Tag: funny

7 Reasons That Kim Jong Il Is The Ideal Pet

Hello dear reader! At 7 Reasons, we’re not afraid to admit when we’re wrong and today, we do just that. Once, we were of the opinion that the Komodo dragon was the ideal pet but, though that would be amazing, we’ve realised that there is a superior one. It’s Kim Jong Il. Here’s why.

1. Kim Jong Il Comes In Many Colours. Whatever your interior colour scheme; whatever hue and shade your decor, there’s a Kim Jong Il to blend in perfectly with it. Even if it’s beige.

2. Kim Jong Il Is Independent. Don’t want a needy pet that requires you to take it out for walks or let it in and out five times per hour? Kim Jong Il is ideal: He comes with his own man-flap.

3. Kim Jong Il Annoys The Neighbours. All the best pets annoy the neighbours, whether it’s next-door’s dog barking at all hours, next-door’s cat pooing in your flower bed or next door’s snake being a snake in close proximity to you. Kim Jong Il does this too.

4. Kim Jong Il Is Loved By Women. That’s important in a pet. After all, they’re usually the ones that end up looking after them once the children grow tired of the responsibility. Surely there isn’t a woman alive that wouldn’t jump at the chance to care for Kim Jong Il.

5. Kim Jong Il Is Good With Children. This is an important consideration when choosing a pet. You need a pet that can help teach them social skills and engender a sense of playfulness in them. That pet is Kim Jong Il.

6. Kim Jong Il Makes Everyone Happy. Everyone loves the warm, fuzzy joy of pet-ownership (it’s one of the reasons we have them). They bring delight and wonder into our lives and spread happiness and warmth wherever they go. So does Kim Jong Il.

7. Kim Jong Il Is Easy To Feed. While other pets have special dietary requirements and often need to be fed expensive and exotic foodstuffs, Kim Jong Il prefers a simple diet of radishes.*

So there you go. Kim Jong Il is the ideal pet. The only drawback is that you might occasionally have to see this.

Seems a small price to pay. So let’s all go out and get a Kim Jong Il. Is a home really a home without one?

*Or sometimes fresh lobsters that he has airlifted to his train whenever he’s away travelling.

**For fans of looking at Kim Jong Il looking at things, this is the place to go.

June 2, 2011
7 Reasons Product Names Are Important

A little bit of schoolboy humour for you today. It’s crass, it’s not very clever, but it’s easy. And you might just find it some light relief after yesterday’s telling-off. You may well have heard the story of Chevrolet’s Chevy Nova. The car that didn’t sell because the word ‘nova’ roughly translates as ‘doesn’t go’. Well, today we look at seven other products whose names just don’t seem appropriate. Basically, every thing’s to do with sex.

1. The Antidote To Viagra.2. Australians Should Know.

3. Pocket Games.

4. The Japanese Like Hairy Knees.

5. No Flicking Straight To The End.

6. Oral Stimulation.

7. Girl Repellent.

May 27, 2011
7 Reasons That The UK Should Ban Carlsberg

1. Retaliation. Relations between the UK and Denmark have long been difficult.   From the eighth to the eleventh centuries they invaded us; in the nineteenth century we confiscated their navy, and in the twenty-first century they sent Nicklas Bendtner to lumber around our football fields and sulk like a moon-faced twelve year old girl. A giant moon-faced twelve year old girl. Now, however, they’ve gone too far. They’ve banned that quintessentially British spreadable yeast extract, Marmite from their country. The time to act is now and we need to ban something in return. We can’t ban bacon, because half of the 7 Reasons team will cry and we can’t ban Lego for exactly the same reason. The only thing left is Carlsberg.

2. Strength. The standard Carlsberg is an okay and quite drinkable lager (for a mass-manufactured one). Sadly, however, we don’t get that in the UK. We get an insipid watery thing brewed specially for us. It’s horrible and pointless. If you wanted to get drunk, you’d have to consume so much of it that your bladder would swell to the size of a small hatchback before you felt the teeniest bit light-headed. And that’s the moment that your small hatchback would probably be involved in an accident. With a boat.

