Tag: fun

7 Reasons The Zoo Is My Habitat

Last week I did something I hadn’t done since I was a boy. I went to the zoo. I’m not going to lie, I immediately felt at home. Here’s why:

Zoolympics Challlenge 1: Stick Your Head Through A Set Of Shark Dentures And Look Sexy

1. Playground. As I may have expressed before, I am a boy trapped in a man’s body. Though whose it is, I am yet to establish. I have never grown up and I don’t intend to. I like being silly. Silly is good. I also like swinging from things while being silly. I saw monkeys at the zoo. They were being silly. And swinging. And picking their noses. It looked awesome. Well, maybe not the picking the nose bit. That made me a little bit sick. But the silliness and the swinging was definitely for me. I want to do that.

2. Sleep. Generally, after I’ve had a day of being silly and swinging around the clothes line, I like to have a sleep. Unfortunately I am prevented in this pursuit by one of two things. Either Claire arrives home or, as sometimes happens, Claire is already at home. Such appearances from my future wife make it very hard to sleep when there are important things to do such as make dinner, plan weddings* or – and the notion still makes me shiver – talk. At the zoo, there was silliness, swinging and sleeping. A whole lot of sleeping.

3. Talk. As previously indicated, I’m not a big fan of talking. I absolutely loathe small-talk. And, as for big-talk, I would rather do a naked lap of St. Andrews. (The football ground, not the golf course. My embarrassment does not need enhancing by the cold Scottish winds). It’s not that I’m uninterested in what you have to say, it’s more that The Tremeloes said Silence Is Golden and I have never stopped listening to them. The thing I noticed at the zoo was that animals don’t talk. Not even a little bit. They make weird noises occasionally – which is nice – but there’s no talking. And no animals asking other animals to talk to them either. Which means more time for silliness, swinging and sleeping. They’ve got it sorted.

4. Feeding. Some of the animals are fed upwards of four times a day. And I’m not talking about snacks here, I am talking proper meals. Four proper meals. Each day. That’s my kind of feeding.

5. Chores. With the exception of the ants who seemingly work all day and all night carrying bits of leaf over logs, non of the animals at the zoo have to work. Or go to school. Or get the shopping in. Or iron their trousers. (In fact, many of the animals I saw were naked). Animals, from what I have seen, don’t do any of the boring stuff at all. They’ve never had to write essays on Pride & Prejudice. They’ve never had to stand in a queue at the bank. They’ve never experienced an episode of Time Team. Their work-life balance is perfect. No work, all life. And life, as I’m sure we can all agree, is for living. It is not for spending in Barclays.

6. Vanity. It’s an alarming statistic, but if I was to walk down the entire length of Regent Street ten times in a row, only on seven of those would someone stop and take a photo of me. For someone who fancies themselves quite as much as I do and does their very best to live up to the meaning of their name – Gift Of God – it’s rather upsetting when someone just walks past without even so much as a raise of the eyebrow. In the zoo though, everyone would be taking photos of me. I’d probably even appear on postcards and desktop backgrounds and t-shirts. And that is the way it should be.

7. Olympic Qualities. As I was walking around the zoo I was challenged to a number of Olympic contests. The Zoolympics they called it. A name that made me chuckle uncontrollably for at least twenty-two seconds. From what I experienced the Zoolympics were designed to belittle me. In less than three hours I discovered that my reaction time was slower than the Blue Dart Frog, my wingspan was shorter than the Wandering Albatros and my backside wasn’t as stripy as Okapi. Which all leads me to believe that if I want to win Gold at anything, anytime soon, I need to move to the zoo to be pumped full of whichever Performance Enhancing Drugs the zookeepers have access to. I felt stupid being outwitted by a frog. Really, really stupid. But at least I beat my Dad.

*You do only have one wedding don’t you? It’s just that having booked both the church and the reception venue there is apparently so much still to do. How? I would like to know how?

