Tag: hair

7 Reasons That James Blunt Must Be Stopped

You may agree with Dave Cameron; you may follow Nick Thing; you may be a supporter of Mad Elliband; you may be a devotee of that Scottish man with a name like a fish. It doesn’t matter, because there’s one cause that everyone must unite behind: Stopping James Blunt. And be in no doubt whatsoever, James Blunt must be stopped. Here are seven reasons why.

1. Ubiquity. He’s bloody everywhere. On everything. I can’t turn on my television or my radio at the moment without James Blunt being on it. I can’t visit websites – though I’m aware I’m now partially responsible for this – or open newspapers (yes, newspapers, those paper things from the past that existed before this screen in front of you with these words on. He’s in them too) without seeing or hearing him. James Blunt has – in the last fortnight – achieved total, absolute, all-permeating multi-platform media omnipresence. He’s in a magazine somewhere near me right now. And near you. In fact he’s in all of the magazines. Everywhere. All over the place. Being James Blunt.

2. He’s Becoming Weirder. Remember when Tom Cruise seemed normal? No? Well some of us have long memories and he did once. Before he split up with Penelope Cruz; before he started jumping up and down on Oprah’s sofa; before he began espousing odd birthing techniques, Tom Cruise didn’t seem all that weird. But he does now. And the same thing is happening to James Blunt. He used to look and seem relatively at one with the world, but the more I see him, and the more I see him respond to external stimuli (interviews, conversation etc) by grinning inanely and then grinning inanely some more, the more he reminds me of Tom Cruise. Which is the slippery slope to weirdness.

3. His Hair. Have you seen his hair? I’m about to skirt the accepted boundaries of heterosexuality right here and right now, but I don’t care; because James Blunt’s hair used to be lovely. Absolutely fucking lovely. A dark, lustrous, bounteous, luxuriant barnet; a follicular paragon; a mane to rival the legendary tresses of both Samson and Aniston, but have you seen it recently? When he appeared on Have I Got News For You (and Never Mind The Buzzcocks and Daybreak and The One Show and BBC Breakfast and T4 and Something For The Weekend and London Tonight and The Graham Norton Show) it looked like he’d painted a brillo pad orange and stuck it down to his head. I don’t know how this is happening to his hair or why it’s happening; but what if it’s catching? What if it happens to my hair?! Or yours?

Seriously. What has happened here and is it contagious?

4. The Bath. And then last night it all became even stranger. Because, when I was listening to a politics programme on BBC Radio 5Live in the bath (on a rare occasion that it wasn’t full of champagne and dancing girls), they announced that they were about to interview James Blunt. Oh God, I thought. I’m trapped. I’ve just put on my facial mud (for MEN) and now I’m going to be stuck in the bath for twenty minutes listening to James Blunt…again. And I was. And I couldn’t even put my head under the water to cover my ears or to drown myself because of the mud. So I had to listen. And listen I did. I listened to James Blunt recount the time that he disobeyed orders from his commanders in Kosovo and didn’t attack the Russians, thus averting a massive East-West conflict. That’s right, James Blunt saved us from World War III. And while, at the bottom of my heart, I knew that not having a third world war was probably a good and desirable thing, I couldn’t help thinking that if we’d had a third world war, James Blunt would never have been allowed to leave the army and we’d never have had to listen to his music, and he wouldn’t be bloody everywhere; all over the place; even in my bath.

5. The Song. And sure enough, as I lay there unable to escape from James Blunt: Saviour of the World, they played the song. The same song that I’ve heard everywhere, every time that James Blunt has appeared over the last fortnight: You’re Beautiful. The one James Blunt song that I know, apparently the one James Blunt song that everyone knows. There are others, sure, but can you name them? No, and I can’t either. I, a musical man with an enviable collection of music; a man for whom music has been a passion for his entire life. A man who owns all four Electrelane studio albums, and has most of the Os Mutantes albums on original vinyl. I can’t name more than one James Blunt song and neither can anyone else except his fans, and even they can’t do it with any certainty. And having heard it sodding everywhere for the past fortnight (even the Sesame Street version) it came as a blessed relief later on, to turn the television, the computer and the radio off knowing that I would escape from it. And then my wife started humming the bloody thing (having presumably absorbed it through some sort of osmosis) and, while I couldn’t help but agree with her sentiments, it was still the same damned song…again. But off key.