3. Taste. The flavour of the UK Carlsberg lager is…well…in there somewhere. You can definitely tell that you’re drinking something that was once in the same country as some malt and some hops. Briefly. But going on an epic search to find the flavour in the beverage that you’re drinking is frustrating and pointless. And we already have a drink like it in the UK, it’s called water. It’s cheaper (unless you’re a family with a meter) and you don’t have to go out and buy it, it’s already there in your own home; in the taps. And it might already have been drunk by a celebrity like Elton John or Ryan Giggs, so it carries a greater celebrity cachet.

4. It Comes In A Green Tin. And I don’t like green tins. I just don’t. Never have, never will. I’m perfectly within my rights to dislike green tins and it’s not at all irrational. After all, we live in a country where it’s considered perfectly normal behaviour to dislike otherwise perfectly good people because of what vehicle they choose to commute in/on, what football team they support and the brand of shoe they choose to wear. So my hatred of green tins is far more rational than the cultural norm. Let’s get rid of the little green tins.

5. Because It’s Bad For You. Marmite was banned from Denmark because it contains additives: It’s unnaturally potent. But are the parks and playgrounds and municipal seating areas of Copenhagen littered with – often apparently lifeless – ruddy-faced and dishevelled men clutching half full* jars of Marmite in their limp, grimy hands? No. Those men are over in the UK, clutching cans of Carlsberg Special Brew**.    Because that too is unnaturally potent and unlike Marmite, which is good for you, it seems to be quite detrimental to the health.

6. Because They Keep The Good Stuff To Themselves. For Carlsberg make an amazing beer: a strong, rich, malty lager-beer with brilliant sharp hoppy notes. It’s called Elephant – named after one of the gates to their Copenhagen brewery – and can I get hold of it in the UK? Can I buggery. It would be easier to get hold of an actual elephant, and possibly more fun too. I could keep it in the garden and train it to stand on my next-door-neighbour’s car. If we banned Carlsberg, my frustrating and usually fruitless search for Elephant would come to an end.

7. Because Of The Adverts. Carlsberg’s advertising is brilliant. It’s high-budget, has consistently great production values and is usually very, very memorable.   But if we have to suffer every last epically dull and unoriginal bore mindlessly parroting, “Carlsberg don’t do *****(those asterisks are to suggest blankness, we’re not subject to a superinjunction)…but if they did….”, every time they see something they’re enthused by, because they believe it passes for original wit, that’s too high a price to pay for it. Let’s ban Carlsberg: We’d get revenge, lose crap beer, drink more water, rid ourselves of green tins, have healthier tramps and I’d be able to ride an elephant to the pub, where I wouldn’t be tempted to punch a dullard. You know it makes sense. Sort of.

*Or half empty, you decide.

**As manufactured by Chaka Khan.

May 25, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Cash Peters is Awesome

It’s Saturday and, as is traditional at the weekend, the 7 Reasons team are off somewhere avoiding DIY and trying not to see the inside of a shoe shop. So, sitting up straight in an immaculately pressed dinner jacket on the 7 Reasons sofa today poised to inform, educate and entertain us, is regular guest poster, Dr Simon Percy Jennifer Best. Take it away Simon.

Many of you won’t have heard of Cash Peters. If you are one of these people, you’re missing out. He is awesome. Here’s why.

1. Television Reviews One of Cash’s jobs is reviewing US television for the BBC Radio 5 Live programme, Up All Night, though sometimes reviews appear to be an afterthought during his weekly twenty five minute slot. He talks about a seemingly random assortment of stuff including; the neighbours he suspected of being in a witness protection programme, burying a lady’s dog behind his garage, the ghost in his house, celebrity encounters in LA, the space shuttle and Idaho. But it is when reviewing television that he is at his best. He described Downton Abbey as “Upstairs Downstairs with a bit more upstairs” and the ABC show Skating with the Stars as “Rather like Dancing with the Stars, except with no dancing and no stars”. He has also managed to mock Piers Morgan about the slump in his ratings. Cash Peters is awesome because his TV reviews are laugh out loud funny.

