Tag: Humor

7 Reasons That This Is The Greatest Bus Service Ever

Great news for 7 Reasons readers that are also fans of buses! For the third time in our history, we’re writing a bus-related piece featuring – you guessed it – buses!   The reason for this is simple; as reported today, by various news organisations, a brilliant and ground-breaking innovation in the field of public transport has occurred in, of all places Wiltshire (and Hampshire) where residents of Winterslow can now avail themselves of what is effectively a one-way bus service to Andover, on weekdays and weekends. It does go in the other direction too, but the return service departs before the outbound service arrives. Here are seven reasons that this is a brilliant idea.

Not actual 87 bus.

1. It Utilizes Underused Resources. At night, once buses have stopped running, bus stops stand idle and unpopulated, making them ideal targets for ne’er-do-wells, rapscallions and vandals. Not in Andover though. With the new one-way timetable, bus stops in Andover will be used outside of peak periods, in fact, all through the night, as bus-users from Winterslow use them to shelter from the elements as they wait until the next day to return home from their visits to WH Smith and Poundland. The new timetable brilliantly uses passengers from Winterslow as a free security force to protect Andover’s bus stops from vandalism at night. A free security force. Ingenious.

2. It’s Innovative. It really is. The history of Britain is peppered with examples of blue-sky, outside-of-the-box, joined-up-thinking and ground-breaking innovation and no one can say that this bus timetable isn’t innovative. A bus that only goes one way. It’s revolutionary! Or at least it would be, if it went full-circle and returned from whence it departed. But it doesn’t. It is, however, definitely an innovation. A one-way bus! A bus that takes you somewhere and then abandons you there. Have you ever been on one of those before? No, I don’t suppose you have.

3. It Encourages Further Innovation. Not only is the one-way bus to Andover innovative, it encourages further innovation. Because for great creative and inventive thinking to occur, three things are required: Time, will and an environment conducive to uninterrupted thought. Spending hours on end in a deserted bus stop takes care of the first and the third things and who, faced with waiting until the next day for the bus home (or having had their bus home leave before they’ve arrived) wouldn’t want to invent a time-machine? The bus-users of Winterslow could achieve great things while they’re waiting for their bus. How brilliant of their local authority to create the environment in which the creative talents of the people of Winterslow can bear fruit.

4. It’s Soothing. This public-transport quantum-leap eliminates one of the biggest objections people have to travelling by public transport. Timetable-anxiety: That nagging feeling that haunts people who know they have to finish whatever they’re doing punctually and get to a certain place at a certain time in order to return home. But now the residents of Winterslow won’t have to hurriedly conduct their affairs in Andover. They will experience no more the subliminal torment and creeping trepidation associated with having to rush their business to meet a tight deadline. The people of Winterslow can’t go home.   They have been liberated from the tyranny of the timetable. And from housework and nice, warm beds and things.

5. It Elevates Bus Travel From The Realms Of The Mundane. Why do the people of Winterslow take the bus to Andover? I’m sure that’s a question that none of us ever thought we’d be facing but it’s there now, so let’s brainstorm it (very briefly). Okay, are we all agreed that it’s to use the more comprehensive facilities and amenities generally associated with a larger town; shops, banks, post offices and the railway station etc? Good. But those are all rather dull things (except for etc which is redolent of mystery). Now, however, a trip to Andover has been turned into a stopover. It’s not a trip to the bank before returning home, it’s a holiday. The bus-users of Winterslow are now tourists; travellers. They’re the diesel-set. It’s so much more glamorous than a regular bus service.

6. It Saves Money. It saves the local authority money as they only have to run a bus one way (unless the bus depot is in Winterslow. Or Andover) and it saves the passengers money as they’ll only be paying for single tickets (plus they can turn the heating off in their houses for the night and they won’t be using their televisions or hobs and ovens or washing machines). So everyone wins here and, when they’re not working on their time-machine, the bus-users of Winterslow will be able to spend their night in the bus shelter calculating just how much money they’ve saved!   How thrilling and uplifting for them. This is the sort of financial whizz-kiddery that could revolutionise the public sector.

7. It’s Traditional. Wiltshire Council are merely the latest innovators in a grand tradition of cutting-edge bus-timetable thinking in the UK. With their one-way bus service, they may even have surpassed the nation’s previous high-water-mark in radical timetable departures: In 1976, it was reported that buses on the Hanley to Bagnall route in Staffordshire regularly sailed past queues of up to thirty people. This was because – in the words of Councillor Arthur Cholerton – if these buses stopped to pick up passengers, it would disrupt the timetable.* I think the one way bus service may well have topped the no-passenger model. I think the people of Wiltshire can feel rightly proud of their council’s accomplishment. And they’ll have a lot of spare time to feel proud in. Wiltshire District Council, we salute you!

Source: The Book of Heroic Failures (1979). Stephen Pile (An excellent read).