6. Then There’s His Name. James Blunt’s name is James Blunt. That’s right: James Blunt. And you might think to a humourist, that it would offer all manner of potential, but it doesn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact. Because it rhymes with the one word in the English language that you can never, ever use without losing the sympathy of your reader. If he were called James Bluck, James Block, James Blank, James Blick, James Blit, James Bliss, James Blits, or James Brance I might conceivably be able to make fun of him in rhyme. But I can’t. Because his name is Blunt. And do know what’s really annoying about it? It isn’t even his real name. He changed it. His original name is Blount: Pronounced Blunt.

7. And This Is The Worst Part. He seems like a nice guy. A man who, despite being everywhere with his one song irritating the hell out of you, me and all those other people standing about and clogging the pavements, actually seems to have substance. A man who has a mind of his own and is no mere vacuous, avaricious, chancer like many contemporary popular musicians. A man who has served his country in combat and has come out of the experience intact and has forged a successful post-army life for himself; sadly in contrast to many ex-servicemen who often don’t get the support that they deserve and that we owe them. A man who goes back and performs concerts for the troops and is a vociferous advocate of, and fundraiser for, Médecins Sans Frontières. And that makes criticism of him hard. And it probably makes me look like a bit of a count. But please, for the love of god, James. Stop. Enough. We all know we’re beautiful and we need a break now.

November 15, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Muse Are Awesome

Regular readers of 7 Reasons will know that we have a hardcore group of regular guest writers. Marc and I could call them our groupies. But we don’t. We just call them Liz, Simon and Rob. And today it is the turn of Rob again. If you already read his blog, There Is Music In The Breakdown, or follow him on twitter, you will know that he has quite a penchant for Muse. Today we finally get to find out why. Robert. A. Foot, this is your moment.

1. The outfits. Completely non-existent in the frontman, Matt Bellamy. From sporting such catastrophic outfits as ill-fitting suits to his alien waterproof, you know that his outfits during gigs will be extravagant. Then you look to the drummer, Dom Howard, and you see him sporting his favourite superhero costume in a Halloween gig, and you know that these people are either insanely brilliant, or just plain insane.

2. Chris Wolstenholme. The most awesome man to have touched a bass guitar ever. Combine him with a Rickenbacker and a harmonica, and you have several buckets of spare amazing. His epic headbanging antics, his backing vocals and his sheer size, you would be hard pushed to find someone who you’d like to meet more. Except Jennifer Aniston in some cases. Oh, and he does use a bit of slap bass and smokes a pipe.

3. The Instruments. I’d say guitars, but that isn’t all. From the extensive range of custom Manson guitars, Bellamy can choose from a guitar made of an old bomber plane, one with built in lasers and the quintessential red glitter guitar. But, then we have the choice of double neck guitar, keytar and sparkly. My personal favourite: the purple guitar. Yes. Purple.

4. Matthew F****n’ Bellamy. Abnormally short vocal chords, Bellamy can sing insanely high notes, as shown in such tracks as Showbiz and Micro Cuts. He can also play the guitar quite well, even if he is spinning around at several hundred revolutions per minute, or if it’s behind his head. His hair also changes colour/style dramatically every few years.

5. Dominic Howard. A left hander, always a good start in my book, Dom Howard always stands out from the crowd. Whether he’s in fancy dress or wearing a pair of his brightly coloured jeans, he’ll catch your eye one way or another. Finishing each gig with the infamous sign off of “Cheers”, that is the official Dom Howard word. A typical conversation would go, in my mind at least, something like this:

Me: Hi Dom, how’re you doing?