2. Longevity. Cash’s regular BBC 5 live slot has been running for thirteen years. This is an impressively long time for any radio feature where things generally last for a few weeks or, if they’re really special, about a year before being dropped. The only other slot that has been running this long on late night radio is Dotun Adebayo’s Virtual Bookshelf.* Despite this Wogan-esque longevity Cash still has all his own hair, has never worn a cardigan, and the slot still feels fresh and interesting. Cash Peters is awesome because his slot – though long lasting – remains vibrant.

3. Location, Location, Location. Cash is probably most famous, worldwide, for his all-too-short-lived travel show: Stranded with Cash Peters. In this show, he travelled to lots of exotic locations and basically lived rough. However, that isn’t why he’s is awesome, it’s his radio broadcasting that marks him out. After using a studio in LA for years (where he was basically squatting) he switched to broadcasting from home. At first he did this from inside his sauna, until it was discovered that this made him sound like he was talking from inside a small wooden box.** He now broadcasts from his living room floor surrounded by cables and his laptop. He has to put up with numerous technical difficulties but despite this he always entertains. Cash Peters is awesome: He is his own sound engineer, producer and studio manager.

4. Timing. Cash’s slot on BBC Radio 5 Live is broadcast on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning at 2:35 am. This is not exactly a prime time slot. It is, however, the prime slot for insomniacs, lorry drivers, shift workers and milkmen. All you get on TV at this time is Quiz Call, reruns of Bergerac and Countryfile with sign language. However, the fact that he is on in the middle of the night and doesn’t get the recognition or listenership that he deserves doesn’t diminish his enthusiasm or the originality of his material. Cash Peters is awesome because he’s brilliant on radio when the rest of the world is asleep.

5. Diet. Cash Peters likes cake. “Big deal” you might say, “So do I”. Cash eats a lot of cake: Then every so often he does a liver flush or a master cleanse, which is basically a two week regime of torturing your body to discover you have been walking around with a conga eel, a vat of grease and a sizeable quantity of Inca gold in your gut. Cash purges himself, blogs about it, and tells you how healthy he feels as a result. He’s so evangelistic and compelling on the subject that he gets right up to the point of making you think it is a good idea, before he returns to the cake, hamburgers and buffet food, which makes everyone else feel better despite not having been through a liver flush. Cash Peters is awesome because, unlike other celebrities, he is not on a constant guilt inducing diet.

6. Travel. Cash is also a travel writer and broadcaster (or rather he was, he’s now given it up for life in LA with his partner, his cats and his ex-ghost***). He has authored two books, Gullible’s Travels and Naked in Dangerous Places. The second is connected with the TV series Stranded with Cash Peters (currently showing on Discovery Travel and on Living at 5 am and 5:30 am respectively (see what I mean about a milkman’s prime time viewing?)). In these books Cash went to such enticing places as the Museum of Dirt, the Precious Moments Chapel and even further afield to Vanuatu and Alaska. He says on the cover of one book that he eats little and is allergic to just about everything, but still he went and, what is more, he wrote about going. I don’t think he features on the Solvang, California tourist board’s Christmas card list but that is a small price to pay. Cash Peters is awesome because he visited lots of inhospitable, godforsaken and frankly boring places so that you and I don’t have to.

7. Listener Engagement. Cash often jokes with Rhod Sharp (the venerable presenter of Up All Night) that, given the timing, their slot only gets fifteen listeners. This isn’t false modesty but their genuine belief. Sort of. One day Cash set out to find these 15. Not only did he find them (via the medium of Twitter) but he assigned them numbers and established a list. Unsurprisingly the list grew beyond the original 15. Cash has promised to use these listeners to storm town hall meetings, picket book-signings by celebrities, or just to disrupt a taping of Strictly Come Dancing. I for one am looking forward to going for Craig Revel Horwood with a pitchfork. So what if you’re not on the list? Well this is just an example of how Cash engages with his listeners . He’s responds to those fans who tweet him and write into the show. Last year a listener – Brit Homes – wrote to Rhod complaining about the “rubbish programmes” Cash reviews. Did Cash listen to her points and respond in a calm and reasoned manner? Not a bit of it. Cash’s response was the withering: “Well Brit, you clearly have no taste”. Cash Peters is awesome because he engages with his listeners, both positively and negatively but always to the benefit of those he interacts with and always in an entertaining manner****.

