7 Reasons

Tag: Geri Halliwell

  • 7 Reasons To Love The Statesman!

    7 Reasons To Love The Statesman!

    Apart from waking up to the news that it is both International Women’s Day and Pancake Day, you may have also heard that 28,000 Police jobs are – in all likelihood – going to be cut. If your reaction to this news is one of fear, you need not worry. A new crime fighting force is out there. The UK’s answer to Kick-Ass is a real-life superhero. Let me introduce you to… The Statesman!

    The Statesman - A UK Superhero

    This powerhouse of a man is out there, right now – in Birmingham – protecting us. Protecting us all. Do we need 7 Reasons to love him? Of course we don’t. Are we going to give you 7 Reasons anyway? Well, obviously. Here they are:

    1.  Costume. The last person to try and spread a little love by wearing a Union Jack outfit was Geri Halliwell. The Statesman, though, has the eye mask to go with it. Which in my opinion makes all the difference. Everyone likes a superhero who can effectively combine fierce loyalty to his country with a bit of camp mystery.

    2.  Utility Belt. Savlon? Check. Plasters? Check. Maglite? Check. Swiss Army Knife from that Christmas cracker? Check. Let’s be honest, Superman was great, but he never took a strip of Elastoplast with him. The Statesman does. And a tube of Berocca to help the inebriated among us.

    3.  Moustache. The last time I saw something like this it was Movember 2009 and I was looking in the mirror. I scared people that month. Which only leads me to believe that The Statesman must scare baddies 24/7/365. Awesome man, just awesome!

    4.  Persuasive. Until the identity of The Statesman was splashed all over The Sun, his girlfriend thought he was off playing poker every night. Whether she ever questioned his choice of attire is, at present, unknown, but I suspect she did. I can only conclude therefore that The Statesman is a very persuasive chap. And let’s be clear about this, when you are faced with two bad men, each with a crowbar, the best way of unarming them is the mighty skill of persuasion.

    5.  Allies. That’s right, he has friends. Possibly in high places. Possibly in phone boxes. Possibly in the back of the Satesmobile. It doesn’t really matter where they are, the fact is they are out there. Fighting. Fighting for us. So go out, wear your bling, leave your car doors open, nothing bad will ever happen.

    6.  Weapons. There’s no gun, taser or baton sticking out of The Statesman’s trousers. He is unarmed. Well, except for his quick wit and boxing mitts. Given that gangs have ready access to a variety of kitchen utensil you have to applaud The Statesman’s ‘no violence’ approach. If only wars were fought in such a way.

    7.  Heart. Many superheroes are pre-occupied with fighting, not The Statesman though. If there is no crime to be fought, he’ll happily help the drunk across the road or give a blanket to a homeless person. A clever villain would probably try and use such a scenario as a diversion tactic, but I just have a sneaking suspicion that The Statesman will be ready for such an eventuality. He’s a superhero after all.

  • 7 Reasons Everyone And Everything Should Have Auto-Tune

    7 Reasons Everyone And Everything Should Have Auto-Tune

    You don’t have to be interested in the X-Factor to know about autotunegate or whatever it is called. I am the living proof of that. To be honest, I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Auto-tune is good. It makes things bearable. Just think how good life would be if everything and everyone had auto-tune.

    7 Reasons Everyone And Everything Should Have Auto-Tune

    1.  Annoying Voices. No more high-pitched Joe Pasquale shrieking. No more Andy Murray monotones. No more confusing regional accents. No more chavs. Just a straightforward English accent that everyone can understand.

    2.  The Monarchy. They are bit like marmite. You either love them or you hate them. Or you are indifferent to them – as I suspect at least 90% of the world’s population is to marmite. I have long thought that the hate for the Monarchy is borne out of their accents. They are well-spoken. Which immediately alienates anyone who pronounces ‘Good Morning’ as ‘Alright fella’. If a member of the Monarchy had auto-tune they would be able to walk into The Tattooed Arms, order a bevy and become darts team captain before the end of the night. ‘Bonnie’ Prince Charlie then really could become the people’s King.

    3.  Movie Accents. My top three awful movie accents in ascending order. Kevin Costner in Robin Hood. Mickey Rooney in Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. Horrendous. The lot of them. And no, Dick Van Dyke’s cockney does not fall into the category of, ‘so bad it’s quite charming’. It’s not charming. It’s mute-button inducing. And it will always haunt me. Everytime I look at a chimney.

    4.  Polystyrene. Arrrrrggggggggghhhhhhh! Which git invented a material that not only feels like…erm…polystyrene, but also sounds like Alan Carr on helium when rubbed?*

    5.  Nails On A Chalkboard. Arrrrrggggggggghhhhhhh! (Again). Auto-tune would turn this into the Intermezzo from ‘Cavalleria Rusticana. Or the theme tune to Postman Pat. Anything really. Just not nails on a chalkboard. Or polystyrene. Or Joe Pasquale. Or Dick Van Dyke. Or Aqua’s Barbie Girl.

    6.  The French. It’s not the fact that I don’t like them, it’s the fact that whatever is said in a French accent sounds sexy. At no point should, ‘I take the cat and I put it in the bin,’ sound at all sexy. Yet, said with Frenchness, it does. Have a go. (Insert you speaking in a French accent here). See? What you’ve just done is wrong. The French accent should therefore be auto-tuned to English. ‘I take the cat and I put it in the bin,’ will never sound sexy in a Coventry burr.

    7.  Nuclear Warning Siren. I hope I never get to hear it for real. At least not in the next year. (There’s the Ashes and two world cups for England to win). But just supposing for a minute that I did hear it. There is a fair chance it might be the last thing I ever hear. I therefore want to go out in as relaxed a mood as possible. Not listening to something that sounds like a dolphin being drilled through the eye. The Nuclear Warning Siren should therefore be auto-tuned. Then we can all fall asleep listening to Geri Halliwell being penetrated by a unicorn.

    *I can see what you might be thinking here. You have the wrong end of the stick.**

    **I can see what you might be thinking here. You’re a pervert.