DH: I’m alright, cheers, and yourself?

Me: Everything’s good, Dom. How’s the tour going?

DH: It’s going really well, cheers. We had a great night last week at <insert venue here>, and after it, I just thought, “Cheers guys”, because they were cheering awesome.

Me: So what’s up next for you guys?

DH: Cheers for asking, I’m going to be working on my cheers solo album called “Cheers”. It’s a one track, 68 minute drum solo album, with the one track being called “Cheers” cheers. There have been a few cheers….. etc.

6. Morgan Nicholls. The man behind the several hundred synthy bits in every song, Morgan keeps the band ticking over at all times. Whether it’s his cabasa (not a shaker) playing or playing three notes on the keyboard during Map Of The Problematique, the band simply could not function without him. Unless his wife was due to have a baby during Muse’s stint supporting U2 during their US 360 tour, in which case they can find one of Trent Reznor’s pals to deputise. Apart from those times, he cannot be replaced.

7. The Fans. We’re the best fans in the world. Some people are flying in from America, Australia, Scandinavia, Canada and even York to see them play in their UK stadium tour. Possessing the rare quality of bashing the band endlessly, then reacting with anger when someone else has a little rant, they have on average 300GB* of gig bootlegs on their computer hard drives at any one time, downloading approximately 4TB* of material over their lifetimes. Whatever you say to them, don’t call Muse a rip off of Radiohead to their faces. Just don’t.

*Source: completelymadeupstatistics.com

September 18, 2010
7 (+3) Reasons Why Spain Will Win The World Cup

1. Gerd Muller. German World Cup Winner in 1974. He looked like a girl.

2. Mario Kempes. Argentine World Cup Winner in 1978. He looked like a girl who didn’t care. She probably had hairy armpits too.

3. Bruno Conti. Italian World Cup Winner in 1982. He looked like a butch girl and someone had just stolen her skipping rope.

4. Maradona. Argentine World Cup Winner in 1986. He looked like a petulant girl intrigued by her very first waft of something illegal.

5. Rudi Voller. German World Cup Winner in 1990. He looked like a girl who had just sat on a pile of marbles and was beginning to like it.

6. Branco. Brazilian World Cup Winner in 1994. He looked like a girl who may well once have been a boy. And quite possibly a murderer.

7. Emmanuel Petit. French World Cup Winner in 1998. He looked like a girl who had just caught her reflection in a window and realised her ginger moustache was catching the sun a bit too much.

8. Ronaldinho. Brazilian World Cup Winner in 2002. He looked like a girl who was struggling to get the hang of her straighteners.

9. Andrea Pirlo. Italian World Cup Winner in 2006. He looked like a girl who had accidentally come across a car park full of doggers and just couldn’t take his eyes off it.

10. Carles Puyol. Spanish World Cup Winner in 2010. He looks like the kind of girl who just doesn’t want to be left out.

July 8, 2010
7 Reasons John McEnroe Can Not Be Serious (About His Hair)

With the opening credits of BBC’s 2010 Wimbledon coverage came joy, happiness, extortionately priced strawberries and the horror of John McEnroe’s new hair. I say new hair, it’s probably quite old hair, but it does look different. And not for the better. Here are 7 Reasons – in a nicely packaged video format (just to show I can’t be outdone) – that explain why Mr John McEnroe should not have been tempted to rid the old look.

7 Reasons John McEnroe Can Not Be Serious (About His Hair)

June 23, 2010
7 Reasons The Osmonds Were Right

Today I am offering a public service. To man. By addressing you. The woman. I know man is seen as the least romantic of the sexes, but man still likes to be loved. And, as The Osmonds so wisely stated, he likes to be loved because you actually love him. Not because he’s good with a screwdriver. Something like that anyway. Basically, what I am trying to get at is this. I’ve taken this classic Osmonds tune and edited it. So that you, the woman, will not make mistakes when you tell a man of your reasons for loving him. You’ll thank me one day.

