Tag: Humor

7 Reasons That The Top 100 Boys Names List 2010 is Intriguing

The ONS list of the most popular baby names in the UK during 2010 has been published and there are some stunning results. We’re not going to look at the girls names (because they could be used for a second post), today we’re going to look at boys names. Here are seven reasons that the list is intriguing.

1. Political Impact. The name Cameron has steeply declined in popularity. In 2000 it was the 24th most popular boys name; in 2009 it had fallen steeply to number 52, and in 2010 it fell further to number 61. For the sake of political balance we’ll take a look the opposition too: Ed hasn’t been in charge for long enough to be of any use, so we’ll look at the name Gordon. Gordon is such a deeply unpopular man…sorry…name, we’re discussing names here, that it doesn’t appear on the list at all. Not in 2010, not in 2009 and not in 2000. It turns out that Gordon has always been deeply unpopular. Oh, and as for Nick, who cares? Nope, me either.

2. The Unusual. The name Kayden, which languished at number 1425 at the turn of the millennium (who knew that the word millennium had two Ns?) has rocketed up to number 99 on last year’s list. Now I don’t know any Kaydens and nor, I fervently hope, do you, so I wondered if there was a famous Kayden responsible for the increased popularity of the name. It turns out there is. She’s called Kayden Kross and she’s a porn actress who got into the business because she wanted to buy a pony. People are naming their boys after a porn star. A female porn star. That is weird. They would have been better off naming them after the pony.

3. F1. The name Jenson has risen in popularity over the last ten years from 273 up to 96. This can surely only be attributable to the popularity of Jenson Button. The name Lewis also appears at number 27 on the list. Okay, so it’s decreased in popularity a bit over the last ten years, but it’s still a very well-used name. As for the name Fernando, well that appears nowhere, which is how I like it. It goes to show that the British public do have some taste. Despite the weird porn thing.

4. Alexander: A safe name; a solid name; a sensible name; a reliable name and some might say, a dull name. But that just isn’t true. The facts tell us that the name Alexander is more exciting than you (okay, I, mostly I) had previously supposed. From its year 2000 position of number 21 it went on a rollercoaster ride in which it plunged to number 22 in 2009 and then, in a monumental upswing of fortunes in 2010, scaled the list back to number 21. Breathtaking. Turns out that Alexander isn’t as dull as we thought it was.

5. Noah. Over the past ten years, the name Noah has risen from number 134 on the list to number 18. I’m sure we all know a Noah*. But I’m not keen on this name at all. In fact, I firmly believe that the popularity of this name could be a consequence of society having become increasingly more noisy over the past ten years. After all, it’s easy to mishear a mumbled reply of cluelessness when near heavy traffic, a mobile phone or a laptop:

What shall we call him, darling?

Noah, dear.

That’s certainly more probable than everyone making the same feeble joke about a boy being born or conceived at a time of heavy rain, isn’t it? I hope so.

6. Robert. What the hell has happened to Robert? It’s at number 90! When I was at school it seems that approximately a third of all boys were called Robert but now it’s only the 90th most popular name in the UK. Here are some names from last year that are considerably more popular than the name Robert: Ethan, bloody Noah, Jayden (which is the correct spelling of Kayden), Riley, Logan, Tyler, Finley, Mason and Kai. Kai! Who the hell knows more Kais then they know Roberts, Robs, Robbys, Bobbys and Bobs? In 2010, Robert has plummeted so far in popularity that it’s lower on the list than Caleb. How many Calebs have you ever met? It turns out the only thing you can do to have a less popular name than Robert is to be called Gordon or be related to me.

7. Self-Interest. One of the most striking things about the list itself is that none of my immediate family are on it. I’m not on it. My son’s not on it. My wife isn’t on it (the girls version of the list, obviously). Fred and Rose make the lists – despite the exploits of the West family – but no one that shares my surname is on them. I can’t help but feel a little left out. Does this epic societal rejection make us the least popular family in the UK? Should we change our names by deed poll to sensible conventional names like Harley, Hayden, Jayden, Kayden or Kai? Are we going to be cast adrift in a lifeboat or exiled to the Isle of Wight? I suspect it’s going to mean that we’re just going to have to continue spelling our names out to people, but still, it would be nice to be loved.

*That’s a top clothing and accessories bit of wordplay especially for girls, right there.

July 28, 2011
7 Reasons The London 2012 Olympic Medal Isn’t Very British

A year today the XXX Olympiad will be declared open in London. Today – for reasons I have failed to establish – Britain is celebrating this fact. As part of these celebrations, the medal which will be awarded to winners (as well as first and second losers) has been unveiled. The gold version looks like this:

Now, I know what you are thinking. It’s not very British. Which is why we here at 7 Reasons have designed seven alternatives.

