment rocket by 607% and shanty-towns filled with the homeless spring up around every major U.S. city. They called them Hoovervilles.

2. Dr Dionysius Lardner. “Rail travel at high speed is not possible, because passengers, unable to breathe, would die of asphyxia.” The professor of Natural Philosophy and Astronomy at University College London was wrong on two levels here. One; trains don’t actually reach high-speed in this country because there is always a poxy cow on the line, and two; if passengers unable to breathe did get on a train, they would already be dead.

3. Glenn McGrath. The great Australian bowler predicted Ashes whitewashes in 2005, 2009 & 2010/11. With England on the receiving end. He was wrong. The fact that he got it right in 2006/7 is more a testament to infinite monkey theorem than to any logical analysis*. And to the fact that England were rubbish.**

4. Sir William Preece. The chief engineer of the British Post Office said in 1876, “The Americans have need of the telephone, but we do not. We have plenty of messenger boys.” So in Victorian Britain, not all boys were up chimneys or in the workhouse; they were carrying messages which, according to Sir William Preece, is the ideal way to have a chat with your mother who lives a hundred and fifty miles away. “Hello Mother, how are you?”, you would write, before summoning one of the multitudinous boys to bear your message to her. And when he returned, breathlessly, a mere fortnight later with the reply, “Fine, thank you,” you would send him straight back again with a note inscribed, “And how’s Father?”. In the Preecian vision of the future of communication, Americans could have a ten-minute-long conversation with their mothers while the British would have a forty-two-week-long one which would cost the lives of approximately nine urchins. Perhaps to make his idea more marketable to the communications industry he considered the slogan: The future’s bright, the future’s boys. Or perhaps not.

5. Newsweek, In an issue looking into the future of travel, Newsweek magazine carried this prediction of popular holiday destinations for the late 1960s. “And for the tourist who really wants to get away from it all, safaris in Vietnam.” Erm…yeah. Now Newsweek weren’t totally wrong here. Vietnam did receive a massive influx of American tourists with rifles in the late 1960s, it’s just that they weren’t there to safari. Or to sit by the pool.

6. Lord Kelvin. In 1883, the President of the Royal Society, said, “X-Rays will prove to be a hoax”. To this day, I bet he wishes he had said the ‘X-Files’. It’s a shame though really, because if X-Rays were a hoax then that cracked fibula I suffered could also have been a hoax. As would be the inevitable snapped fibula. And all the surgery. In fact, my whole life would have been a hoax. But it’s not. Because X-Rays are real. And so am I.***

7. Major General John Sedgewick. While directing artillery placements, Sedgewick and his corps came under fire from Confederate sharpshooters about a thousand yards away. As his officers and men ducked and scurried away, General Sedgewick loftily dismissed the notion of taking cover saying, “What? Men dodging this way for single bullets? What will you do when they open fire along the whole line? I am ashamed of you. They couldn’t hit an elephant at this dist…”. They were his last words.

*Glen McGrath is an infinite monkey. You heard it here first.

**Except Ian Bell.

***Jonathan Lee is real. You heard it here first.

December 3, 2010
7 Reasons I Should Have Made My Omelette First

Yesterday I made an omelette. Two in fact. While I don’t except any congratulations for this – I have, after all, done the same many times before – I am not averse to receiving any adulation you wish to bestow. That said, given the state of the second omelette – the one I had – you may find it more fitting to belittle and mock. I won’t hold it against you if this is your choice. I am, however, going to explain why the second omelette was such a disaster. There are – as I am sure you would expect – mitigating circumstances surrounding the event. Probably seven.

1. Rushing. I don’t know whether you have ever made two omelettes before, I suspect you are not as maverick as I and as such have not. Let me tell you now though, it is not as easy as it sounds. Unless you are a greedy bugger – or hungry – the chances are you are making two omelettes because there are two people wishing to have one. This was the case last night. I wanted one. My girlfriend agreed that she would have one. Being nice and not wishing to relinquish control of the frying pan, I made my girlfriend her omelette first. But then I wanted to eat mine with her. (I have long suspected we are the last two romantics in the Maidstone catchment area.) As a result I rushed the manufacture of my omelette. And as I am sure you are aware, a premature omelette is not an omelette at all. It’s a mess.