7 Reasons The Osmonds Were Right

Don’t Love Me For Fun Girl, Let Me Be The One Girl, Love Me For A Reason, Let The Reason Be…

1. My DIY Skills. I assure you ladies, telling your man that you love him because he is great with a hammer is not the way to go. Would you like it if man told you that he loved you because you are good at ironing? No. Exactly.

2. My Memory. Don’t tell your man that you love him because he has a great memory. He’ll probably forget. Then you’ll get annoyed that he keeps forgetting. And he won’t know why you’re getting annoyed. And then you’ll split up. So don’t do it. Not if you really love him.

3. My Ability To Be Tall And Reach The Top Shelf In Sainsburys. Man doesn’t mind being tall and actually he is happy that he has some use in the supermarket bar getting in the way and trying to manoeuvre the trolley too fast. But telling him you love him because he’s tall is like him telling you he loves you because you are short enough to get in the attic without bashing your head.

4. My Hair. Facial Hair. Always a delicate one this. And actually you are probably doing yourself a favour by not using it. Man is programmed to reciprocate without thinking. “I love you” is reciprocated with “I love you too”. “I love your moustache” becomes “I love your moustache too”. Not good.

5. My Collection Of Sporting Memorabilia 1994 – Present Day. Man likes his collection of programmes and fixture lists and photos from years ago. It brings back good memories. And he also likes it because you don’t. Man doesn’t share your passion for American Idol or knitting, so don’t share his passion for signed pairs of Gary Lineker worn shorts.

6. My Dislike Of The Lesser Boyzone Version Of This Song. Man likes to think he knows about such topics as music. A woman’s job is to say, ‘Ooh I like this new one from Boyzone’. This gives the man a chance to show off and scoff and say, ‘This isn’t new. This is a cover of a far superior song’. What he does not expect is for woman to switch off the radio and say, ‘Why did Boyzone make such a rubbish cover?’

7. My Marc Fearns Mask. Seriously, man is just going to get very annoyed if you love it when he wears the mask. Unless you are Marc Fearns yourself of course. In which case you’ll probably think it’s a right result.

May 31, 2010
7 Reasons It’ll Be Great Under David & Nick

Yesterday I watched David and Nick in the garden. I don’t know about you, but I kind of liked it. I felt a sense of profound optimism. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I am deluded. Maybe my sense of profound optimism combined with my natural optimism has made me go completely loopy, but I think it might just work. I think it might just be great under Dave and Nick. And here’s why:

1. It’s In The Names. The meaning of David is beloved. The meaning of Nick is victory of the people. That sounds good to me. Incidentally the meaning of Gordon is large fortification. Which probably explains why it took so bloody long to get rid of him.

2. It’s In The Colours. Anyone who went to school and paid attention when they accidentally knocked over the blue and yellow paint bottles, will know that, when combined, they make green*. You know what this means. The environment. David and Nick are going to save us from Global Warming. Caroline Lucas must be furious.

3. It’s In The Hands. As luck would have it, David and Nick seem to favour opposite hands. As the above shows, David likes his right and Nick likes his left. This means of course that they have two spare hands that meet in centre ground. Genius.

4. It’s In The Hair. It may be May, but that means sod all in this country. The weather is still unpredictable/predictably rubbish. As I have pointed out, yesterday David and Nick were in the garden. The sun was out but it was chilly and a tad windy. Miraculously though, for forty minutes, their hair acted superbly. Not once did either of them so much as touch their coiffures. It was the kind of strong, stable hair that this country so badly needs.

5. It’s In The Wives. Neither Samantha or Miriam – that’s Mrs Cameron and Mrs Clegg if you are not on first name terms yet – seem particularly keen on the limelight. Which is good. Because they have a job to do. Run our country. Don’t be fooled, David and Nick don’t really know what they’re doing. And they are married men. Their wives tell them what to do. So for the next five years Great Britain will be run by a creative director and a Spanish lawyer. Mandelson and Campbell, eat your hearts out.