1. Weather. Despite our recent protestations it does seem that the vast majority of Britons love the weather. And certainly, if you ask a foreigner, they’ll say we are absolutely obsessed with it. So why didn’t we celebrate that?

2. Chavs. I can’t say I’m a massive fan, but chavs as fundamental a part of British society as Morecambe & Wise, fish & chips and Andrew Strauss’ jock-strap.

3. Tea. For some bizarre and unfathomable reason one half of the 7 Reasons team doesn’t drink tea. I dare say he also harbours a deep desire to be French. Still, we can’t go around catering for one misinformed individual. The fact is, tea is British (possibly via China) and Britishness is tea. And we should have celebrated it.

4. Royalty. Another very British trait is our love for the Royal Family. At least it is if you ask an American. Goodness knows how they’d react if they ever met a Republican. Of all the Royals though, there is particular fondness and admiration for the Queen. Which is why this medal celebrates Freddie Mercury’s moustache.

5. Queue. Unlike the French who riot (or go on strike) if someone beats them to a till, us Brits love a good queue. We could be in it for hours and not even stifle a yawn. We’ll be dealt with eventually. Just bide your time Britain, bide your time. And wear a queuing medal.

6. Pride. We don’t moan, we don’t complain, we don’t sulk. We just suck in the big ones, take it on the chin and carry on. That is the British way. Which is why we’d have liked to have seen Usain Bolt wearing a medal that depicts Leslie Ash’s stiff upper lip.

7. Beer. When the day is done and the battle has been won, there is nothing that hits the spot quite like a warm beer with a massive head.

July 27, 2011
7 Reasons Not To Have A Bat In Your Dining Room

This may come as something of a surprise to regular readers of 7 Reasons, but we’re not experts on everything that we write about. Often, our pieces contain much speculation and conjecture. Today’s piece, however, is different. Today’s piece is written from experience. If you should find yourself in a dining room with a bat, this is exactly how it will go down.

1. Surprise! As you sit in your dining room on a quiet Saturday night catching up on missed television programmes using the iPlayer, you’ll feel relaxed and at ease. You’ll take a sip of your drink and languidly stretch out your legs. You’ll stifle a yawn and stretch out your arms. Eventually, you’ll lean back in your seat and glance up toward the ceiling light, to ascertain what is casting the strange shadow that you have seen from the corner of your eye for the past few seconds. Then you’ll scream involuntarily and bolt from the room and slam the door shut behind you. A large bat flying around your dining room will come as something of a surprise to you.

2. Disbelief. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Your wife will enquire in a startled manner, somewhat surprised by your shrieking.

“There’s a bat in the dining room.”

“What?”

“There’s a bat in the dining room.”

“What?”

“Bat!” (You’ll flap your arms about miming flight at this point). “Dining room!” (You’ll also point at the dining room.)

“What’s it doing in there?”

“Flying around the ceiling lamp and watching a documentary about Stalin.”

Rather disbelievingly, your wife will go to the dining room, open the door slightly and peer through the gap. On closing it very quickly, she will then announce that “there’s a bat in the dining room”.

3. Spin. Anxious that you should always see the positive side of any situation, you’ll start brainstorming. A bat in the dining room could be a good thing, you’ll think. A bat in the dining room would mean that there would never be any insects in there. A bat in the dining room would ensure that you could write in there with absolutely no chance of interruption: You could look at the internet with no chance of interruption! A bat in the dining room would…be a bloody great bat in the dining room. It turns out that the elephant in the room is that there’s a bat in the room. There’s no upside so good that it can surmount the fact that your dining room contains a bat.

4. Whimsy. Having established that having a bat in the dining room is a bad thing, you’ll turn your mind to what the hell to do with it. “We could call the RSPCA”, your wife will suggest.

“We’re not being cruel to it. We’re being inconvenienced by it.”

“Perhaps there’s a local bat group.”

“Yes, maybe they could send some sort of bat man.”

“A dog warden?”

“Or, we could call Commissioner Gordon and he could raise the bat-signal. Perhaps we could…”

5. Motivation. “…Oh my god!”

“What?!”

“My gin and tonic’s in there!”