September 20, 2011
7 Reasons T’ Talk Like A Pirate

Avast, me hearties! ‘Tis Long Jon Gold. T’day, as if you needed remindin’, be International Talk Like A Pirate Day. And here be seven o’ t’ finest reasons why you should be channelin’ Johnny Depp at this very moment. And while you be readin’ this I be off t’ make Marc ‘Fish Fin’ers’ Fearns walk t’ plank. Yarrr!

1. Bury Bad News. T’day be t’ perfect day t’ tell people that thar be goin’ t’ have t’ be redundancies. Or tell your beauty that you no longer want t’ be with them. Or announce that Nick ‘Smell-O-Panties’ Griffin has moved in next door. No one will ever be able t’ understand you, but your aft be covered.

2. Abuse. It’s a brilliant excuse t’ abuse people you don’t like under t’ pretext that it be just how pirates talk t’ each other. You may have long thought that your colleague be an ol’ scurvy dog, but only now can you actually tell her. You may think you’re best-bucko’s beauty be a complete twazzock, now be t’ time t’ tell him. And her. Just get it off your treaaye*.

3. Innuendo. Of course t’ alternative be that you fancy t’ pants off your colleague and you need an excuse t’ flirt. Talkin’ like a pirate offers you t’ perfect opportunity. What lass wouldn’t be won over upon hearin’, “Ahoy, me beauty! I’d love t’ drop anchor in your lagoon” or, “Ahoy, me lovely, would you let me come aboard?”? And obviously, if you be lass after a bloke, send them an email sayin’ this, “Me porthole, your six pounder, one jolly rogerin’? Meet me in t’ toilets in five.” I promise you it will work.

4. Dress Up. While talkin’ like a pirate be good fun, why not go one step further and dress like one too? T’ be honest, you’d just appear weird if you sat in t’ meetin’, in your tailored suit, talkin’ pirate. It would be much better t’ be dressed as one too. Take George ‘Skull & Cross-Fingers’ Osbourne as an example. At t’ moment he be borderin’ that fine line between bein’ a genius and a fool. Were he t’ be filmed in a cabinet meetin’ just talkin’ like a pirate, those who think he be a fool would have more evidence to support that claim. On t’ other hand, were t’ to be dressed like Hook and accompany his curls with t’ spiel, not only would his credibility shoot through t’ roof, he’d probably also get himself doin’ pantomime in Weston-Super-Mare. And that’s go t’ be a good thin’ for everybody..

5. The Future. If you’ve been wonderin’ whether you be in t’ starboard career, spendin’ a day talkin’ as a pirate will tell you once and for all what your next move should be. If your pirate burr slips in t’ West-country farmer more often than not, it’s definitely time t’ up sticks, invest in a combine ‘arvester and join T’ Wurzels. You’re a natural.

6. Sick Days. After a day o’ talkin’ like a pirate t’ chances be your throat will be so sore you won’t be able t’ talk at all. So, take t’ day off. Make aye you phone your boss up and breath heavily done t’ phone t’ him/her first, that way they can’t complain that you didn’t try and report in.

7. T’ Alternative. T’ alternative be t’ write like a pirate. That, I asaye you, takes time. I started this post in August. I finished it about ten minutes ago. So based on me experiences, if you were t’ write like a pirate for t’ day you would end up bein’ three weeks behind. And that’s not a good place t’ be. I should be writin’ a mid-October post today. Instead, I’m still writin’ this. One can only assume I will be celebratin’ Christmas, by meself, on 15th January. So, unless you want t’ join me, ignore t’ email for t’ day and get on t’ dog and bone instead. Yarrr!

*’Treaaye’ is pirate slang for ‘chest’. Who knew? Apart from pirates obviously.

September 19, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Grow A Beard This Winter

The full beard, like many types of groomed facial hair, is a beautiful thing. But it’s also one that appears to fallen by the wayside of popular fashion. That is not a trend that Tommy George of www.idealo.co.uk wants to see continue. Here are seven reasons why.

Canada's Adam Kleeberger Keeps His Face Warm During The Rugby World Cup

1. Cost. Razors are expensive. Hair grows for free. You do the math(s). Nowadays, sixteen bladed, all singing, all dancing razor blades that not only scratch your face off but also sing the national anthem of Tonga are all the rage. However, they are REALLY expensive. Expensive enough that if a chap were to stop buying razor blades for an entire month, he could afford a whole set of Lego. Now would you rather have a sore face and no distraction or look cool AND have a ton of bricks to play with?

2. Competition. Men love a competition. Particularly competitions to judge who is most manly. In the animal kingdom, lions, tigers and bears fight and kill for this privilege – all you have to do is grow the best beard amongst your rosy-chopped and clean-shaven peers. All of the bragging rights in the pub – and with it all of the women – will be yours. Sort of like Rasputin, but with an even more mythical effect.

3. Fish Fingers. For gentleman of a more distinguished grey persuasion, it is possible that after several hard months of beard growing, people will mistake you for Captain Birdseye (particularly if you should choose to wear a naval uniform and wink a lot.). Upon realising this, total strangers will offer you the delicious fishy snacks out of pure courtesy. Another saving – and fish fingers don’t come cheap.