6. It’s In The Looks. It’s quite useful that they are called the cabinet because that is what most of them look like. And so they should. It’s brains you need in politics, not beauty. The last thing we need is for Theresa May to be distracted by a six figure sum to pose naked for Playboy or for Ken Clarke to get his braces off for the centre-fold of Cosmopolitan. Thankfully – for all our sakes – that isn’t going to happen. It’s going to be all work and no play for David and Nick’s boys. And girl.

7. It’s In The Logos. No one in the world has picked up on this yet. But that is why I am me and the rest of you do interesting things with your time. The Conservative logo is a tree. The Liberal Democrat logo is a bird. Birds like trees. It’s where they live. You couldn’t make this stuff up. If this coalition was destined to fail the Liberal Democrat logo would have been an axe. But it’s not. It’s a bird. And David has let it into his foliage. Bravo.

*Yes, if it is pure blue and pure yellow it would turn black, but that’s the point. It’s a coalition. All purity has been thrown out of the window.

NB: I might not believe all of the above nonsense.

May 13, 2010
7 Reasons You Don’t Feel Like a Real Man

Society has a very rigid idea of what constitutes masculinity. Often, our definitions of what is masculine are rooted in the conventions and gender roles of the past, something which makes them unachievable ideals rather than anything tangible, or real, to aspire too. Despite knowing this though, sometimes you feel that you don’t quite measure up. Here are seven reasons that you don’t feel like a real man.

1. You use moisturiser. Using moisturiser doesn’t feel manly. It’s very good at keeping your skin soft and preventing the premature aging of the skin, but it’s not manly. I once moisturised my face, exited the bathroom (which my wife then entered) and tried to open the bedroom door. I couldn’t, as my hands were slick from the moisturiser and I couldn’t grip the doorknob. I was trapped outside the bedroom for five minutes. “This never happened to the captain of the Titanic”, I remember thinking, as I waited for my wife to rescue me. Real men don’t use moisturiser.

2. Facial hair. Real men – Victorian men – sported impressive and elaborate facial hair. Who, apart from Daniel Day-Lewis and Sebastien Chabal, can even grow such magnificent face furniture today? Certainly no one at this website – the best we can manage are a sparse ginger moustache and a slightly less sparse – but still bloody ginger – beard. Modern men also trim their facial hair too much. Real men have natural and wild facial hair – not prissy, neat goatees (and you should never, ever trust a man with a neat beard. Noel Edmonds has a neat beard). Real men do not have neat beards. Real men have substantial, flowing beards that are the same colour as their head-hair. Real men probably don’t even have scissors. In fact, real men probably eat scissors.

3. Coffee. Coffee is an amazing beverage and real men drink it. What real men don’t do, however, is go into Starbucks and order a venti soy-hazelnut-vanilla-cinnamon-white-mocha-choca-latte with caramel and an extra shot of espresso. Real men drink their coffee black, from tin mugs around a fire – or some sort of black-lead-coal-stove-thing with flames and a chimney – and the stronger and viler tasting the coffee is, the better. Also, real men don’t drink their coffee from cups – even if that is the only receptacle that fits into their espresso maker properly – and they don’t have a muffin with it. Not blueberry; not zucchini-walnut. Real men have no muffin.

4. Pain. Real men shrug off pain. Pain isn’t good – it’s er…well…painful – and it can be undignified. It especially hurts when you’re plucking the middle of your eyebrow to pluralise it. That sort of pain is reasonably manageable though. Real pain, however, can only dealt with by real men. I injured my knee last year (in a very manly way – up a mountain). The next day, when I woke up, it really hurt. As I climbed out of bed and put weight on it I suddenly – and quite unexpectedly – shrieked “I yi yi yi yi”, in the manner of Carmen Miranda. Real men don’t react that way to pain; Sir Ranulph Twisleton-Wykeham-Fiennes chopped his own fingers off with a fretsaw in his shed to save himself a six-thousand pound surgeons bill. I bet he didn’t shriek “I yi yi yi yi” like Carmen Miranda – or like anyone else. Never mind exhorting men complaining of pain to “man-up”, they should be told to Fiennes-up (I’m really hoping that will catch on).