*Actually it’s only be going for about six months it just feels like it’s been running since Jimmy Young was on the BBC home service.

** This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He was doing exactly that.

*** They don’t have a ghost anymore, they had their house cleansed.

****Yes Brit I do believe that you needed to be told you have bad taste.

May 14, 2011
7 Reasons The News of the World Should Hack My Phone

Breaking News: Sienna Miller has received a payout of £100,000 in damages from the News of the World as compensation for hacking her phone. This seems like a nice bit of business for her, but not such a good deal for them. But I have a better one. I would like to propose that the News of the World hack my phone as I believe it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. Here are seven reasons why.

1. It Would Be Easier. I don’t mind the News of the World hacking my phone. I’ll quite happily consent to it (on my terms). That means that you’ll have to spend a lot less time and money on skulduggery and post-hacking legal fees. Sure, there’ll be less exposure if it’s legal, but the savings will more than offset the loss of free publicity. And the News of the World will be able to stop reporting on the goings on at the News of the World every week, so your staff would be able to get out of the office and get some fresh air. They’d like that. You’d have a happier, healthier work force.

2. It Would Be Different. The tabloid papers are full of stories telling us what celebrities are wearing on the beach and it’s always a bikini that reveals super sizzlin’ so and so’s superb post-baby beach bod/frumpy formerly fab actresses new-found flab/supermodel’s cellulite horror! (delete as appropriate). I don’t own a bikini and display none of those things on the beach so would be a genuine point of difference for your paper. Surely there are people out there that would rather see pictures of a man on a beach dressed in a shirt, jeans and a sensible pair of brogues cavorting with a bag of chips or pointing at a donkey. I also make sandcastles.

3. It Would Benefit My Friends And Family. And that’s important. As a fellow practitioner of the Jonathan-Lee-Method-of-Telephonic-Acknowledgement, I too ignore the phone a lot, as I’m usually busy doing something else; often something to do with writing, babies or writing about babies. This means that I can be quite hard to get hold of. If you hacked my phone then everyone that calls me for information would be able to keep up with what I’m doing in your newspaper and there’d be fewer calls for me to ignore. That would greatly benefit both my friends and the woman with the monotone voice that tells me how many messages I have. She must be quite tired of it.

4. It Would Benefit Me. I often don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or where I’m supposed to be on any given day and my life seems to be an endless whirl of almost-missed appointments and sudden changes of plan. If my phone was hacked, I could read about what I was supposed to be doing that day in the morning paper. That would be a big help. That would save me from buying the diary that I never use once a year and it would save my wife from leaving notes stuck to the espresso machine for me to find in the morning.

5. It Would Be Interesting. I’ll level with you: I know almost nothing about Sienna Miller. She probably spends her time swanning about* in yachts and near red carpets in a gown; I just don’t care enough to find out. I do, however, know loads about myself so it stands to reason** that I’m more interesting than Sienna Miller. Who wouldn’t prefer to find out about the lifestyle of a York-based, tiramisu-obsessed father and humourist? I visit quilt museums and send texts about the war. That’s the sort of stuff that will really shift papers.

6. It Would Generate An Additional Revenue Stream. About 60%*** of my voicemails are from people asking where I am, usually because I’m late or in the wrong place or forgot I was supposed to be somewhere because I didn’t write it down/have time to make a coffee. With phone location and Google Maps though, it would be possible for a live Marc-location to be streamed on the News of the World website. At any given moment readers could find out where I was. I could find out where I was. And where I’d been too. I could also pretend to be a glamorous international gadabout by posting my phone to friends overseas. I’d like that, and the subscribers to the Marc-Locator, the Map-o-Marc, the Marc-o-Loco-Tron (I’ll work on the name) would doubtless find it thrilling. I’d definitely subscribe.

7. I’m Cheaper Than Sienna Miller. I’d quite happily settle for £50,000 to have my phone hacked by Rupert Murdoch. For that, he can have the voicemails, the text messages, the live GPS location, the conversations with my sister about how to dismantle a travel cot and the pictures my wife takes of the cat when I foolishly leave my phone unattended. At £50,000, I’m a bargain. Hack me!