6. De-batting. “Darling”, you’ll say, “We’re just going to have to man-up and deal with the bat ourselves…In you go.” This motivational speech will fail to make her deal with the bat on your behalf, so you’ll have to work as a team. You will close every door in the house (so the bat can’t start terrorising you in other rooms) and your wife will peer back into the dining room. She will find that the bat is still flying around in there, fluttering in haphazard circles around the ceiling light like a terrifying and gigantic moth. A behemoth*. You’ll formulate a plan. You will run in, raise the blind, open the window and run out again: Your wife will be in charge of opening and closing the door. You’ll take a deep breath and steel yourself for the task. Eventually, though too soon for you, your wife will open the door and you will burst into the room and stride toward the blind. Startled by the sudden presence in the room, the bat will realise that flying around is not a safe thing to do and he will decide to land. At the very instant that you arrive at the blind, the bat will land on it, inches from your face. “Aaaarrrgghhh”, you’ll scream as you run out of the room. Your wife will close the door.

You’ll realise that another plan is called for. If you raise the blind with the bat on it, you’ll just squash the bat. You’ll have a flat bat. And bats, if you flatten them, appear bigger. So, if you can’t raise the blind and open the window, you’ll have to trap the bat and remove it. Having rummaged in the kitchen cupboard for a suitable container for a considerable time, your wife will emerge with her Tupperware bat-trap. This time, she will be in charge of trapping the bat, and you will be in charge of the door (yay!) and the lid (boo!). You’ll open the door and your wife will stride in and head toward the blind with the container held out in front of her. Arriving at the blind she’ll cover the bat with the container. Now that the bat is safely contained, you’ll enter the room clutching the lid. You’ll slide the lid slowly and carefully between the blind and the Tupperware box and affix it. Phew.

7. Post-bat. As you breathe your sigh of relief the bat will let out a heart-rending squeak. Your wife will head into the back garden to release the bat and you’ll be in charge of the back door (yay again!). The moment that the lid is removed, the bat will flutter out and your wife will scream and run toward the door, which will cause you to laugh. Briefly. Eventually, having congratulated your wife on her brave conduct in the face of a big, scary bat and having closed every window in the house (twice), you’ll return to the comfort and security of Josef Stalin and your gin and tonic. Then you’ll discover that the bat has left you a “present” on your white Verner Panton stackable chair.

So there you go. That’s roughly what will happen if you have a bat in your dining room. I don’t recommend it.

*You’ll be inordinately proud of that wordplay.

July 26, 2011
7 Reasons The Flying Car Has Issues

Well, we might not be getting our hoverboards anytime soon, but it looks as if the flying car could be on our driveway as soon as next year. This is the Terrafugia Transition®:

Hunktastic, huh? And this is what it looks like when it’s taking you to work:

That’s a slice of heaven right there. The concept is undoubtedly genius. We have all been sat in traffic wishing we could take-off then and there. In reality though, the Terrafugia Transition® poses a number of problems. Seven of them.

1. Branding. We have already had a look at some of the worst product names out there and while the Terrafugia brand probably wouldn’t quite make that list, the name still worries me. ‘Terra’ obviously means ‘ground’, but I think of it just as it sounds. ‘Terror’. Would I get in a Virgin Nightmare? Or a Qantas Shock? Or a British Airways Screamer? Not a bloody chance. So would I get in a Terrafugia? Not a bloody chance. And sadly I am probably not alone. Why didn’t they call themselves Smoothflight or something equally camp, cliched and assuring?

2. Take-off. The take-off speed of this thing is apparently over 100mph. Its max speed on the ground is 62mph. I used to think I was good at maths.

3. Enough Room To Swing A 6-Iron. On the Transition® page of the Terrafugia website it gives you a list of conveniences. There are six and mostly things you’d want to hear. Rear-wheel drive and automated electromechanical folding wing being two. And then we get to the end of the list. And you start reading. And then you read it again. And again. And then you realise you are reading it correctly. You realise it does say, ‘Cargo area holds golf clubs’. Not ‘cargo area holds 50kg’ or ‘cargo area holds eight thousand pairs of pants’, but ‘cargo area holds golf clubs’! Why? Why would you do that? You have just alienated everyone who needs somewhere to put their cricket bat. Or a suitcase.

4. Landing. Maybe, just maybe, there is a reason this aircar has been designed with the discerning golfer in mind. Once you’ve taken off, you need to have somewhere to land. In fairness you could probably have worked that out for yourself, but there’s probably no harm in me helping you out. Where the hell do you land this thing though? You need a fair bit of room. You might get squashed by a 747 at Gatwick and fields might be a bit bumpy. The last thing you need is a scarecrow entering your cockpit. So the obvious alternative therefore are the lush, smooth fairways of a nearby golf-course.