4. Fear. No man really likes children. Children are loud, small and, most importantly, banned from the pub – if you’re pub isn’t a swanky gastro-pub with tablecloths and disinfectant in the lager that is. So what better way to scare off little Jonny than to grow an enormous, terrifying beard and mutter under your breath? There is a reason children always cry when sitting on Santa Claus’ knee at Christmas. Use it to your advantage. Or alternatively buy a clown suit.

5. Loss. You will find after your beard advances past a stubbly stage and beyond the echelons of bumfluff, that one can grow quite attached to the looming dark mass upon ones cheeks and become used to the endless compliments that one receives on its behalf. So, when the beard is finally hacked off, the flow of niceties dries up and eventually a feeling of longing for the first follicles of re-growth. They say it is better to have loved and lost – but where beards are concerned, the loss can be simply avoided. With a beard, love and never lose!

6. Food. Beards are a useful source of food. Eating off the beard of a rival (which you may have to do if your rival has read reason two) will give you those much needed calories due to the left over food that can be stored up over a period of time. Either intentionally or not. The smart man with the beard will never go hungry. Whats better than a twelve ounce, juicy, tender, sirloin steak? Finding a twelve ounce, juicy, sirloin steak in your beard two hours later! That’s what.

7. Stroking. Dogs, cats, parrots and, to a lesser extent, crocodiles and tarantulas, all like to be stroked. It is surprising in this age of instant gratification that humans haven’t followed down a similar path to chin tickling heaven. Well children, let me let you in on a little secret, being stroked is great! However, the opportunities for being stroked are considerably limited, but when one arises it is always prudent to be in possession of a long, sleek elegant beard. Then, who knows where the night will take you!

So, gentleman, cast aside your razors and join us in our quest for a simpler, hairier life.

September 17, 2011
7 Reasons That A Red Bucket Is The Most Amazing Thing In The World

Hello 7 Reasons readers. Due to unforeseen circumstances we’re going to publish a guest post on a Thursday, which is something that we’ve never done before. So here, taking up not very much space on the 7 Reasons sofa at all, but making quite a lot of noise and a bit of a smell that we’re pretending not to notice, is today’s guest poster. Possibly our youngest ever.

Hello! My name’s Byron Sebastian Fearns and I’m a baby. Now I may not have seen much in my five and three quarter months, but today the most wonderful thing happened and I was compelled to share with you what I discovered; it is the most exciting thing in the whole history of the world ever. It’s something called a red bucket. Here are seven reasons that it’s more amazing than anything else, even elephants and balls.

1. It’s Red! The first thing I noticed when my mother and father wheeled me through the big building full of shiny stuff and dishcloths and picked up my toy that I now know is called a “bucket” (which rhymes with “fuck it”, a phrase I heard my father say once shortly before mother became very cross) was that it is red. This means that it’s amazing and not blue or yellow like everything else that people buy for me on the basis that “it’s for a boy” or that “yellow is a neutral colour”. I don’t like blue (it is a colour that makes my father cry at football matches) and I’m not neutral. If I liked neutral colours I’d hurl magnolia coloured food at the walls rather than orange coloured food. I like bright colours! I like red!

2. It Makes A Noise! It does! As we perambulated through the big building full of shiny stuff and dishcloths Father turned the bucket upside-down and began banging on the bottom of it. It made a noise like the noise that the man next door makes all day long in his kitchen or the sound that Father sometimes makes with his head on the desk after he has stared at a white screen for a considerable period of time. I’m relatively new to the concept of onomatopoeia, but it made a noise that sounded like thump-thump-diddle-diddle-ump and was very loud. The ladies that live in the big building full of shiny things seemed most impressed.

3. It’s Hilarious! Then we took my bucket to the park where the trees and squirrels live. We lay down on the grass and, after I had completed a short bout of screaming for absolutely no reason, Father said “Look Byron” and put the bucket over his head. This was the funniest thing I have ever seen. Ever! Father then took it off his head and put it back on his head and I laughed again. We did this for hours! Father enjoyed this so much that he started rolling his eyes and staring at his watch with delight.

4. It Makes Another Noise! Just when I felt that I might eventually tire of Father putting the bucket on his head, taking it off again and then putting it back on his head, something amazing happened. Father coughed and it sounded like the deepest loudest sound ever heard by anyone at all. This was hilarious. I laughed for ages. Then Father made other noises in the bucket too and they were even funnier. They were so funny that I laughed more than I ever have before; they were so funny that Mother had to edge slowly away from us in case she injured herself with all of the fun; they were so funny that Father suddenly became religious and started asking god when he could go home. He spoke to god in the bucket! Oh, how I laughed.