*Free bonus link!

**If we don’t subject this statement to a rigorous analysis.

***Made up figure: I’m not so dull that I spend my time cataloguing and categorising my voicemail messages.

May 13, 2011
7 Reasons Blackout Blinds Are Surprisingly Effective

My wife and I are trying to train our child to recognise the difference between day and night at the moment and the latest weapon in our armoury is a blackout blind: a blind which prevents any light coming through the window. This, we not unreasonably thought, would prevent our six-week old son waking up at 5am when sunlight streams through our East facing bedroom window and would help him get into a settled routine of sleeping at night. So far, it has proved effective (after a fashion).

1. Fitting. As the member of the 7 Reasons team that is competent at DIY I envisaged that there would be no problems installing our blind, and I was almost correct. It was incredibly simple to fit, with only a bit of light drilling required. And it was simple right up until the moment – while I was balanced precariously atop a step-ladder – that everything went dark. Not just dim, you should understand, but dark. Preternaturally dark. Darker than spending a dark night in the darkest room of the Prince of Darkness wearing a sleeping mask. Darker than anything ever. There was no light. “Help!” “Help!” I called until my wife came up the stairs and opened the door, flooding the room with light from the hallway. “It all went dark”, I explained to a sceptical wife who couldn’t comprehend – or didn’t believe – that something as insubstantial as a piece of material could block out all light. I climbed down from the ladder with my reputation for DIY prowess, if not my dignity, intact.

2. Baby’s Bedtime. In the evening our son fell asleep before we expected him to and, rather than look a gift horse (or a sleeping baby, which is a very similar creature to a gift horse) in the mouth, we decided we would put him to bed right then. We gingerly carried him up the stairs and swaddled him in his cot. We began to sneak out of the room and paused to close the blind on the way. Everything went black. We couldn’t see a thing. We partially raised the blind again so that we could find the light switch and turned on the light so that we could see the door and find our way out. This woke the baby. Bugger.

3. Mummy’s Bedtime. Eventually, we were able to get our son back to sleep and, quite soon after, my wife snuck up to bed. I have little idea what happened, but after a couple of minutes, from my position in the room below, I heard a loud bang, followed about thirty seconds later by the noise of the baby crying. Then I heard the sound of my wife trying to placate the crying baby with a cuddly toy, before my parental selective deafness kicked in and I returned to what I was doing.

4. Daddy’s Bedtime. Eventually, the baby became quiet again and, having spent the remainder of a fascinating evening reconfiguring the 7 Reasons W3 Total Cache plugin and our email servers*, it was time for me to go to bed. I went up the stairs and changed in another room, so as not to disturb anyone. Then I snuck across the landing into the bedroom and closed the door noiselessly behind me. Where once there would have had been some residual light filtering through the blind to aid my navigation across the room, now there was none. I knew roughly where the bed was though, and I took several tentative steps toward it before stumbling over something and letting out an involuntary scream as I lost my balance and landed in a heap on the bed.

5. “AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Shrieked a lump in the bed from beneath me as, in the pitch darkness, a screaming and unknown assailant pounced on her. I groped around for the switch to the bedside light and, finding it quickly, turned it on. I looked behind me to see what was on the floor. “Are you drunk?”, the now slightly calmer lump in the bed enquired. “I fell over an owl,” I replied.

6. “WWWWAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!” Said a tiny voice from the other side of the room reacting to the sudden light. Eventually we were able to get him back to sleep.

7. Sleep. I was unaware of what occurred during the remainder of the night. I have since been told that the usual cycle of the baby waking up and requiring feeding and changing carried on unaltered by the loss of the light. I was told that this morning when, after what I can only describe as the most blissfully tranquil sleep of my life, my rather tired looking wife shook me awake and informed me it was 11am and that we were going to be late for our lunch appointment. “But it can’t be”, I replied, “It’s still pitch black”.

So there you have it. Blackout blinds do work, and you can use them to lull the unsuspecting into sleeping longer and later. They just don’t work on babies.

*I had hoped to watch a couple of episodes of Bergerac. We sacrifice a lot for 7 Reasons.