5. Dizzy. There are naughty people around. Naughty people who steal wing mirrors. I don’t think they would need too much convincing to nick a non-mirrored wing. The problem is though, just as you might not notice a missing wing-mirror when you get in the car, you might not notice a missing wing. You’d end up flying around in circles.

6. Time. This is a bit like the Aesop fable, The Tortoise and The Hare. Just a modern version for modern times. The Hare is the plane. It’s clearly quicker. As the crow flies, it would get from A to B in twice or thrice the speed of the car. But only if it was a crow. The problem is that the plane needs to use an airfield to take-off and land (they’re not really allowed to land on Royal St. George’s). Which means first the plane has to be a car to drive from A to an airfield. Then it can do its funky flying bit. Only its funky flying bit will take it to an airfield miles away from B. Then the plane needs to be a car again. Meanwhile the car can be a car and get stuck on the M40, M25 and M23 and still beat the plane (which is now a car) back to B. It kind of defeats the object of having a propeller.

7. Always Take The Weather With You. The manufacturers advise you not to fly if the weather is inclement. I can go down to Poundland (and ask someone to go inside for me) and get a kite for £1. A kite flies beautifully in inclement weather. I would therefore expect a £180,000 aircar to fly 180,000 times more beautifully in inclement weather, not crash to the earth because it got whacked by a hailstone. Unbelievable.

July 25, 2011
Russian Roulette Sunday: The Worst 7 Reasons Ever

Each week we get a lot of guest post submissions. I suspect we actually get more submissions than we do readers. Of the submissions we receive, we use about one in every ten. Three of the other nine are usable, but don’t quite meet the high standards you so desire and the remaining six are, well, rubbish. Never though did I think I would ever receive something quite like this:

7 Reasons My Mom Should By Me A Dog by Tom.

1. Jarod has one.

2. If she don’t I’m gonna runaway with Jarod.

3. I only get $5 pocket money a week and Jarod gets $20.

4. Mom promised me an X-box but never got me one.

5. I have to go to church on Sunday and it sucks.

6. I got grades better than Mom expected.

7. Jarod says his dog attacked his Pop and mom don’t like Pop.

You may think I am being slightly harsh given Thursday’s piece, but do bear in mind that this has been heavily edited to include capital letters and full-stops. If you think you can write a worse 7 Reasons piece please send it to [email protected]. I would be astounded.

July 24, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Meetings Make You Homicidal

Saturday dawns as Saturday always does with a new guest post. This week the we welcome Juliet James to the 7 Reasons sofa. Most of the time Juliet is a writer for Print Express, a UK printing company that features booklet printing and business card design. Juliet has worked for many years as a writer and blogger. Over the years she has become quite adept at avoiding meetings for the safety of her co-workers. Here she is:

The two most dreaded words in business are definitely “You’re Fired” but if you ask me, the second worst words to hear at work are “Staff Meeting”. Almost every working schmuck has had the “pleasure” of sitting through at least a few meetings. Everyone has their own pet peeves when it comes to corporate convocations. But most people have probably wanted to kill someone in a meeting for at least one of these seven reasons.

1. The Boss. I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid seeing the boss. I know he uses the east entrance, so I use the west one. He takes lunch at noon, so I eat mine at 13:30. My schedule is a finely tuned instrument of circumvention. And meetings blow it all to hell. Not only do I have to face him, it’s almost impossible to escape one of the boss’s meetings without extra work, a policy change or a self-esteem deficit. And if we’re really lucky we’ll get all three. That’s a trifecta.

2. Stupid People. Everyone works with a moron. You know the one. It’s person that complains that the coffee maker is “overly complicated”. Normally you only interact with them for entertainment purposes. But in meetings, somehow, you always manage to wind up seated next to the dumbass. Perfect. They’ll either whisper stupid questions to you, or invite the entire room into their idiotic inquests. Either ways it reminds you why it’s unfortunate that bitch-slapping violates company policy.

3. Suck Ups. There’s always one guy in the room who’s just WAY too happy to be there. He’s taking notes, nodding emphatically and looking a lot like a dog about to go on a car ride. These are the suck ups, and they all come out of the woodwork in meetings. “What’s that boss, you think we should re-direct the Christmas bonuses to a mandatory sexual harassment seminar? Fantastic! You wanna do it over Labor Day weekend? Brilliant!” But on the plus side, at least you can spend most of the meeting fantasizing about flattening the sycophant’s head in the Xerox machine.