5. It Moves! Then Father stood up and started running round the park with the bucket on his head and pretended to be a monster (which is a creature similar to a dog). “Rooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrr!” he said as he ran round a tree; “Roooooooooaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!!” he said as he ran past a bench; “Rooooooaaaaarrrrrrr!!!!!!!” he said as he ran behind a bush”; “Aaaaaaaaaarrrrggghhhhhh!!!!!!” screamed a tour group from behind the bush; “Roooooaaaaaaarrrrrrr!!!!!” he said as he ran back from the bush; “OOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!!!” he said as he fell over a bin. Then he said a word that I’ve never heard before and Mother shouted a lot and we had to go home.

6. It’s Red Inside Too! On the way home Father put the bucket on my head and I thought it was the most awesome and amazing thing that it’s possible for any human to experience, ever. It turned everything in the world red and when I made a noise it was the biggest noise that anyone has ever made. It was bigger even than the noise that Father made when I weed on his coat as he was changing my nappy at the National Railway Museum. It was amazing! Then Father took the bucket off my head and the next-door-neighbours were there and they seemed concerned.

7. I Can Get In It! After a long – and really boring – conversation with the neighbours about babies and the bucket and stuff we got home and then something happened that was the most incredible, fantastical and phantasmagorical thing of all. I got into the bucket!

Look at me! I’m in the bucket.

Then Father took the bucket away and told me if I ever wanted to see it again I had to write today’s 7 Reasons post as he has something called a “headache”, which he says is a contagious disease that is contracted by proximity to children. So now I’ve written it I’m going to get the bucket back and play with it all day every day for a week. Or perhaps a month! I’m off to play with my bucket now. Bye-bye.

September 15, 2011
7 Reasons The Playground Is A Metaphor For Life

I’m sitting in the park. It’s August but it’s gloomy, dank and wet. There’s no one else around. The playground ahead of me is completely empty. I stare for a while. Thinking back to the days when it would have been acceptable for me to run over and jump on the swing. Then I realise something. I’m already on a swing. And a merry-go-round. And a see-saw. The playground ahead of me is just a metaphor for what we experience every day. Here’s why:

1. Swings. Back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes quick, sometimes slow. It’s just like commuting to and from work everyday. Or doing the school run. Sometimes we want it to speed up. To get us through the day. Sometimes we want it to slow down. So we can live the moment for longer. Most of all though, sometimes it makes us throw-up.

2. Slides. It takes time and effort to get to the top. For what? Just to slide straight back down to earth, on your backside, at twice the speed.

3. Merry-Go-Rounds. You go round and round and round in circles. Then you feel dizzy, have a lie down, get up and get back on. And we repeat this ridiculous lifestyle choice for eternity. We’re idiots.

4. See-Saw. Up and down, up and down. All while some git tries to make you fly off and smash your head on the concrete floor. Well, it was concrete in my time. It’s probably wood-chippings now. It’s health and safety gone mad.

5. Climbing-Frame. It doesn’t matter which route you take, the view from the top is always the same – usually some bloke with his tongue down your girlfriend’s throat behind the cricket pavilion.

6. Monkey Bars. You pull yourself up, you think you look cool and then your pants fall down. You lower yourself and realise your pride hurts only slightly more than your biceps.

7. Sand Pit. It’s pretty standard. You make your castle only for some twat to come along and kick it to smithereens. Good name for a 1960s band that, The Smithereens. I was so after my time.

September 14, 2011
7 Reasons That I Hate The Man At The Pub

It was all going so well. All I had to do was go to an unfamiliar pub and meet four friends that were there waiting for me. But there was a man at the pub who cocked it all up and made everything infuriatingly difficult. Here are seven reasons that I hate him.

1. The Man At The Pub Is In My Way. Exiting the bar with a pint in my hand and entering a narrow, dimly-lit anteroom with tables and stools situated haphazardly on either side of barely delineated central walkway I walked past a couple of tables and spotted my friends seated approximately two tables away, ahead of me and to the right. I moved toward them squeezing between the stools on the cluttered walkway. But there was a problem. There was a man also squeezing his way through the cluttered throng of drinkers, tables and stools in the opposite direction, heading toward me. Fairly soon he was in my way.

2. The Man At The Pub Moves In The Wrong Direction. As an Englishman I did what came naturally and stepped to my left as I approached him, in the knowledge that when he moved to his left, there would be sufficient room for us both to pass; assuming that we turned sideways, squeezed in and stopped breathing (because everyone stops breathing when performing this sort of manoeuvre, even though there is no earthly reason for doing so). But the man didn’t move to his left, he moved to mine (his right). He was still in my way.

3. The Man At The Pub Is Stupid. No, that’s uncharitable. He’s not necessarily stupid, I thought. Perhaps he hails from a country where they drive on the right. Perhaps he doesn’t drive. Perhaps he’s drunk; he does, after all, have a pint in his hand. I did what any other sensible person would do, given that he was to my left. I stepped to my right. But at the same moment that I moved to my right, he moved to his left. We had both moved but were both still blocking each other’s path. Bugger.

