Tag: Fly

7 Reasons Playing With A Cuddly Toy 2010 Was Not A Let Down

Hello it’s Jon again. I know you weren’t expecting me again today – I wasn’t expecting me again today – but here I am. In my third and final attempt at reliving my childhood, I have decided to go all the way back to 1983. The year of my birth. On Christmas Day 1983, I was given a bear. Humbear. (He was the official bear of the Humber Bridge. Obviously). For many years he never left my side. So, in a bid to recreate the joys I once had, I am going to spend a day in the company of a cuddly toy. Unfortunately, Humbear isn’t with me. He’s at my parent’s house. So I have had to substitute him. And into Humbear’s place comes my girlfriend’s lamb, Lamb. (This is not his official name). Lamb and I spent a whole twenty-four hours together. And it was great. Truly great.

1. Lamb Can Fly. One of the things I have always regretted, is that Humbear always landed on his head whenever he slid down the handrail. Lamb doesn’t. Lamb bounces. Off his rather rotund chest. And then he sits upright. Ready for another go.

2. Lamb Can Dance. I learnt all my dance moves from Humbear, which explains a lot. Mostly why I prefer to do all my dancing sitting down ignoring the dance floor. If I had had Lamb on Christmas Day 1983, I dare say no one would credit the moonwalk to Michael Jackson. No matter what comes on the radio, Lamb does know how to have a good old bop. I did question his moves to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On, but I shouldn’t have done. If we all liked the same things the world would be very boring.

3. Lamb Can Play Cricket. Not matter how much I coached him, Humbear was quite a poor cricketer. He never seemed to learn and sadly had to retire from the game in circa 1989 after he was called for chucking a record 347 times in a row. Lamb though, well he’s quite a different character. Rather wonderfully, he doesn’t have much stuffing under his arms and so they actually move. A full 360 degrees at the shoulder. As a result he is quite rapid. Even if he does suffer from Harmison-itis.

4. Lamb Doesn’t Get Bored. Humbear, despite all the epic adventures he shared with me, always had a habit of looking very bored. Whether this was actually the case or whether it was just because the person whole made him stitched his mouth on upside down, I never discovered. Thankfully, Lamb comes with a positive attitude to life. He just sits there, watching me work, loving every minute of it. Whenever I look up, he is there, smiling away. It makes one very proud of the little fella.

5. Lamb Doesn’t Eat Biscuits. To this day, I am still convinced it was my Dad who stole the biscuit and implicated Humbear in the whole affair. Though, at the time, I may have believed him. Thankfully, Lamb doesn’t like biscuits. He just sits there, watching me, munching away. And he seems to enjoy the spectacle. So I have another one to entertain him.

6. Lamb Is Happy To Sleep On The Floor. I was always too scared to let Humbear sleep on the floor. I thought he may run away in the night, torn up inside by my rejection of him. As a result, he always slept in my bed. And to this day, he still does. At least he does when I’m not there. Lamb is very different. We came to an agreement. Whoever won the pillow fight, got to sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a long fight.

7. Lamb Doesn’t Miss Me. I always felt incredibly guilty about leaving Humbear alone if I had to go to school or play in the garden or hide him under the bed if a friend came round to play pirates. Thankfully, I don’t feel a shred of guilt about leaving Lamb alone when I go to play pirates with my friends. I say friends. They are more local school children. And I like to roar at them from behind bushes. Still good fun though. Anyway, Lamb is very happy not coming with me. He stays in bed with Big Bear and Strong Yoghurt. Again, not their official names.

*Many thanks to Claire for the loan (albeit unknown) of Lamb.

September 16, 2010
7 Reasons That Vuvuzelas Are Annoying

1. The Obsession. The nation is obsessed with the vuvuzela. It’s impossible to read a newspaper, listen to the radio, watch the television, go to the pub, or read an internet humour site without someone bleating on about vuvuzelas. But I think that this focus on the vuvuzela is causing us to miss out on other World Cup stories. We’re just not getting enough ill-informed conjecture about problems with the ball: Is it that it’s too round? Is it the altitude? Does it fly too straight? Doesn’t it fly straight enough? Does it look too much like a fly?

It's a fly!