4. Wasting Two Hours of Your Life to Get Nowhere. Does anyone ever really accomplish anything in a meeting? In my experience it’s a gratuitous exercise in going in circles. It starts with a simple discussion of a problem. Then we have to dissect all of the complications surrounding the original problem. By the time we’re finished we haven’t solved anything but we’ve raised half a dozen other issues and someone went home with a migraine. Most office think tanks fail to engender progress and dissolve into pointless bitch sessions. Can’t we find a more efficient, less annoying way to get nothing done? Cause I have plenty of ideas about much more entertaining ways to accomplish nothing.

5. Being Stuck Sucks. Leaving in the middle of a meeting is always awkward and uncomfortable. So whether you have to pee, smoke or eat, you just hold it, because out of a meeting only seems to draw inquisitive looks and silent admonishment from others. It’s like there’s some kind of unspoken agreement among the inmates that everyone will “Stick it out”, so… you get stuck. Being locked into any one place for an indefinite amount of time is annoying; I don’t care if we’re talking about being trapped in the Gumdrop forest, if you can’t leave, you’re miserable.

6. Staying Late. It would be one thing if having an all-staff meeting bought you an extension on that project that’s due by COB that day. Of course, it never does, Nope, you’re deadline didn’t move but you just lost crucial work time to discussing the pros and cons of the re-designed Time Sheets. So now you get to stay an extra hour tonight to tie up loose ends. On deadline days the announcement of a meeting literally drops a bomb on your to-do list. You spend the entire gathering twitching anxiously watching the minutes tick past. Slowly, your hopes and dreams of making it home in time for dinner slip away. You already know it’s going to be another night of ordering take out at your desk. So by the time the meeting breaks you’re ready to trample anyone who gets between you and your desk

7. Here Comes The Bus. A lot of times meetings get called to address an “issue”. Of course that tends to be code for “Bob screwed up and now we all have to get together to talk about his mistake.” Or, even better, the meeting itself is a trap to catch a culprit. And the suck-ups just love those meetings because they’re dying to drive the bus right over the guilty party. So you just slouch down in your chair praying you’re not the guy who winds up under the wheels. Half the time if a meeting isn’t an announcement, it’s an indictment. Going in you never really know which one it’s going to be, and that’s always fun.

Meetings have all sorts of different functions, but usually by the time they’re over you’re pretty much ready to slaughter someone. But I think it’s healthy. Just keep your weapons at home and your murderous urges off of Facebook and you’ll probably be fine. But if you absolutely can’t resist exacting punishment, I hear Ex-lax makes excellent chocolate. And nobody can resist cookies during a meeting right?

July 23, 2011
7 Reasons To Get A Winter Beach Body

It’s the summer, and chances are that, right now, your thoughts are turning to holidays, with all of the indolent ease, languor and sheer carefree bliss that they entail. Unless you’re standing in a branch of WH Smith and gazing at a magazine stand consisting of dozens of covers featuring airbrushed pictures and article titles such as “How To Get The Perfect Summer Beach Body”, in which case you’re probably experiencing something akin to terror. But don’t panic, you don’t need the “perfect summer beach body” for your holiday; in fact, it’s infinitely inferior to the winter beach body. Here are seven reasons why.

1. A Winter Beach Body Is A Safer Option. And safety in the sea is important. When I was a svelte child, learning to swim, one of the things that all of my friends and family spent many hours teaching me to do was float. “It’s simple”, they would say, “you just stretch your arms and legs out and relax”, and then they’d just lie there, on top of the sea. Then it would be my turn: I’d stretch my arms and legs out, relax, and soon I’d find myself floating serenely. To the bottom of the sea. I would sink like a stone every time. But if you have a winter beach body, you’ll be difficult to sink and, should you get into trouble and find yourself floating away from the shore, you’ll be easier to spot from the beach or a helicopter. Your chances of surviving your beach holiday will be manifestly better than those of summer-bodied people.

2. A Winter Beach Body Makes A Statement. Getting a summer beach body is easy, anyone can do it. But getting a winter beach body takes a considerable investment of time and money and requires technology too. You can use it to flaunt your wealth and status. What does your winter beach body say about you? A winter beach body says that you can afford to dine well; a winter beach body says that you’re a car owner; a winter beach body says that you live somewhere modern festooned with lifts and escalators; a winter beach body says that you can afford twice as much suntan oil as anyone else on the beach; a winter beach body says that you might own a Segway. A winter beach body signifies affluence and ease.

3. A Winter Beach Body Is Practical. You might be holidaying in Britain and for that, a winter beach body is the better option. On British beaches, where people consume ice cream to warm themselves up, you’ll at least stand half a chance of not dying of hypothermia or exposure. What’s the last question that any family in the UK asks before they head off to the beach? “Have you remembered to pack the blanket”? In this country, insulation is most important thing that you can take to the beach. Winter beach bodies have more of that, built-in.