4. The Man At The Pub Is Still In My Way. Oh God, I inexplicably thought, to a being that I don’t believe in, this could go on all night. This could be one of those occasions where I and a random unwitting partner selected purely by proximity and happenstance perform the tentative and ungainly dance that I know as The Get-The-Hell-Out-Of-My-Way-And-Stop-Shuffling-From-Side-To-Side-In-Front-Of-Me-You-Simpering-Ninny. A blushing teenage girl and I once performed this dance on a narrow pavement outside of the Lewes branch of Waitrose for a full fifty seconds; replete with breezily uttered apologies, good-natured rolling-of-the-eyes, winsome shrugs and staccato bursts of nervous laughter. It was excruciating. I wanted to die. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me (which would actually have solved the problem). There was no way I was going to repeat that again. I resolved not to move any more this time. “Sorry”, I said to the man with the pint, instinctively, at the same time as he said “sorry” to me. Ah, I thought, he is English after all.

5. The Man At The Pub Is Mysterious. Then something else hit me. This man looked vaguely familiar. We regarded each other for a split-second, but I wasn’t quite sure who he was. It was one of those moments, when, in the back of your mind, you know that you know a person but for whatever reason – usually to do with seeing them outside of their usual context – you can’t quite place them. This was perplexing.

6. The Man At The Pub Is Confused. I noticed that my friends – who were frustratingly still ahead of me and to the right, as the man and I were going nowhere, were all looking at me – two were pointing – and roaring with laughter. They were hysterical. I failed to see how two grown men trying to get out of each other’s way in a pub was quite that funny, but then I noticed something quite odd. Although my friends were seated ahead of me and to the right, the sound of their laughter was coming from behind me and to the right. I turned to face the sound. My friends were sitting there. I turned back to face the man blocking my path. Then I realised why he looked familiar. He was me. I was the man in my way.

7. The Man At The Pub Is A Laughing Stock. It turned out that some bright spark had come up with the brilliant idea of covering the entire back wall of a small, dimly lit room with a mirror to make it appear lighter and airier and the customers appear stupider. As I turned and walked toward the table where my friends were still laughing uproariously, the sniggering barmaid was busy collecting glasses there. Feeling rather embarrassed and wishing to downplay the act of foolishness that I was slowly realising I would never, ever be allowed to forget I sought a crumb of comfort from her. “That must happen all the time,” I stated blithely to her. “No.” She replied rather haughtily, “that’s never happened before”. With that, she turned away and walked out of the room, back to the bar, from where we could hear her sobs of laughter for many minutes. The evening didn’t go well. Still, as long as I don’t write about it, no one else will ever know. Oh. Bugger.

September 13, 2011
7 Reasons To Go Out Into The Wind

If you’re in Britain at all which, in 7 Reasons terms, is statistically likely, you can’t have failed to notice that it’s extraordinarily, astonishingly, epically windy outside at the moment. But the wind isn’t a bad thing. In fact, going out into the wind could well be the best thing for you. Here are seven reasons why.

I shall probably have nightmares featuring this image.

1. You’ll Have More Time. Have you any idea how much of your life is spent drying your hair? Absolutely loads. You’d probably find it amounts to years, if you were to spend even more time adding it all up. But you can save all that time. If you go outside into the wind, you’ll have drier hair. You hair will not only dry quickly, but it’s so windy out there that it will possibly remain dry forever. It’ll be drier than a salty desert; drier than a dry martini that has evaporated in the sun; drier than a Mormon in a towel; drier than fire (though hopefully not the same colour). If you go outside right now, you’ll never, ever need to dry your hair again. That’s like being given the gift of time.

2. You’ll Be More Beautiful. Competing cosmetics brands spend billions of pounds, dollars, euros, ringgits, zlotys and yen trying to convince us their product is the best for us. One of the things that they all agree on though, is that exfoliating is the key to naturally beautiful skin. If you go out into the wind right now, you’ll find that exfoliation is free. You’ll find that the wind is so strong that layers of dead skin are blown clean away from your face, leaving you both ruddy and beautiful. You’ll be ruddy beautiful. You might find that so many layers of skin are blown away that you’re left with your original baby-skin which, as we all know, is the softest, most lovely thing in the world outside of a gin distillery. And it’s free.

3. You’ll Be Sexier. What’s the universally acknowledged sexiest moment in film? No, it’s not the scene where Meg Ryan gets excited about sandwiches (unless you’re a weirdo, a pervert or are very hungry), it’s the scene from the The Seven Year Itch where, gently wafted by a breeze emanating from a subway grate, Marilyn Monroe’s dress billows upward revealing something hitherto unimagined by unsuspecting filmgoers. Women have legs! This is the universally acknowledged most sensual moment in the history of cinema. Similarly, if you go out into the wind in a dress you’ll find that it will billow, ripple and balloon too. The wind’s so strong at the moment that it’ll probably blow clean over your head. Just by doing the maths you can tell that an incident that reveals that much more flesh and structural garments will make you many times sexier than Marilyn Monroe in the sexiest cinema moment ever. You’ll be the sexiest woman in the world, even if you’re a man. If you want to be sexy, you need the wind.