All of the coverage of the vuvuzelas is preventing us from having what we really want. 24 hour per day coverage of the ball. And more Robbie Savage.

2. The Name. The English language is a fusion of many languages from around the world and a lot of our words come from other countries. We get bungalow from India, sepia from Italy, mammoth from Russia and surrender from France (rather unsurprisingly). Yet it’s safe to say that our language wasn’t aided in its evolution by anyone who had been involved in professional football as, in the past week – from various players and former-players – I’ve heard “vuvulas”, “vuvuslas”, “the horns” and from Sir Geoff Hurst, no less, “uvuvezlas”. The awful mangling of the word vuvuzela is possibly the only thing that’s more grating than the sound of the instrument itself.

3. Stadium Atmosphere. The din of the vuvuzelas drowns out everything else occurring in the stadiums. This isn’t always a bad thing, as it drowned out the sound of happy Germans on Sunday, but it drowned everything else out too. The crowd reaction, singing, cheering, chanting, abuse; in fact, just about all of the things that reflect the partisan nature of football. The drone of massed vuvuzelas is a relentless unremitting cacophany that doesn’t abuse the referee, ask Fabio to dance, play the theme from The Great Escape (sorry, poor argument); doesn’t do anything fun or interesting at all. It’s just noise. An incessant racket that drowns out everything good about the stadium atmosphere. Everything.

4. Domestic Atmosphere. The vuvuzela operates at a similar pitch and tone to the human voice which means that, when you’re viewing the World Cup at home, you’re trying to filter out the frequency that other people in the room are speaking at. Thanks to the vuvuzela, if my wife turned to me during a match and said, “Would you like a beer?” or “Jennifer Aniston’s at the door, she wants to know if you can come out to play,” I probably wouldn’t hear her. Experience tells me that she’s unlikely to say either of those things, but what if she did and I missed it? Catastrophe. I hate going to the fridge.

5. Envy. It’s substantial, straight and three feet long, and I must say that I’m quite jealous, as there’s no way I could take anything like that to a football match in England. I’d probably be fed to a police-horse or charged with possession of a vuva vovos avuvuvu…“I’ll let you off with a caution this time sonny, now on your way”. We don’t even get trusted with bottled water over here.

6. Sound. The sound of massed vuvuzelas is like the sound of a swarm of angry wasps, but deeper. Usually, the larger an animal is, the deeper the sound that they make – so it’s giant angry wasps that we’ll hear the sound of all summer. Giant angry wasps! Well I certainly won’t be falling asleep during a match, or at any time at all during the summer. Except when Andy Townsend’s “analysing” the action, that is.

7. We’re Stuck With Them. There is only one thing that would be worse than enduring the sound of the vuvuzela: That would be banning the vuvuzela. Just because we Europeans have our own expectations of how a football match should be viewed, it doesn’t mean that they should be forced on the rest of the world. This is South Africa’s World Cup, and god knows they’ve earned it. World Cup 2010 should be a uniquely African spectacle and, much to my annoyance, this includes that giant dung beetle thing from the opening ceremony and the bloody vuvuzelas. But we shouldn’t be downhearted about this; sometimes the most memorable parts of World Cups are the unique things that the host nations bring to them. Mexico ’86’s wave, Argentina ’78’s ticker-tape, Italia ’90’s Three Tenors and USA ’94’s blank incomprehension about some sort of soccer-ball tournament going on. Long after many of the matches and incidents are forgotten, these are the memories that remain. And so it will be with the vuvuzela. We will have to suffer it for a month or so, but in time it’ll be the thing that the tournament is remembered for. We may even feel nostalgia for it. Eventually.

June 15, 2010
7 Reasons To Fly A Kite

1. Cats. It’s a well known fact that 80% of all missing cats are somewhere up a tree. 60% of these cats are found when someone accidentally gets their kite tangled up on the same branch. So basically, the morale of this reason is thus: If you’ve lost a cat, buy a kite.

2. Life Skills Training. There aren’t many more annoying things in life than Janet Street-Porter, but trying to fly a kite when there is no wind has to be one of them. Charging up and down the park, dragging a bit of string and cellophane – or whatever that material is – along the ground is enough to give anyone the hump. But this is where perseverance comes in. If at first you don’t succeed, keep trying until the wind comes.