4. Getting A Winter Beach Body Is More Fun. You don’t need to starve yourself or drink eight litres of water a day to get a winter beach body. You won’t have to visit a gym either, unless you’re going there to use the horizontal bar (the one with the bottles on it). You won’t have to spend the months leading up to your holiday eating only beetroot during daylight hours (except for every second Tuesday, which is miso soup day) and you’ll never, ever have to eat celery.

5. A Winter Beach Body Requires Less Hair Removal. As the possessor of a winter beach body you’ll be less inclined to wear a bikini made from a shoelace or a pair of budgie smugglers so small that they can barely contain your budgie. This means that there’ll be less hair removal, which is good as hair removal is the most painful experience known to man (and the second most painful known to woman). I would sooner break my fingers with a piano lid than tweeze a nose hair, let alone pluck one from down there, beneath my trousers. A winter beach body means less pain. Or fewer pain, to be correct about it.

6. A Winter Beach Body Frees You From The Beach. With a winter beach body, you might find that you’ll want to spend less time on the beach, away from all of those preening show-offs. This is brilliant, as no one actually likes the beach. It’s uncomfortable, being made of either stones (which hurt) or sand (which chafes). It’s boring, as the number of people busy ignoring it and burying their noses in their books demonstrates and it’s frustrating, as your chips will be stolen by a seagull. If you spend less time on the beach, you’ll have more fun, and you’ll get to eat all of your chips yourself. Unless you’re a man. Your winter beach body will liberate you from the beach.

7. It’s Too Late To Do Anything Else. Having blithely ignored every magazine at the supermarket checkout and every other daytime television programme telling you how to get the perfect summer beach body for the past five months or so, there’s very little time left. This is good, as getting a winter beach body is quick and easy. It won’t be the perfect summer beach body as depicted in magazines (which are only ever perfect in the mind of the beholder, and never in the mind of the owner), but it’ll be your body. Take it to the beach and enjoy yourself, or even better, take it away from the beach and enjoy yourself. Oh, and don’t read magazines.*

*Do, however, read websites.

July 22, 2011
7 Reasons Not To Wear A Bee

Something odd happened in Hunan province the other day. Two men wore bees. Why? No one is quite sure. What we do know is that it is a jolly silly thing to do. Here’s why:

Marc went to extremes not to have to deal with yet more rubbish guest post submissions

1. Fashion. Hardly the outfit retail buyers want to see buzzing down the catwalk is it? It makes some of the outfits Naomi Campbell wears look quite normal. And that comes from a man who has always thought they’d look stupid on me. Naomi Campbell’s outfits I mean, not bees. Bees wouldn’t look stupid on me. They’d probably make me look like a high-street honey.*

2. Survival. What I haven’t worked out here is how you survive. Once the bees are on, how do you eat and drink? It’s not like a nine to five job. The bees don’t turn up, do their eight hour shift and then fly back to their hive for the evening. Once they are on, they stay on. Which is why there are two, bee-covered, thirsty men walking around China and no one is able to help them. They have got to be regretting that chat in the underground pub the authorities didn’t know existed until about now. (It’s disguised as a fake Apple store).

3. Mass Murder. As I am sure we both know, bees die once they sting.** So what happens if you make a sudden movement? In all likelihood the bees are going to get angry. And angry bees sting. Before you know it you are going to be standing atop a mountain of dead bees. It’s not a great look and you’d probably have to answer to some little madam from the NSPCBee***.

4. Ambition. Wearing bees can not be the pinnacle of achievement. For insects that sting you, they are relatively friendly when you consider other buzzy, stingy things like wasps and hornets. To only want to wear bees is a bit like only wanting to play cricket against Bangladesh. Or baseball for the Baltimore Orioles. There is so much more to achieve. Which worries me significantly. A man who tries to wear hornets is a man who should only do so in downtown Paris.

5. Sitting Down. Oooh, tingly.

6. Modesty. As an item of clothing goes, bees are hardly reliable. I can easily foresee the embarrassment now. There you are, walking down the road covered in your bee onesie only for the Queen Bee to die. Then what happens? Yep, you guessed it, all the other bees fly off. Leaving you completely starkers on a zebra crossing. Not a pretty sight. Especially as you didn’t ‘honey’ comb your hair.****

7. Car Mechanics. Not only would being covered in bees hinder your ability to do your job properly (I expect – though Kwik-Fit weren’t covered in bees and yet still failed to fix the squeaky wheel on my skateboard), you’d also get constant heckling. “Oi mate! Who put a bee in your bonnet?!”***** It’s probably not worth the hassle.