5. Décor. You actually care about what the inside of your own home looks like and have an opinion about it too. You have even bought Laura Ashley toile-patterned sheets in both red and blue, because they look nice. Do real men care about soft-furnishings? Did Douglas Bader rearrange the cushions on his sofa and extinguish the scented candles before going off to beat the Germans without his legs? No he bloody didn’t. Real men don’t spend their time cocking about with flock-wallpaper and vases. Nor do they have a set of Le Creuset pans. Real men don’t even need legs.

6. Pets. Real men have real pets – parrots, cats or reasonably-sized dogs. What they don’t have are little dogs that you can put in a bag or rodents, budgies, rabbits, guinea pigs, chinchillas, snakes or fish. They certainly don’t have fish. You can tell a real man by the way he interacts with his pet. No real man names his pet Fluffykins or Pookles. Real men give their pets sensible names. Real men also address their pets properly, rather than clicking at them or making baby-noises. They address them as if they were a visiting chum:

“So Mr Prendegast, the sun has just passed the yard-arm, what would you say to a spot of brandy? What’s that Mr Prendegast? You’re a cat and you don’t drink brandy? Oh I see. Would you settle for some biscuits and a rub under the chin? I’m glad. There’s a good chap.”

That’s how a real man talks to a pet – like an equal. Real men don’t address pets as if they were idiots, or children. They don’t dress them up in clothes or put them in bags. The only time a real man carries a pet is when he wants to put it outside so that it can chase something. He certainly doesn’t give his pet chocolate-drops or a hug. Or give anyone a hug, for that matter.

7. You are a woman. Women don’t feel like real men. They don’t even feel like pretend men. They feel warm and soft. They sound like this:

March 17, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Live In Lagos

Elbowing us out of the way and lounging on our sofa this week is photographer and all round nice gal, Sarah Ansell. Having lived and worked in Lagos between 1995-98 who better to tell us why to live there? Well, maybe someone who lives there right now, but we don’t know any of those. Obviously these reasons are based on her experiences of life there a few years ago and so they may not be an accurate reflection of life there in 2010. But no one is really bothered about that are they? You can view Sarah’s showcase of work over at SarahCanterbury.com. It is well worth the visit.

1. A greater tolerance of the M25. Once you’ve cleared the joy that is Murtala Mohammed International Airport, the first thing that strikes you about Lagos is the driving. And I use that word in its very loosest sense. Go-Slows (their wonderful name for traffic jams) are the norm and as for adhering to something akin to a Highway Code, pah! No such thing! It’s each man (or in my case, woman) for him(her)self. Don’t worry about the direction the traffic is meant to be facing – see a space, take it! Add to this all sorts of delights: habitual fuel shortages; attempting to drive through black fumes churned out by ancient vehicles liable to shed exhaust pipes at any moment (MOTs? Hahaha!); avoiding rust heaps abandoned at the side of the road; passengers leaping on and off buses; road sellers trying to talk you in to that must-have plastic toilet seat purchase; beggars on skateboards; and the occasional dead body (sadly I kid you not). As if this wasn’t enough, all is accompanied by the din of a thousand car horns. The M25 is a doddle after this.

2. Communing with nature. For lovers of wildlife, Lagos is a quite marvellous place to get up close and personal with creatures in a manner you could only dream of back home in Britain. There’s nothing quite like opening your pencil drawer at work and seeing a frantic scurrying of cockroaches to sharpen your hand-eye coordination and speed up those reflexes. Ditto the reaction time on seeing a rat run across your sitting room to hide behind the bookcase when you’re home alone at 10.30 on a Friday night. Or any night for that matter. Also, where else could you have a real live gecko as a wall ornament in your dining room? Lagos is also an excellent place in which to overcome silly phobias – no longer do I run shrieking from teeny tiny spiders (or even the big ones), but embrace them with equanimity. Well, not literally embrace them or they would get squashed and I’d suffer from spider murdering guilt. I should pay homage here, too, to the humble mosquito. Ah, the fun of being awakened from your slumbers by that distinctive whiny noise and having to go into full on Rambo attack mode with a rolled-up newspaper while you’re still half asleep. That’s assuming, of course, that you can locate the bugger.