May 11, 2011
7 Reasons That 7 Reasons Almost Didn’t Appear Today

Hello, it’s Monday, Marc here. There was confusion and something got lost in the confusion and other things didn’t happen and the confusion prevailed – and the confusion was all mine, by the way – and it was all my fault. Here are seven reasons that normal service was interrupted by the confusion today.

1. I Forgot. I just forgot. I was awoken by screaming at 5am and I remember thinking two things: Firstly, “Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssseeeee, shut the fuck up!” and secondly, “I definitely posted yesterday, it’s not my turn, I can go back to sleep if my (extraordinarily loud) child shuts up”. I was mistaken. There was no way that anyone was going back to sleep and it was my turn, though I was too sleep-deprived/terrorised by a tiny person to realise that.

2. I Got Distracted. Happy – in my own mind – that I had a day off, I dressed my son in traditional baby garb; a top with ships on it, blue bellbottoms, socks with anchors on them and a sailor’s hat. I outfitted myself in a checked shirt, boots and jeans (essentially, we looked like a sailor and a lumberjack) then, ten minutes later, he peed everywhere and we both had to get changed (not to a builder, a cop or an Indian), but to a less flashily dressed baby and a now slightly nautical – and still a tiny bit damp – grown up.

3. I Relaxed. I just sat about in the sun – it only appears very rarely in Yorkshire (so rarely that we point at it) and soaked up its rays. Not only was it an unusual experience, it also dried the urine-soaked shirt that I was wearing quite effectively, without too much of a smell. At that moment that seemed like something of a victory. It’s nice to be dry.

4. The Health Visitor Came. And she is lovely. So lovely in fact that she complemented our son something rotten on his development and gave us such helpful advice that we invited her back in a fortnight to discuss my son’s belly button. My wife and I actually got distracted by talk of the belly button. I am sorry. Please pity us for what I have become, we used to be interesting people. We could, however, have discussed the belly button all afternoon. Really! Perhaps we did. Well, at least for a couple of hours.

5. Eventually Our Health Visitor Escaped Talk Of The Belly Button. I still had no inkling that it was my day to write and, in the afternoon, we strolled into town en famile. We went to the Chinese supermarket. Well, for me it was a trip to the Chinese supermarket to pick up noodles and sauces and things; for my wife it was a trip to the aquarium, to see the fishes and the lobsters. Fortunately both are housed within the same establishment, so we both had a good time. So did our son, though we don’t know which aspect he preferred yet. Time will tell.

6. Then I Went To The Pub. It wasn’t bath night and, as I still can’t feed our child much, I wandered off and spent a lovely evening in the local with some friends. It was great. Free from the responsibility of parenthood and reasonerhood I just forgot myself and had a great time. I was even awake for most of it, which makes a nice change from my state at home at the moment.

7. Then I Arrived Home. I thought I’d check on how things had gone today, 7 Reasons-wise: I soon found that there wasn’t a post; I checked the archive; I counted stuff on fingers and toes, and suddenly – with horror – I realised that it was my turn. I can only apologise. I mistakenly thought it wasn’t my turn and that I could somnambulate nonchalantly through my day. I was wrong, it was, and I can only apologise dear readers.*

*7 Reasons will return tomorrow, with the competent one at the helm. Sorry.

May 9, 2011
It’s That SPAM Again

It’s Sunday today, so we’ve taken our traditional day away from the reasoning-mine and, as they are often wont to do, our thoughts have turned to food. Now, some time back we brought you what we considered to be the ultimate SPAM recipe – Planked SPAM – but now we’ve unearthed something that has easily trumped Planked SPAM and knocked it into a cocked hat. Whatever that means. Brace yourself! It’s…

Yes, it’s SPAM ‘n’ Beans which is, apparently, exactly right for Saturday night (which is rather a shame as I took my wife for cocktails and to a really good concert in Northern Europe’s largest Gothic Cathedral last night (if only I’d seen this first)). It seems delightfully simple to cook, consisting as it does of two ingredients; SPAM and baked beans. Simply place slices of SPAM in baked beans and cook them on the hob, then serve in some sort of dirty brown pot with congealed sauce oozing over the side. Who wouldn’t be overjoyed to be served this? It seems that the simplest recipes are often the most delicious.*