*Sorry. I’m not proud of that.

**The place to correct me for such factual inaccuracies is in the comments section below. I thank you.

***Sorry. I’m not proud of that either.

****Nor that.

*****That’s quite good isn’t it? Oh, okay. Sorry.

July 21, 2011
7 Reasons Not To Throw A Foam Pie At Rupert Murdoch

You probably hadn’t considered throwing a foam pie at Rupert Murdoch. Nor, I must confess, had I, until Jonnie Marbles turned up at the House of Commons earlier today and threw a foam pie at Rupert Murdoch. Then I considered it. After a half a nanosecond or so of consideration, I came to the conclusion that throwing a foam pie at Rupert Murdoch is an imbecilic act. I know that most right-thinking people will probably already have come to a similar conclusion about the merits of throwing foam pies at Rupert Murdoch, so they need read no further; they can simply retweet this piece, press the Google +1 button at the bottom of it (and share it on other social media too) and go on their merry way. For all wrong-thinking people – that’s just you, Jonnie – here are seven reasons not to throw a foam pie at Rupert Murdoch.

Don't do this.

1. It Draws Attention Away From The Hearing. Hitting a man in the face with a pie is a dramatic and attention-grabbing act. Because of that, a lot of the focus of the coverage of the Murdochs’ appearance before the Commons Culture, Media and Sport Select Committee, will be about the pie, rather than the important issue of wholesale corporate corruption that was being raised. Am I writing about the hearing? Are you reading about the hearing? No…well… yes, but only a tiny bit because I’m demonstrating how little we’re reading about the hearing because of the pie. Mostly what’s happening here is that I’m writing about the pie and you’re reading about the pie. I’ll also be reading about the pie when I edit this and eventually, once I’ve finished, I’ll be tweeting about the pie, even though the pie isn’t the point of the hearing. The point of the hearing is corruption. You’ve obscured that.

2. It Generates Sympathy For Him. With one blow of a pie, you’ve turned this man, the head of a corrupt organisation that has nefariously committed numerous despicable and illegal acts, into a victim; someone that’s deserving of our sympathy. Because, while every right-thinking person will abhor what was carried out in Rupert Murdoch’s name at the News of the World, that very same innate moral decency will cause them to see a frail, elderly man being subjected to an assault as an outrage. Because assault is an outrage, no matter whom it is perpetrated against. Even Rupert Murdoch.

3. You’ve Made Him Appear Lovable. It seems that making us feel sympathy for Rupert Murdoch wasn’t enough for you though. You’ve actually made him appear loveable. By provoking his wife to leap so rapidly and publicly to his defence, you’ve demonstrated that he is loved, and very loyally. You’ve taken a man that heads a sinister and morally-bankrupt organisation and caused us all to admire his wife’s love for him. In terms of public relations, you’ve accomplished more for Murdoch in five seconds than his own PR people have managed in the past five years. And you’re not even getting paid for it.

4. You’ll Look Incompetent. While I’m no expert on pie-throwing, I can’t help but think you’re not very good at it. You see, in my (admittedly inexpert) understanding of the act of pie-throwing, a pie is supposed to be thrown by the pie-thrower into the face of the pie-receiver, or victim as they are also known. But what’s going on in this picture?

That man appears to have been caught brilliantly smack in the middle of the face by a pie. But wait! That doesn’t look like an octogenarian media despot magnate. That’s you! You’ve attacked an eighty year old man with a pie and ended up wearing it. That’s possibly the worst throw of a pie in the history of pie-throwing. Throwing a pie doesn’t seem like a difficult thing to do, but you’re not competent to do it. You’re not fit for pie-pose (that only works if read in a New York accent). It was your big moment and you’ve ended up with metaphorical egg on your face. And actual pie.

5. Self-Publicity. It’s an oft-heard-phrase that all publicity is good publicity and this might be seen as having a certain truth to it. If you’re an idiot. For the rest of us, however, and I feel that I am speaking for the entire population of the planet here, you’re going to be forever known as the prick that threw the pie. Badly. That won’t help you with your comedy career. In fact, that won’t help you with any career, and certainly not one that involves throwing or pies.

6. The Police Won’t Thank You For It. The Metropolitan Police are reeling from the repercussions of the News of the World scandal and their reputation has been severely damaged by it, so sneaking into a commons committee that is being viewed by a vast worldwide audience and attacking a git with a pie is going to make them look feckless and incompetent right at the very moment that they probably don’t want to. Now, ordinarily, exposing institutional incompetence might be seen as a good thing, but not for you, because right at this moment, the Metropolitan Police are your landlords. They’re also your caterers; responsible for feeding you and bringing you the odd cup of tea. Probably, in fact, very odd cups of tea. Enjoy those!