2. The Difficult Second Omelette. We have all heard of the phrase, ‘the difficult second album’. Apart from maybe Oasis. And Toploader. Though admittedly Toploader struggled with their first album too so maybe that doesn’t count. Anyway, I digress. My point is that the pressure was on and, instead of just concentrating on making the second omelette the best it could be, I tried to make it as good as the first omelette. As soon as I did that I was in competition with myself. And I cracked under the strain.

3. Whisking. The trick with making a good omelette mixture is not too whisk it too much. I forgot that it had been whisked before the making of omelette number one. So I whisked before construction of number two. The result was too light and runny. As a result I got air pockets under my omelette. I was trying to salvage the mission from that point on. And that is not an environment conducive to success.

4. Mixture Fail. There is also another reason omelette one was more a success. There was enough mixture to comfortably fill the frying pan. When it came to the second effort, there wasn’t. I’ll be honest. I was stretching the credibility of myself as an omelette maker here. Without enough mixture I added a little milk straight into the frying pan. That was stupid. The frying pan spat it back at me.

5. Tosser. To toss or not to toss? This question is widely debated in omelette making circles. I adhere to the point of view that – before filling is added – the omelette should be tossed. Yesterday, I tossed one of the omelettes and didn’t the other. I’ll let you guess which is which.

6. Filling. We have a rule in our house. As I am the man, I have more food. I like this rule and I didn’t even think of it. So when it came to filling the omelettes, I made sure there was more filling for me. Unfortunately, the amount of filling was calculated on how big the omelette would be. As my omelette was 80% of it’s intended size I really should have put 80% of the filling inside. But I didn’t. I’m a man. So I put it all in. And then I tried to fold the omelette in half. And that is when it snapped at the seams.

7. Manoeuvring. Taking the omelette from pan to plate should be a simple process. Assuming you have actually made an omelette it is possible to tilt the pan and watch the omelette slide into position. Which is what happened with omelette one. Omelette two though wasn’t an omelette. It was a mess. And the mess containing cheese which was now sticking to the pan. I had no option but to shovel it out. And that’s what I did.

November 12, 2010
7 Reasons That This Sign Could Be Better

1. What’s Missing? I saw this sign on a First Capital Connect train yesterday. What do you notice about it? Or, more specifically, what do you notice about the person depicted on the sign? That’s right, First Capital Connect, you have a sign asking people without feet to keep their feet off the seats. You might as well have put this sign up.

2. It’s Not Very Interesting. But if you’re going to ask people to keep something that they don’t have off seats, then feet don’t really have enough appeal. Football has mass-market appeal and advertisers often use it to get their message across. How about this?

3. Some People Don’t Like Football Though. So you can always try a more fanciful approach.

4. Your. Given that the person depicted has no feet you, rightly, don’t use the word your, as you aren’t asking them to keep their feet off the seats; you’re asking them to keep feet in general off the seats, presumably in case any footless passengers travelling on your train are carrying bags of feet, which are probably quite heavy and burdensome. In which case, this sign would be better. This sign would also let people know that putting bags containing items other than feet on seats is also unacceptable, thus serving a practical dual purpose.

5. Targetting. It’s not clear which footless demographic the sign is aimed at. After all, if these footless people are old enough to travel by train, but are still so ignorant that they need to be told not to put their feet on the seats, then the chances are that they won’t know why it is wrong. This sign spells out the consequences to them.

6. Or Be Less Subtle. Or you can try the putting the fear of god into them by letting them know that if they put their feet on the seats then they will be shot by a man without a lower-body. That should get their attention. Can you implement a foot response unit?

7. Feet. Or you could just have thought about what you were doing in the first place and engaged someone competent to do your signage. I’d like to tell you that your stupid sign ruined my journey, but it didn’t. The late-running of the train did that.

August 24, 2010
7 Reasons The Sinclair C5 Was Destined To Fail

The Sinclair C5 was relentlessly ridiculed. And quite rightly so, it was rubbish. Any Industrial Design & Technology graduate/person will tell you that. But if they had just made a few small changes, it could have sold at least 500 more units.

1. Women. Quite why Sir Clive Sinclair thought his bucket-on-wheels was going to appeal to a market that needs to check make-up upon arrival at destination, is anyone’s guess. But he did. And he was wrong. If only he had doubled one of the wheels up as a mirror. Sure, it may have looked a bit ‘bling’, but it would probably have appealed to the ever growing pimping community.

