Oranges. They’re a really, really poor fruit. Here’s a film which explains why.
7 Reasons That Oranges are Rubbish
Tag: Humor
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Russian Roulette Sunday: The Words Behind The Words Behind The Reasons 2.
Hello, it’s a Jon week. In terms of Russian Roulette Sunday anyway. In terms of general living, every week is a Jon week. If it wasn’t I’d be dead or something. And no one wants that. Especially Marc. All the reasons and all the lemons would drive him insane. So, anyway, back to today. If you were with us in January, you may remember we took a look at some of the words Marc and I have exchanged with each other in the making of 7 Reasons. Have a read here if you were washing your hair that day. Not only was it funny, it was very easy to write. Which is basically our ideal kind of post. So we’ve decided to do it again. Right here. Right now. Enjoy.“I think it’s fairly obvious, I’m a spaceman.”
“I haven’t done the same, that would be lazy and unhelpful.”
“I am now hungover and not writing furiously about lemons.”
“I may have something sensible to say later.”
“I think camp bingo is like gay bingo. But in a field.”
“Ouch.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
“Canasta.”
“Well done on the lemons.”
“7 Reasons Guy Fawkes Should Have Been Called Lady Spoons?”
“I’d like to point out that a man in Russia found your socks and sandals piece yesterday.”
“If I take the name of York’s most famous son (his birthplace is a four minute walk from here) in vain, an angry mob will probably form outside my door.”
“I shall have an Alka-Seltzer and some lemon juice.”
“That’s £22.50 each per month that we’re not making now. That’s progress.”
“In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have put it straight in. That’s ovens for you though.”
“I’m back! Did you miss me?”
“Would you be totally insulted if I said I didn’t?”
“I was writing about dough balls. It does happen occasionally.”
“The only thing I liked about it was the end. A bit like when my parents used to listen to the Archers at dinner.”
“How about a cat hoverboard?”
“Oh, and Esquire magazine bought David Baddiel lunch today. Have they said anything about buying us lunch?”
“Excuse me a minute, I have a Jehovah Witness shaped problem.”
“I’m not sure it’s totally necessary, but it looks pretty. A bit like Kate Moss.”
“Let me know if you need a lemon.”
“Nice lemon on the sofa. Very funny.”
“Marc. Spiffing. Jon.”
“I have added my thoughts in curly lines that look like sperm.”
“I’ve never liked the French.”
“I tried to write a piece about beards once.”
“I’m like the world’s slowest genius.”
“We are like the tortoise and the tortoise.”
“Something went wrong. I think I shut it too tightly.”
“Photoshopping top trumps cards is more time consuming than I imagined.”
“I’m off to visit the shed.”
“I’m off to the greenhouse of neurosis.”
“I’ve tried shouting at it and that isn’t working.”
“A boy just fell off his bike. I’m laughing. Shall I go and pick him up?”
“That’s like liking Hitler more than Atilla The Hun and New Kids On The Block.”
“Ken, when in doubt, pretend to be a grown-up. It never fails.”
“I don’t have an issue with it. It’s probably the sadist in me. Or the beer.”
“I don’t think you’ve said Zara enough.”
“I hadn’t forgotten that you’re going to Rome, as in my mind it’s a tiramisu-related-event.”
“Bollocks.”
“Is it a cow?”
“It looked funny and I googled it.”
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7 Reasons My Dream Was A Bit Odd
In a last minute change to 7 Reasons proceedings, the post originally planned for today has been postponed in favour of something that happened overnight. A bit like Martin Luther King, I had a dream. Unlike him however, I was the only one to witness it. Which is why I must share mine with you. Now. It was weird.
1. Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! I’m in a house. But it’s also a hotel. And an airport. It’s next to a London train station. It’s supposed to be London Victoria, but it’s not. So I’m in this house – which is also a hotel and an airport – and everything is going well. I am just wandering. Wandering around. Looking at plates and planes and….oh, a playground. I remember now, there was a playground. And then there’s a fire. Like Billy Joel, I didn’t start the fire, but if I don’t get a bloody shift on I’m going to burn to a crisp. (We’ll come to the crisps later). So I start running. And I find myself in a…
2. Room. It’s a bedroom. And it has a window. Two of them in fact. And outside of the window is a roof terrace. And a ladder into the garden. A garden which I can only assume is on the opposite side of the house to the airfield. I open the window and in a move that a contortionist or Anne Widdecombe would be proud of, manage to get myself through the smallest gap in the world. And with it, to safety. We then shift forward to…
3. The Next Day. I can only assume it’s the next day because otherwise I’d be re-entering a house that is on fire. And that would be stupid. And as I had the intelligence to get out the of house fire in the first place, I don’t believe I am stupid in this dream. So, it’s the next day and I am back in the room that I escaped from. There is smoke damage and Dr Howard Denton. You probably won’t recognise this name because he was one of my lecturers when I was at University. What the bloody hell he is doing here, I have no idea. But I don’t seem to care. In fact I am very happy to see him. Because he starts helping me look for my…
4. iPhone Charger. I must have lost it the previous night. Along with my wallet and car keys. Rather brilliantly I find my iPhone charger lying on top of a dressing table. Obviously that’s one of the most important things to do when trying to escape a house fire. Put your iPhone charger on a dressing table so you can come back to get it the next day. You’d do well to remember that. I am so delighted that I’ve found my iPhone charger that I give Dr Howard Denton my crisps. (Told you we’d come back to them). They’re Phileas Fogg range. Irish cheddar with onion chutney flavour. I know I’ve eaten some already because there’s a wooden clothes peg fastening the packet closed. You can say what you like about me, but I know how to keep crisps fresh. This is when…
…I wake up. My girlfriend’s shouting about babies. At least I think she is at the time. In hindsight I am not entirely sure she was. Either way, I show my caring side by asking her if she’s okay. She is, so I fall back to sleep. And I start dreaming again. And I’m back in another house. A house belonging to…
5. Judy Murray. And the only reason I know the house belongs to Judy Murray is because she has just walked through the front door and said, ‘What are you doing in my house?’ For reasons (probably less than seven) unbeknown to me, we go into the garden where I try and explain. Rather splendidly Judy has sofas and chairs in her garden. And I decide to put two chairs together to form a boat. I then explain to Judy that I was merely in her house to work because it was too noisy back at mine. She seems to understand and, for the first time in my life, I begin to like Judy Murray. Which is when everything becomes a blur until I find myself outside Judy Murray’s house. And in through the window of next door, I can see England bowler…
6. Steven Finn. He’s doing the washing up and not looking as tall as I had seen him on TV. To make sure it doesn’t look like I am stalking him, I get down in Judy Murray’s driveway and start doing press-ups. I’m obviously an optimistic dreamer because I do bloody hundreds of them. All while looking at Steven Finn. Until Judy Murray’s front door opens and out walks…
7. Judy Murray. She starts asking me if – while I’ve been living in her house – I have moved the car. Apparently the hedges look a bit bashed up. Now, I don’t remember dreaming about it, but I know that I did drive Judy Murray’s car into the flowerbed. Which is why I lie and deny I have been anywhere near her Volvo. Once again, she seems to understand. Which is when one of my old school friends rocks up and starts telling me how much he loved my film. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I say, ‘Thanks’ anyway. He then mentions he reads 7 Reasons. Which is when I wake up. Hopefully I’ll find out tonight whether he likes it or not.
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Guest Post:7 Reasons That Travelling By Sleeper Is Great
In the final instalment of 7 Reasons Transport Week, regular guest poster Simon Best, brings a touch of old school glamour to proceedings by travelling on a sleeper train.
1 Novelty. Part of the fun of travelling by sleeper is its novelty. There are only four sleeper services in the whole of the United Kingdom, but it wouldn’t be as much fun if you did it every day. Just imagine if your daily commute involved getting a sleeper to and from work (and no falling asleep on the train from Luton to St Pancras doesn’t count). If this was the case you would, essentially, be living on a train. Now I can think of worse places to live – France, for example or Slough – but that’s irrelevant, the main point is…
2. History. Boarding a sleeper is a bit like stepping back in time; even the name sounds like something from a 1930s Agatha Christie novel and it put me in mind of WH Auden’s poem ‘The Night Mail’, with its talk of cheques and postal orders (and that even rarer object the letter). I personally haven’t received or written a cheque all year and I think the last postal order was sent in about 1973. There is no longer a night mail train; now your Amazon orders or the clock you bought on Ebay are delivered by plane. The sleeper is still running. Travelling by sleeper is great because it is historic.
3. VIP Treatment. Normally catching a train is a stressful business. You have to wait on the concourse until the platform is announced – usually two minutes before you’re due to leave – and then it’s changed two minutes after you should have left causing you to either: a) miss the train b) knock an old lady over with your briefcase or c) strain a muscle hurling your suitcase into your carriage. This is not the case with the sleeper. It is always in the station an hour before it is due to leave. You’re greeted by your sleeping car attendant, welcomed by name when you show your ticket (you don’t get that on the 7:42 to Charing Cross do you?), you’re asked what you’d like for breakfast, when you’d like it, and shown to your cabin. In short, you’re treated like Michael Winner being escorted to the first class cabin on Concorde. Travelling by sleeper is great because you’re given VIP treatment.
4. Your Cabin. Once on board you make your way to your cabin, stow your luggage (there is no other train in the world on which you ‘stow’ your luggage you just stick it in a luggage rack and hope someone doesn’t put a huge suitcase on the top). You then proceed to play with all the gadgets, play around with the bed, open the little shelf next to the bunk, climb up to the top bunk and sit there, lift the cover to the wash basin, press the taps, open the blind, and close it again. Twice. Turn the three different lights on and off several times and adjust the temperature slider seeing just how hot or cold you can make it and like the controls on a shower then spend ten minutes getting it just right, which is invariably the setting it was on to start with. Travelling by sleeper is great because your cabin has more gadgets than the TARDIS.