*Sadly I’m the member of the 7 Reasons team that doesn’t eat meat and – as SPAM is a distant relative of meat – I can’t try it myself. Any readers care to give it a go?**

**7 Reasons will be back tomorrow, without any tummy trouble whatsoever.

May 8, 2011
7 Reasons That We Shouldn’t See The Photograph

Breaking news: The world is debating whether or not to look at a photograph, and here at 7 Reasons we have an exclusive. We have got hold of the picture that you should never, ever see, and we’re going to let you, our thoroughly grown-up readers, decide whether you want to look at it. The 7 Reasons team have viewed this graphic image and it’s fair to say that we were somewhat taken aback. In fact there was gasping and a bit of vomiting. We’re going to post a link to the picture at the bottom of this post but before you go there, let us explain why you shouldn’t look at it.

1. You Don’t Need To See It. Would your life be improved immeasurably by viewing it? No. Quite the opposite, in fact. If you want to look at it, it’s only because of morbid curiosity. You don’t need to see it, and your life will not be enriched by viewing it. Trust us on this, we’ve seen it, and once you see the picture, you cannot un-see the picture. It’s like Pandora’s box except it’s not Pandora’s box, it’s a box belonging to someone else. Don’t look into the box and certainly don’t zoom in on it with your mouse. The RSPCA don’t take that sort of thing lightly. Don’t look into the box!

2. It’s Gruesome. The image is bloody horrible. It’s truly sickening to behold and it will haunt you until your dying day. If you don’t want to see something so abhorrent that you might try to poke your own eyes out with a spoon* don’t look at it.

3. There’s A ‘Hole. A big ‘hole. Where once there was life, now there’s a big gaping ‘hole in the foreground; something vacant. You really don’t need to see the ‘hole. Viewing the ‘hole is a truly hideous and traumatic experience that you can well do without. I would have been better off without ever having seen the ‘hole. You will be too. Don’t look at the ‘hole.

4. It’s Puzzling. It really is. Imagine you’re a Viking and a blue cat wearing jeggings is explaining string theory to you. It’s more confusing than that. And you don’t get to wear a beard or one of those horny hats either.** There is nothing in the world that makes less sense than this image***

5. It’s Graphic. We don’t really know the circumstances under which the photograph was taken; perhaps it was hurried, we don’t know, and frankly we don’t want to think about it any further. But there’s still a fire visible in the background and there’s flesh. Much flesh. It’s apparent that the scent of burning flesh would have been strong when this picture was taken. You don’t need to see that or even think about it. In fact, stop thinking altogether. It only leads to trouble. Don’t think and don’t look at the picture.

6. Side-Effects. We’re reasonably young and healthy here at 7 Reasons**** and we felt unwell when we saw it. So we wondered what this image could do to readers with any underlying health problems and, even though we’re not real doctors, we’ve come to a conclusion via a process of wild speculation and abject conjecture: This image could kill. And dying would be inconvenient as you’ve probably got things to do this afternoon or dinner plans. Don’t look at the picture. And don’t die.

7. Trust. Now we’ve put the link to the picture just below this paragraph and we’re going to let you decide whether to look at it or not. But, before you make that important decision, consider this. If you look at the image, you’ll be doing it for the wrong reasons as – and we’ve made this quite clear – it’s bloody horrible and you don’t need to see it. We hope you’ll trust that the judgement of the 7 Reasons team in this matter is sound and that we have your best interests at heart. So when deciding whether to view it, remember that if you choose to look, you’ll be letting us down and you’ll be letting yourselves down too. Oh, and you should probably lock away your spoons.

Here is the link to the image, don’t click on it.

*Or whatever else you have handy, I don’t know why I assume that all 7 Reasons readers are equipped with a spoon.

**If we do have a Viking reader, imagine you’re a Norman. Or a Gerald.

***Except for the labels in baby clothes that say “Keep away from fire”. Where do clothes manufacturers imagine that people store babies?

****When the health and age of the team is taken as a mean average.

May 5, 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