4. You’ll Be Healthier. What’s the key to health? Exercise. Want exercise? Go outside right now. I went out into the garden earlier and soon found myself vaulting over a wall and giving chase to a garden ornament belonging to my son that had been suddenly taken by the wind and was skittering down the street. After a sprinting for many, many yards past several startled neighbours and a wild-eyed dog I caught up with it and trapped it with my foot. As I returned to my garden with the turquoise windmill spinning wildly in my hand I knew I was fitter for the unexpected exercise. I looked like an idiot, but you can’t have everything.

5. You’ll Be Wealthier. There are untold riches just waiting for you out there in the wind. Want to profit from this literal windfall? Here’s how: Firstly, go out into your garden and make sure that everything you own outside in the wind is secure. Secondly, go inside and wait. When the wind stops blowing, you’ll find that you have all sorts of new treasure. You’ll have bags, you’ll have paper stuff, you’ll have new plants, you’ll probably have a dress and a turquoise windmill. You’ll have booty! Absolutely anything could turn up. It’s like a free lucky dip or a meteorological tombola. A windswept sweepstake. A gale lottery. Weather bingo!

6. You’ll Be Wiser. Remember the Aesop fable about the sun and the wind having a bet to see if they could make a man remove his cloak and the wind failing abjectly at this task? No? Go outside with a cloak on then and see if you want to take it off. That’s practical learning. Plus you might be able to use it to fly.

7. You’ll Feel Better. What do Scandinavian types do to cheer themselves up when their favourite elk dies or they find that their new wardrobe has one bolt missing and the instructions have apparently been translated into gibberish? They get into the sauna and beat themselves with twigs and leaves. No one knows why they do this*, but they claim that it makes them feel good. So imagine how great you’ll feel when you go outside and stand next to a tree. At the moment, you’ll be beaten black and blue by all manner of twigs and leaves swirling round in the air at improbable speeds. You’ll be battered into happiness, buffeted into joy, knocked about into light-heartedness and marmalised into merriment. You’ll feel better than you ever have in your life. Go outside right now, it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever done! Oh, and can you pick up something for my dinner while you’re out there? I’m staying in.

*Okay, someone probably does.

September 12, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Facebook Is The Worst Thing To Happen To You

Today’s 7 Reasons guest post is brought to you by Jon Potter who works for Anicca Solutions, an online marketing agency. There are, according to Facebook, over 500 million people in the world with a Facebook account. That’s rather a lot. So many, in fact, you’d struggle to fit them in…anywhere. Even a Death Star or Tardis may have to admit defeat to that kind of number. So, you might say, a stupidly large number of people use Facebook, it must be pretty good, right? Wrong. Here are seven reasons why Facebook is the worst thing to ever happen to 500 million people.

1. Facebook Means Everyone Can See You. In A Creepy Way. Remember that weirdo you went on one date with and then never saw again? The one who kept a bottle of chloroform in their car and you assumed went to prison? Well, unless you’ve trawled through the complicated privacy settings on your Facebook account, they’re probably stalking you right now from their prison cell. Not a pleasant thought. But wait, it gets worse. Not only can they stalk you, but they can probably stalk your friends too. And your family. Yes folks, Facebook makes horror movies look more like documentary footage. Sure, everyone thinks they’re the plucky one who survives the entire film, but with 500 million other contenders out there, you’re almost certainly that nameless extra who dies at the beginning before the titles.

2. Facebook Sells Your Data. This has been said before and it might be a bit of a cheap shot. But, when it boils down to it, Facebook only exists in order to sell advertising based on the data you put in. They tell users ‘Facebook helps you connect and share with the people in your life.’ But you can detect a bit of sarcasm in that when you read their message to advertisers: ‘People treat Facebook as an authentic part of their lives, so you can be sure you are connecting with real people with real interest in your products.’

3. Facebook Does Not Obey The King. In 1968, the wise shaman of popular music, Elvis Presley, issued a stirring call for ‘a little less conversation, a little more action please’. The people ignored his call (though they dug his funky music) and he issued it again, from beyond the grave, in 2001. Facebook would do well to listen. By providing a stream of news items, wall posts, status updates and comments, Facebook gives users conversations in a way never seen before. Facebook demands conversation above all else. Facebook does not want you going outside, it does not want you going to see your friends, it does not want you talking to them on the phone. Facebook wants you at home, alone, ‘chatting’ over its instant messaging service, commenting on your friends’ updates, writing on their walls. This way lies idle madness. Listen to the King, go out and see your friends. Add some action to your conversation and talk over a game of soccer or a trip to the cinema.* Go forth and be social in a way which Facebook cannot comprehend. Stick it to the machine.