3. An appreciation of the finer things in life. Baths with clear water in which you are not perched on grains of brown rust doubling as a makeshift mat. Electricity that works (for electricity substitute telephones, lifts, pretty much anything really) and the knowledge that the power isn’t suddenly going to cut out just as Nasser Hussain faces Curtley Ambrose with 2 runs needed off the last ball. PAH! Hairdressers: I never quite summoned up the courage to have my hair cut there, so trips back to the UK every 6 months always began with a hat wearing trip to the hairdressers – a maximum of 30 minutes after arriving home. I have the fondest memories of the subsequent sheer joy of sporting a “do” for the next six weeks that didn’t make me resemble Hair Bear (Google the Hair Bear Bunch if you’re too young to remember him!). Croquet played on the lawn during a weekend trip to the High Commissioner’s residence in Ibadan. I felt very posh. And mushrooms. Oh how I missed mushrooms.

4. The thrill of living on the edge. I appreciate that living on the edge is not exclusive to Lagos, but it is the only place I’ve lived where the excitement of a Friday night trip downtown included being caught up inadvertently in an exhilarating car chase complete with gunfire. Mercifully I wasn’t driving! A G&T in The Red Lion has always seemed a little tame in comparison since. Then there’s living in a compound surrounded by razor wire & patrolled by gate guards; negotiating army & police roadblocks in bulletproof glassed cars (“have you got something for my Easter?”); being bussed to work with an armed policeman and accompanying security vehicle because the office was in a dodgy part of town; and the very real danger of a potential car-jack. All a little removed from nipping out to Sainbury’s on a Tuesday afternoon in February. Just call me Lara Croft!

5. The ability to reinvent yourself. Fed up with your mundane existence? Then change it! You can be whoever you want to be. Just pop along to any street corner and pick yourself a fresh identity, complete with sparkly new passport & a full set of supporting documents. You’ll also be well placed to learn from the finest scammers in the world.

6. A reminder that there’s always someone worse off than you. Lagosians are truly inspiring and I do mean that sincerely – their faith & resilience in the face of adversity is astonishing. Plus they have lots of fab names like Patience, Charity & Blessing and give uplifting names to their businesses. Buying your tin of beans in Goodness & Mercy Enterprises or God’s Favour Enterprises seems so much more edifying than in a store with a name like Lidl (not that I have anything against names like Lidl – I am just using artistic license, you understand). Also, having never lived somewhere before where it took no less than 5 men to drill a hole, I appreciate their inventiveness when it comes to job creation.

7. The lack of snow. It has to be said that it’s highly unlikely you will be bothered by a preponderance of snow in Lagos. That’s a good enough reason all by itself to live there. Though it can get a bit wet at times.

February 20, 2010
7 Reasons To Wear A Cape

1. You’re A Fashionista. This is the fashion. I personally think the above looks a bit silly. And, if you are Louis Vuitton, you probably would too. But as he has been dead for 118 years, I very much doubt he cares that his once burgeoning luggage company has turned into this.

2. Fancy Dress Parties. You are probably wondering why I didn’t write this first? I mean, it is the most obvious reason. I didn’t write it first because it made much more sense to have the reason that worked with the image first. Common sense in my book. Anyway, if you are going to a fancy dress party as a superhero, you must wear a cape. If you don’t you’ll probably be mistaken for that girl from Flashdance.