September 7, 2011
7 Reasons That It’s Great to be Back

We’re back! We’ve been away and while we’ve been away things have happened and that was lovely. But now we’re back, and it’s great to be back. Here are seven reasons why.

1. We’re Bigger And Better. Since we’ve been away, we’ve grown. Now we’ve come back bigger and better than ever. Bigger because Marc has used the holiday to practice his eating, and better because…well, we’re bigger than ever. More is more.

2. We’re A Force For Good. Last week we did the Osama Bin Laden gag to end all Osama Bin Laden gags and now he’s dead. Coincidence? We think not. There’s no telling what we’ll be able to bring about next just by poking fun at it. We’re hoping it’ll be untold riches or a book deal or something, but if we inadvertently end global poverty, homophobia or Masterchef then so-be-it. We make things happen.

3. We Keep France Honest. Ever alert, ever vigilant, the 7 Reasons team (well, Jon, he’s nearest) is keeping an eye on France. Now that 7 Reasons is back, there’s almost no Frenchist act of treachery or stupidity that you won’t get to know about. You’ll hear it right here first. It’ll be like being in Paris but with tea and no glass pyramid. Unless you have a glass pyramid in your house which, on balance, would be very weird. Why would you have one of those? Why?

4. We Give You A Sense Of Purpose. We post every day. Without fail*. So when 7 Reasons appears in the morning/afternoon/evening/at bedtime (delete as appropriate based on location/how slowly the team are writing that day) you know it’s a day. And that it’s a different day to yesterday. And to tomorrow, though you won’t know that until tomorrow is today, which is when a new 7 Reasons post appears. Yay!

5. We Are Refreshed, Rejuvenated, Reinvigorated And Many Other Words That Begin With Re. Before we took a break we said that we would come back more creative and so far today we’ve looked at the ceiling for a bit. We’ve also come up with a new blog idea called Lunch Wars in which we post pictures of our lunches and Lunch Wars readers get to vote for their favourite. It’s the ultimate lunch-versus-lunch death-match to the death; the most awesome epic sandwichy battle you’re ever likely to see; a titanic struggle of biblical proportions in which two sandwiches – two trained, honed butties at their physical peak – go head to head in colossal combat…

6. We Need To Do This. Because the 7 Reasons team have wives and children and fiancés and parents and siblings and nephews and nieces and cousins. And a friend. And when we’re not busy reasoning here, we’re busy hanging out with them and talking about sandwiches. And they need a break from us. They’ve grown haggard over the last fortnight. Haggard. And they get very upset when their sandwiches lose.

7. We’re Shiny And New. Look! Look around**, we’ve revamped almost everything. There’s stuff that lights up and stuff that moves and stuff that changes colour and probably stuff that stays still too. And there’s some stuff over there. Just look around and click on things. You can’t wear them out (hopefully). Go forth and look at the shiny-shiny. We’ll be back tomorrow***.

*With some fail.

**If you’re reading this on your Kindle stop looking around.

***Today?

May 3, 2011
7 Reasons To Join A Cult

The story of how 7 Reasons formed is not your traditional one. We won’t go into great detail other than to say we met because we were both in a cult. But don’t worry, this cult didn’t involve righteous killing or licking frozen chickens. Anything but. This cult was a friendly one. A cult where American architects sent dragons to newsreaders and people across the land turned the ferret gold. I am sure you are now seeing the light, but if you are still slightly unsure here are seven more reasons to join that cult.

Richard Bacon Was A Cultish Leader

1. New People. A cult is different from exclusive clubs such as The Masons because it is open to all. As a result you will meet a rich and diverse group of individuals from all walks of life. Plumbers, writers, lawyers, singers, doctors, engineers, buskers, perverts. You’ll meet the lot. And because you leave all your prejudices at the door when you enter the cult, you’ll form a bond with each and everyone of them. The most hardened Tory will find joy in conversing with the most radical Socialist. Millwall supporters will appear fluffy and cute. Formerly disgraced Blue Peter presenters will be forgiven. And that sort of thing only ever happens in a cult.