4. Facebook Is Like A Horrible Drug Addiction That Steals Your Face. No, not because it sucks up your time (which it does), or because you can’t stop checking your newsfeed (which you can’t), or because you find yourself still logging on at 3 in the morning the night before your big job interview (which you do). No, Facebook is like a horrible drug addiction because, no matter how hard you try, you can never leave. You may think you have left Facebook. You may not have gone near the site in years. But somewhere, deep within the Facebook system, there is your face. And next to your face is your name. And next to that, are all the thousands of other details you put on your profile in the first place. Y’see, like Hotel California, you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave. Facebook will horde your details and won’t let you delete them. Even if you ask really nicely. No, really. You’re in there forever, baby.

5. Facebook Takes The Fun Out Of Having Friends. Imagine you didn’t know every microscopic detail of your friends’ lives. Imagine you didn’t know, for example, that Kevin ate noodles for lunch, Sandra watched the entire Godfather trilogy back to back last night, and Michael thinks Woody Allen is the best director since Edison built the first film studio. Imagine that you then go out for dinner with Kevin, Sandra, and Michael and you say ‘hey, what have you guys been up to?’ Imagine the surprise and delight you experience when you hear about their lives and you don’t know it already. This is the surprise and delight that Facebook is stealing from you. Shame on you, Facebook, shame on you.

6. Facebook Is Going To Lose Your Identity. Earlier this year, the Sony Playstation Network was hacked and lots of customers’ details stolen. Facebook is, to hackers after personal information, the mother ship. How much do you trust Facebook’s security? More or less than you trusted Sony’s? Yeah, thought so.

7. Facebook Causes Anxiety. Yes, it’s true. A recent report from psychologists at Edinburgh Napier University found that ‘there is a significant minority of users who experience considerable Facebook-related anxiety, with only very modest or tenuous rewards.’ Pressure stems from deleting unwanted contacts, pressure to be entertaining and inventive, or fears over using the correct etiquette for different ‘friends’. The question is, though, can you leave the site? Not only do Facebook keep your details, but according to the study, ‘Like gambling, Facebook keeps users in a neurotic limbo, not knowing whether they should hang on in there just in case they miss out on something good.’

*Don’t talk over the film. No one likes that.

September 10, 2011
7 Reasons Not To Have A Conversation With Someone You Think You Know, But Don’t

I have half-an-hour to go before my meeting so I take cover just outside Liverpool Street Station. I’m not alone. Despite the rain we’re a hearty brollyless bunch. A man quips about it being a good job the Evening Standard is now free. We laugh. Probably for a bit too long. A woman decides she’d prefer to get wet. The space she leaves is immediately filled by a man. A man about my age. A man who I end up performing a double-take toward. “I know him!” I think to myself, “That’s.. erm.. that’s Tom!”

1. Introduction. I move towards Tom. He hasn’t seen me yet. I wonder if I should jab him in the ribs or tickle him, then I decide probably not. We hadn’t seen each other for years and even when we did frequent The Mitre in Fulham our relationship never reached rib-jabbing levels. Instead I manoeuvre into his vision and say, “Hello!”

“Hi,” he says back, a little less excitedly than I had hoped.

“Been a while, huh?” I say, lifting my eyebrows in the process as if to add weight to my observational skills.

“Urm, yeah,” he replies, adding lack of interest to his already unexcitable bearing.

2. Awkward Situation One. I get the feeling that Tom doesn’t really want to talk to me. Maybe he has an interview. Maybe he still reckons I owe him for a pint. I rack my brains. I was always good at paying for my round. In fact, I think Tom owes me. I can’t be sure so I decide to let it go. And anyway, I have more pressing matters. Like working out what to do now. It would look weird if I just walked away wouldn’t it? I decide to try and bring him out of his shell.

3. Small Talk. “You still living in the place?” I ask.

“Er.. yeah.”

“Still with Harriet?”

“Who?”

“Harriet? You still with her?”

“I don’t know anyone called Harriet,” he replies. And for the first time he looks directly at me. I freeze.

4. Awkward Situation Two. This isn’t Tom! I don’t know this bloke at all! He doesn’t even look anything like Tom now. What the hell must he be thinking? What the hell am I going to do now? Do I just apologise and move back to my spot? Do I leg it?

5. Weirdness. Then something really odd happens. He doesn’t make his excuses and walk away. He doesn’t just completely ignore me. He doesn’t ask me who I am. Instead he asks me a question. A question I have to ask him to repeat. Twice.

“Do you mean Hannah?”

Do I mean Hannah? Do I? I don’t know. I mean, I do know. I know I don’t mean Hannah. I know I mean Harriet. But this looks like an escape route. A small ray of light down a dark tunnel. I decide to take it.

“Hannah! Yes, not Harriet, I mean Hannah! How is she?”

6. Awkward Situation Three. “Ah, didn’t you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“She died.”

Oh. Bloody hell.