2. Date. Unfortunately for Sir Clive, he decided to launch the Sinclair C5 on 10th January 1985. It just so happened that the Viennese zither player, Anton Karas, passed away that day. And as we all know, a zither is much more powerful than a Sinclair C5. The 11th January 1985 was a very slow news day. If only Clive had waited 24 hours.

3. Hills. Always a bit annoying having to get out of your vehicle and push it up a hill isn’t it? Which is why the Sinclair C5 should have come with a tow rope. Or a map that just showed hills that went down.

4. Stirling Job. Getting Sir Stirling Moss to promote the Sinclair C5 may have seemed like a stroke of genius, but they really should have prepped him first. “Just treat it as if you are riding a bicycle,” probably wasn’t quite the ringing endorsement Clive was after.

5. Washing Machines Live Longer With Sinclair. There is an urban myth that says the Sinclair C5 was powered by a washing machine motor. It’s a myth because although the motor manufacturers, Polymotor, do supply to the washing machine industry, they also manufacture torpedo motors. Unfortunately, it is true that the body work of the Sinclair C5 was manufactured by Hoover. Clive should have waited for Dyson. Then maybe I wouldn’t be trying to think of witicisms that involve ‘Sinclair C5’ and ‘cleaning up’.

6. Britain. Sir Clive’s biggest mistake was probably that he tried to sell the Sinclair C5 in Britain. Not only did Britain already have things called cars, it also had weather. And sadly it was never very good. If Sir Clive had been any good at geography, he would have realised that the Sahara desert would be a much better place for his bits of plastic. If it had come with a spade too, the owners could have made sandcastles.

7. Elephants. There is a joke about elephants and minis that I have never really understood. It goes something like this. Q: How many elephants can you fit in a Mini? A: Four. Two in the front, two in the back. Hilarious it may not be, but it does at least make you think of four elephants. In a Mini. Now that’s a terrific endorsement for both Minis and elephant dieting tips if ever I have heard one. So now let’s try it with the Sinclair C5. Q: How many elephants can you fit in a Sinclair C5? A:

August 18, 2010
7 Reasons That Twitter Should Replace The Fail Whale

Tharr she blows! It’s the Fail Whale. Don’t panic though, dear reader. This doesn’t mean that our website is down. We’re just fed up of the Fail Whale, Twitter’s iconic image which surfaces whenever the social media network isn’t functioning. Beautiful as it is, we think that it’s time to replace it. Here are seven reasons why.

1. It’s Not Fair To Whales. Whales have enough problems without Twitter tainting them with failure by association. Zeppelins, like Twitter, are cool. Yet they’re already associated with failure. What better way to show that the network is down?

2. Sometimes It Appears Erroneously. Sometimes the Fail Whale appears once, only to disappear when you refresh the screen. This means that Twitter isn’t wholly down, it’s just working slowly. For that eventuality, they require a Fail Snail.

3. Because Twitter Is Down A Lot. Twitter is a huge success and has grown rapidly. Yet their servers seem unable to cope. This constantly frustrates users and, in turn, leads to ill-will towards the network. If they don’t sort their technical issues out soon, they may find themselves becoming extinct. The Fail Dodos would remind them of this.

4. It Doesn’t Suggest A Helpful Alternative. The Fail Whale doesn’t really tell you much. This image though, suggests an alternative and more reliable – though archaic – method of communication to use while twitter is down. Behold, the Fail Mail.

5. The Image Suggests Functionality. The Fail Whale image shows a whale being held aloft by Twitter’s cute little birds. Rather than suggesting that Twitter isn’t working, the Fail Whale image suggests that it is. A far less plausible, and therefore more accurate, image would be the Fail Bird: A large Twitter bird being kept airborne by school of fail whales.

6. Sleep. Because the Fail Whale image is slightly reminiscent of Dali’s Sleep, which is a much more interesting thing to look at. And it’s important to be stimulated while you’re unable to communicate with people.

7. It Doesn’t Go Far Enough. It’s a pretty picture, but the Fail Whale image doesn’t state what is occurring in clear enough terms. This is far more descriptive.

And yes, we did put most of these images together last night, while Twitter was down.

August 6, 2010