7. “All The World Loves A Clown.”, according to Cole Porter. But that’s just not true, in fact, coulrophobia is one of the world’s most commonly professed phobias. What all the world hates, in fact, is a clown. A clown is a coarse buffoon who throws foam pies at people. That’s you. For some duncical, nitwitted, dunderheaded reason you decided to disrupt a long overdue attempt to make News Corp accountable for their actions by pratting around with a pie and you’ve ended up overshadowing an important hearing and distracting from the serious testimony that was being given there. You haven’t damaged News Corp and Rupert Murdoch, you’ve positively helped them. You are a clown. No one likes clowns.

July 20, 2011
7 Reasons To Wear A Sling

Last night I found myself in a sling. Not because I had done a mischief, but because I had immersed myself in a role-play situation. Reasons for this are seven-fold and may or may not appear on this site later this week. While I was sitting there being slinged-up, it occurred to me that I had been missing a trick for twenty-eight years. I had never worn a sling. And because of that I was missing out on so much.

1. Sympathy. Not for the Devil or indeed for Adam, but for all of us. If we see someone in a sling we automatically feel sorry for them. How did they do that? Are they in pain? Can I help them carry their bags off the train? Wear a sling and you will get more love than you did that morning from your so-called loved one. Admittedly you may have destroyed their eight year-old cactus by dropping a pair of wet jeans on it, but even so.

2. Innocence. If there has just been a terrible crime and there are blood soaked bodies all over the road – or a box of tea-bags has gone missing from Sainsbury’s – it’s easy to look around and identify the suspect. You might not mean to do it, but it’s automatic. “There,” you think, “that youth in the beanie holding a machete is responsible for the murders.” He might not be. He might be a nice lad out for a stroll. But in our panic stricken minds we play to stereotypes. “That man there, the one who looks like he broke his arm recently and is now in a sling, did he commit these atrocities? No, of course he didn’t. He’s in a sling.” So you stop watching him. And off he wanders with 240 Gold Standard tea-bags stuffed down his trousers. Never to be seen again.

3. Massage. The problem with massaging your own neck and shoulder is that your arm gets tired very quickly. Arms were not meant to be positioned across your body at an upwards angle. They are meant to dangle loosely by your side and whack into door frames or old women. A sling, though, will give you that much needed support. You can massage your neck, shoulder and jab your collar bone with your fingers all day if you wish. Who needs an osteopath?

4. Discrimination. I’ve been for a few job interviews in the last six months and failed to land any of the jobs.* The reason for this has just dawned on me. I am perfect. Too perfect in every possible way. As a result employers can easily turn me away without the fear of a lawsuit being filed against them for discrimination. If I were to wear a sling though, well, things would be very different. They wouldn’t dare not employ me. If they did they’d know that I’d complain. They know I would sight the fact that they discriminated against me because I was wearing a sling. It would go to court. I’d get a lot of money. They’d go into liquidation. I’d win. That is the power of the sling.

5. Bullies. We’ve all heard the story of David walking along Brixton High Street only to be faced down by the towering figure of Goliath. What did he do? That’s right, he slipped out of his sling, picked a hypodermic needle up off the floor and fired it at Goliath’s head. Down he went, all hypodermatised. A lesson for us all. If you’re being bullied (or just passing through Brixton) wear a sling. No one will touch you.

6. Adoption. A sling is particularly helpful if you are an actress wandering about in a foreign country. It is quite possible that you may see a child you quite like the look of. A child who you think would enjoy the sights and sounds of downtown Beverley Hills. A child you want to keep. All you need to do is whip your arm out of the sling and pop whichever child that takes your fancy in it. Simple as that. You then get your lawyers to sort out the payment.

©All rights reserved by http://www.flickr.com/photos/mommyknows/

7. Cold. In true 7 Reasons style we save the most obvious reason for last. The sling is basically just a big handkerchief. Which is ideal if you’ve got a big cold. Gone are the days of destroying rainforests for a box of Kleenex. Gone are the days of having to pile snot upon snot and then wiping it all over your face. A sling will allow you to blow your nose in the comfort of dry material at least six times. Thus curing colds in half the time a normal handkerchief would. Sometimes I think 7 Reasons should run the NHS.

*This is why I haven’t started calling myself Rebecca if you’re wondering what happened there.

July 19, 2011