3. You Want To Be David Attenborough. I, myself, have always liked the idea of being a sports commentator. Which is why, whenever I see a dog off it’s lead, I pretend it’s in a Grand Prix. It’s good practice. If you want to make wildlife documentaries, I can’t think of better place to practice than in the park. Preferably one like that in the above photo. You can make insightful comment on the relationship between a giant purple bear and a red lizard without any danger of either of them turning on you.

4. SOS. I know it’s unlikely, but if you ever find yourself on an apparently deserted island, well the best thing you can do is whip out your kite. Fly it high in the sky and there is much more chance of you being spotted and saved before the island monster comes and reads your mind and then kills you.*

5. Hand-eye Co-ordination. If you’ve ever wanted to improve your use of a knife and fork or your ability to text when drunk, then flying a kite surely has to be the perfect practice. Keep the kite in the air, without the strings tangling, without taking out another kite and without walking off the edge of the cliff. The results will be incredible. Don’t believe me? Well, you try using a knife and fork at the foot of the Beachy Head.

6. Chat-up Technique. If you see someone you like flying their kite, all you have to do is ‘accidentally’ run towards them and take their kite out with yours. Or, if you think they’ll provide you with a soft landing, just take them out. The next step is to be apologetic and, before you know it, you’ll be off on a date to the nearest kite repair store. Or the hospital.

7. Watch Retriever. You’ve probably never thought of this, but next time a magpie flies off with your watch, get the kite out. If you are quick enough you can chase after the pesky thing and capture it. Much more bird friendly than a shotgun.

*I might have been watching Lost a bit too much.

May 19, 2010
7 Reasons To Fly With British Airways This Christmas

1. You’re the boss. The last thing BA need now is more bad publicity. The staff, therefore, are going to be under strict instructions to be extra pleasant to customers. Anything from getting away with being 3kg overweight (your luggage that is) to a constant supply of dry roasted peanuts could be yours.

2. Bump it up. With the cancellation of so many flights, planes are going to be even more overbooked than usual. BA are going to have to let the masses into Club Class – a beautiful place that doesn’t involve recreating the Gauntlet from Gladiators whenever you want to go to the toilet.

3. Relax. Flying with young children is stressful at the best of times, let alone at Christmas. It’s not a proven fact, but a quick poll suggests that 99% of parents would really rather not fly with their offspring. Thankfully, only 13% of these people decide to leave their children at the airport and go off by themselves. The other 87% just cancel their flights and stay at home. And that is exactly what they will be doing this year. Which means you can enjoy your flight without the constant sound of crying babies or the prospect of getting arrested upon arrival at your destination having throttled the little git who had been kicking the back of your seat for two hours.

4. Richard Branson. He never flies with BA.

5. Welcome on board. The six members of BA’s 12,500 strong cabin crew that haven’t decided to go on strike, will be on your flight. And make no mistake about it, they will be feeling the heat. So much so that an extra button may just happen to be undone on their shirts. Oh yes, they’ll be using their sex appeal this festive period. There’ll be a whole lot more bending over you on BA this Christmas. Just to keep you happy. And if you are really lucky it may even be a woman. (If you are a woman, you may wish to read that as man).

6. No clappers. A lot of Americans who are due to fly to the UK with BA will now decide to cancel their flights. This means that when you fly out to the US for New Year there will be a dearth of Yanks returning home. As a result, when you land at JFK there won’t be a round of applause for the pilot – officially the third most annoying thing in the world, after, one, applauding at the end of a film and, two, Janet Street-Porter. Why do Americans do it anyway? Why do they applaud the pilot? I’ve just spent £800 on a plane ticket. The least I expect is that I actually get to my destination alive. Just stop it America. Stop it. It’s very silly. And bloody annoying.

7. Back British. It’s no secret that BA are in dire financial straits. They need your money. If you don’t fly with them they will have to implement more cost-cutting strategies. Anything could happen. Leg room could be reduced to get more seats on the plane. You may have to start sharing flight socks with Doreen (she’s 78 and has a gout issue). They may even make omelettes appear at breakfast, lunch and dinner. It is your duty to stop this happening. It is your duty to fly with BA.

December 16, 2009