2. Opportunity. Unlike your place of work, there is no hierarchy in a cult. Or, if there is, you can very easily destroy it. You can be anyone you want to be in a cult. You can be a wallflower if you wish, or you can be a leader of men. And women. No one minds. If you are the type of man who has access to both foil and a cat (Marc) you may wish to see if one will walk over the other. But what if you don’t? What if you don’t have foil? Or a cat? What if you are a person in one of those moods and fancies taking the mick out of your leader (Jon)? Well you can do that too. And whats-more, whichever route you choose, whatever you decide to do, you will be celebrated. You will be held in high esteem. You may well start a website.

3. Reward. When you have gone out of your way to entertain those amongst your cult, it is nice to be rewarded. And nothing rewards quite like a cult. Apart from the adulation and admiration from those around you, you may also receive a badge. Or a small motorbike. But it’s usually a badge. And when I say a badge, I don’t just mean a badge, well, obviously I do, because it is a badge, but it’s also more than that. It’s more than a badge. It’s what the badge stands for. It doesn’t just say, ‘Hey, I’m in a cult’, it says, ‘Hey, I’m part of a cult’. And that’s, you know, pretty damn special.

4. Help. Whether you are at school trying to write your Personal Statement or in lying in bed ill, the cult is there to help you. Admittedly, you might not get it right all the time. All your advice may just confuse the lad and mean he misses out on that place at Cambridge University, but no one can accuse you of not trying. For all your failures, you will have hundreds of successes. Like I said earlier, the cult we were in helped turn the ferret gold. But while that was great, it is more the fact that people were there to help turn the ferret gold than the actual turning. And it was the ferret himself who first shared these sentiments. He was right.

5. Meaning. It is very easy to wander along in life, working nine to five and waiting for the weekend. There is nothing wrong with that, but joining a cult will give your life purpose. It’ll mean something to you and, more importantly, you’ll mean something to the cult. It’ll give you direction and hope and love. And let’s face it, there is very little direction, hope and love out there at the moment. Your work isn’t going to give it to you, so why not give the cult a chance?

6. Outside. When you join a cult, you join in trepidation. This is only natural. A cult, after all, has a reputation for being dark and evil and thus it is perfectly understandable if you are initially nervous. No one enters thinking they may leave with a new life. But many do. Many leave with new friends. Some leave with new girlfriends or boyfriends or both. Others leave with ideas. The rest just go to sleep. No one thought this would happen when they joined. No one expected their life to change. But it can. It does. Sure, not all friendships and relationships last, that’s life, but for a moment in time they were very real. And it was the cult that gave you that happiness. Without it, it would never have happened. Obviously, some relationships do last. Like 7 Reasons. A monster that will never be slayed.

7. Death. Eventually, sometimes for reasons outside of your control, your cult will die. You will attend the funeral (or listen to it on the radio) and be filled with deep sadness. But when you come to reflect, you realise the cult hasn’t really died. You just can’t listen to it on BBC Radio 5 Live anymore. It still lives though. In your heart. And on YouTube. You still have the memories of your leader being portrayed as Hitler. You can still listen to the music of the cult’s house band and indeed of the one you may well call T He Digger. You still have the vision of chair legs being broken by that woman who stood on a plinth for a couple of weeks. You still remember that moment when you were denied from asking Chris Evans whether his gingerness had been a help or hindrance. And these thoughts will stay with you forever. No one can take them away from you. And you’ll always be thankful that you could never get to sleep before 00:30.

So, if there is one thing you should spread this Christmas season, it is the joy of the cult.

Thankyou. Jonathan Lee, in the lounge, with his badge.

December 22, 2010
7 Reasons Not to Hate The British

We didn’t make this – the internet sent it to us, and jolly good it is too. If we were in the habit of coming up with an eighth reason we could add that we’re not French. But we don’t come up with an eighth reason. That’s not our job. We only do seven. Or, sometimes, five with with a lot of extra-shiny-words to distract you. Not eight though. That would be unthinkable.

March 20, 2010