3. Use As A Hood. It is a well known fact that 87% of all coats don’t have a hood. It’s a bizarre trend, but a fact none-the-less. It’s also a well known fact that 87% of the 100% of people who wear a hood-less coat, forget to carry an umbrella on their person. If 87% of those 87% wore a cape, only 22% of the entire population would ever get a wet head. And that has to be a good thing. Doesn’t it?*

4. Spare Material. A cape has a very practical use. It could be torn up to make an infinite number of tourniquets, Rambo style headbands, bracelets, Christmas tree decorations. You just never know what is around the next corner.

5. You’re A Man. Capes are particularly useful if you like hugging girls. As a general rule, girls don’t like to be cold. With a cape you can invite them into your chest and wrap your cape around them. Smooth. Oh, you can also use it to wipe your nose.

6. You’re A Woman. Now, as you can probably tell, I am not your average man. I pride myself on the fact that I can do at least two things at once. Unless it’s write a 7 Reasons post and spell everything correctly. Women though – so I have heard – can do up to 32 things at once. A cape can help them make that at least 35. They could carry things. Or drag things. Or polish things. The possibilities are endless.

7. You Have Short Hair. Short hair is good as it doesn’t take two and a half hours to dry. Long hair is good if you like whooshing it about from side to side á la L’Oreal adverts. I personally have short hair, but the idea of being able to toss my head from side to side seems somewhat appealing. If I wore a cape it could perform the function of long hair. And it would only take ten minutes in the tumble dryer.

*Calculations are not available for public consumption.

February 9, 2010
7 Reasons to Have an Extra Hand

1. Eating. Eating would be better with an extra hand. Young love-struck couples would be able to eat properly and hold hands at the same time. More established couples would be able to eat properly and repel the advances of their chip-stealing spouse at the same time. Old couples would be able to eat properly and take their pills at the same time. Single people would be able to use all of the cutlery at once.

2. Driving. Driving would be safer if we all had an extra hand. The sort of idiots who use their phone or apply make-up while driving would now be able to do it with their extra hand. Obviously there will be people who would now believe that they can drive with one hand while applying make-up with the second and using their phone with the third. Don’t fret too much about this though. You will be able to use your extra hand to take down their registration number or to gesticulate at them. I shall be using my extra hand to thump my nemesis – the sat-nav. Jennifer Aniston will use her extra hand to touch her hair while driving, while Michael Buble will use his to point.

3. Jugglers. If we all had an extra hand then those smug gits, jugglers, would look silly with their antiquated and inefficient action and the rest of us could taunt them by languidly tossing three things about at once. Hopefully this would cause them to realise they are pointless idiots.

4. Sex. As an Englishman I can’t write about sex without resorting to euphemism. Suffice it to say that with two extra hands couples could simultaneously mash the creamy anvil, startle the somnambulant vicar and unfetter the slobbery lobster. The new tri-sexuality is going to be great!

5. Economy. If we had a third hand the global recession would end*. The clothing industry would be revitalised by having to manufacture extra sleeves and gloves as would agriculture, as we would need a third more sheep, silk and cotton. There would be a boom in making your own clothes as knitting would become much easier and quicker, thus optimising the efficiency of your grandma. It would also require the manufacture of 33.3% more knitting needles. The decimal system would also be replaced as we would find it simpler to calculate things in fifteens. The new quindecimal system would require the manufacture of lots of new signs and equipment. All of this extra manufacturing would cause a global economic boom. The quindecimal system would also cause 7 Reasons to become 10.5 Reasons, which would make two grown men cry.

6. Italians. Italians gesticulate a lot while they talk and are effortlessly cool. With an extra hand they will be able to gesticulate, smoke, drink, look cool, ride a Vespa and eat an ice cream at the same time. They do that now, of course, they’ll just be better at it.

7. Jewellery. With an extra hand, women will be able to wear more rings and bracelets. This will cause them to buy a lot more of them too, leading to an increase in the number of “white lies” told to husbands. Men will wear a second watch with built-in functions other than time-telling: A small television, a compass, a torch, a screwdriver and an extinguisher for their wife’s pants will all be common features.

*Strangely, there is a total lack of research or data available to support this claim.

January 27, 2010