7. Goodbye. If you’ve never been in the situation where you’ve introduced yourself to a stranger only to be told that the stranger’s girlfriend is now dead, I urge you to avoid it. It is quite frankly the worst situation I have ever found myself in. And that includes my next-door neighbour’s garden when I was nine. It took me well over a decade before I was able to look at naked women again. (Mind you that wasn’t down to a lack of effort on my part). I didn’t quite know what to say. I think I just stared at Tom opened mouthed. I couldn’t quite believe it. I suspect we were only stood there for a few seconds not saying anything, but it could have been ten minutes. It’s all something of a blur. I could not quite believe how I had managed to find myself in this situation.

“Anyway,” began ‘Tom’, “I’m going to be late. Sorry just to burden you with that news. Give me a call. We’ll go for a beer.”

He held out his hand. I shook it.

“Yeah, that would be good,” I said, as he began to walk away. “Take care.”

And with that he was gone. I couldn’t call him. I couldn’t go for a beer with him. I didn’t have his number. I had no idea who he was. All I knew is he was a bloke who had once lost someone called Hannah. I headed off towards my meeting feeling a profound sense of sadness. It started raining harder. I held my Evening Standard above my head.

September 9, 2011
7 Reasons To Watch The Rugby World Cup

Here we go then. After four years of waiting England are finally about to bring the Webb Ellis Trophy home again. Don’t worry though, if you are of another nationality, there are still reasons to watch.

1. The Perennials. Yes, I’m talking about New Zealand. Favourites for the fifth tournament in a row and justifiably so. The Kiwis are very good and every other team out there is quite frankly abysmal. Add into the mix that they are also hosts then the odds of 8/13 still seem quite generous. To an uneducated supporter that is. Everyone else knows that New Zealand will not win. They are chokers. Defeated in the 1995 final, the 1999 and 2003 semi-finals and the 2007 quarter-finals. They are the Netherlands of the rugby world. So much natural talent and yet so little mental toughness. The draw has been kind to them this year, they play their nemeses France in the group stage meaning they’ll win that one. A quarter-final against Argentina won’t provide too many difficulties, but then they come up against the Aussies – who, after losing to Ireland in the group stages, knock South Africa out in the quarters. And the Aussies win that one. Because they know how.

2. The Group Of Death. If there is such a thing as the group of death in this World Cup, it’s group D. Neither Wales nor South Africa will find it easy against Samoa or Fiji and while South Africa’s experience should help them through, Wales may be heading home early. Which is obviously a shame because New Zealand is full of sheep.

3. The Minnows. That’s right, I’m talking about Scotland. They should be entertaining to watch. For a neutral anyway. For a Scot there’ll be a dispiriting draw against Romania, two horrendous defeats to Argentina and Georgia and then a two-point win against England. Just because that’s all the Scots care about. And because Hape will be playing for England instead of the suspended Tulagi – who head-butted one touch-judge, two cheerleaders and a supporters coach during the game against Argentina.

4. Sleep Deprivation. The time difference means all of us who fine-tuned the art of staying awake all night followed by a half-arsed day at work during The Ashes, get to do it all over again. The first game between the hosts and Tonga is really just a warm-up. The fun starts on Saturday morning. The first of four games kicks off at 2am. There are no forty-minute lunch breaks to sleep through. No rain-delays to give you an excuse to go to bed. Just rugby, rugby, rugby. But that’s great because being deprived of sleep is wonderful. It puts you in a trance-like state through which you do all the jobs you hate without even realising. It really should be available on the National Health.

5. Commentary. With no Ortis Deley presenting, we have to look to the commentators for tongue-twisters. And, in particular, the unlucky sole who pulled the short straw and will find themselves in Auckland on 25th September commentating on Fiji v Samoa. If you know your Waqaniburotu, Murimurivalu and Koyamaiboles from your Treviranus, Poluleuligaga and Tagicakibaus then I suggest you give ITV a call. You’ll almost certainly be put on stand-by. For the rest of us, this has drinking game written all over it. For every mispronunciation, it’s two fingers. You’ll be wrecked by 6am.

6. The Unexpected. Last year ITV performed quite a coup. They got Francois Pienaar to join their line-up for the Football World Cup. Yes, the rugby legend Francois Pienaar. One assumes this was because the World Cup was being hosted in South Africa. So this begs the question, which Kiwi football star have they lined up to offer expert analysis on the scrum? That’s right, it’s Blackburn defender and current Kiwi captain, Ryan Nelson. I expect.

Blackburn’s Ryan Nelson Will Be In ITV’s Analysis Truck For The Rugby World Cup

7. The Alternative. Well that would be to listen to it. On, wait for it, TalkSport. Yes, that’s right, TalkSport! They have exclusive rights which means no Ian Robertson this year. They do have a decent commentary team with John Taylor and Brian Moore in the ranks, but my problem is that they’ll keep interrupting the matches to tell us that Nick Barmby has rejoined Spurs on a free and some twat from a van-hire company will repeatedly tell they’re the best in Canvey Island. I don’t want to know! Then we’ll probably have Jon Gaunt doing a rugby phone-in with Nick Griffin. It’s not going to be pretty. Watch it on TV instead. Watch it on a real channel. Watch it on… oh… erm… it’s on ITV again.

September 8, 2011