5. The Lounge Car. Once you’ve become bored fiddling with the temperature and switching the light on and off, you’ll doubtless leave your cabin and stroll down the train to the lounge car. Here you can relax on a sofa and order a gin and tonic from the bar (well that’s what I’m having, what would you like to drink?). The lounge car even stays open all night but you can only get booze until one am because, as the stewardess said, “this is a train, nae a nightclub” (who would want a nightclub on wheels anyway). On American sleeper trains lounge cars even have observation decks, with clear roofs so that you can look out at the scenery as you travel along. They also go one stage further and provide actual in-train entertainment, showing films. I was once stuck on a non-moving train in the middle of the desert in Texas. When we’d been staring at the desert for three hours I got quite excited at the announcement that they were showing a film. They showed My Dog Skip. I should have kept staring at the desert. However the actual film is irrelevant. Travelling by sleeper is great because there is a lounge car.
6. Breakfast. Having chosen your morning beverage, ordered your breakfast and arranged your wake-up call when you board the train, you’re gently roused by the sleeping car attendant at the appointed time, with your breakfast which you can then eat in bed while the train rolls sedately through the countryside. Just be careful not to flash your nightwear at a flock of sheep. I love having breakfast in bed, except for the crumbs that you have to clear up afterwards. Travelling by sleeper is great because you get breakfast in bed with a view, and you don’t have to clear up afterwards.
7. Efficiency. We all like things that save us time. Think of all the labour saving devices we have in our homes: washing machines, computers, vacuum cleaners, electric carving knives (actually forget that last one). The sleeper allows you to go to bed in London and wake up next to Ben Nevis (or if you’re feeling more adventurous go to bed in Berlin and wake up in Warsaw). This makes it one of the most efficient modes of transport, as it allows you to travel a long distance and sleep at the same time. Something that is not advised if you’re driving a car or riding a bike.
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Russian Roulette Sunday: The A to Z of 7 Reasons (part I)
Crikey! It’s the first part of an A to Z of 7 Reasons. Whatever will they think of next? Yup, the second part. Almost certainly.
A is for Advertising. It’s something we haven’t quite got right yet. Since we blew the whole of our budget on an ad from Pearl & Dean, we have been kicking around trying to make the most of our own talents. Which is why we’ve created masks and stolen 1970s posters and changed the words. We’ll get it right though. Someday.
B is for Bath. Much of the creative thought that goes into 7 Reasons occurs in the bath. Many, many posts and website features have had their genesis there. The bath is a place of much 7 Reasons creativity. It is not, however, a place for 7 Reasons meetings. We won’t make that mistake again. Oh the horror.
C is for Cat. Or, to give him his correct name, Horatio Pyewackett Caractacus Fearns. This is who actually comes up with all posts for the Yorkshire side of the sofa. And probably explains all the scratches.
D is for Daily. 7 Reasons has a new post every day. Not always with the correct amount of apostrophes, but it’s there (or rather here) every day. We’re more reliable than the postman, more dedicated than god, and more committed than…in fact, we probably should be committed.
E is for Eighth Reason Competition. One of the better ideas Jon has had, though that isn’t saying much. You may not have realised it, but it is still running. All you have to do is think of an eighth reason for one of that week’s posts and you may well win a badge. Well actually, you will win a badge. Because no one else will enter.
F is for France. We’re probably not welcome there. Perhaps as a result of this image.
Or as a result of this post. Or this post. Or this post.
G is for Guests. Every Saturday someone joins us on the sofa. And they’ve come up with some intriguing observations. Things about gussets; and cricket kits looking like bananas; and freckles. And, rather frustratingly, they always prove the most popular posts of the week.
H is for Hell’s teeth! Which is what I exclaimed when 7 Reasons was first read in Ulaanbaatar. Strange that someone in Mongolia would want to know why Marc’s afraid of Flamenco dancers but there you go. The world: It’s a bit odd.
I is for Intelligence. This is something Marc and Jon are still striving for. Though until 7 Reasons is finally put to rest, they’ll go on looking at plant pots and Germans and tortoise shells and thinking there are 7 Reasons right there.
J is for Jennifer. Jennifer Aniston. Ah Jennifer, Jennifer. Jen Jen. One day we feel sure that you’ll respond to our phone calls/emails/faxes/letters/texts/tweets/notes written on beermats and pushed under your door/petrarchan sonnets performed from the depths of your garden hedge. One day. One fine day. One happy, happy day. One glorious day.
K is for Kent (via Sussex). This is where the first half of the 7 Reasons team is based. If we are doing it in alphabetical order. If we’re doing it in height order, it would be the second half. But we’re not. We’re doing it in alphabetical order. So it’s the first half.
L is for Lucubration. Like most good things, much of the work that goes into 7 Reasons happens at night, while mere mortals are sleeping or watching television or knitting or whatever people do at night when they’re not writing. They edit probably. We don’t know what they do, we are busy. We write. At night. Oh, and during the day too. We just wanted to show off our fancy word.
M is for Muppet. If it wasn’t for muppetry, you wouldn’t be reading this A-Z now. All will become clear next week. We’re very excited about next week. Be sure to clear three minutes and seven seconds in your diary next Sunday. We’ve cleared six minutes and fourteen seconds, but then there are two of us. Did we mention that we’re excited?
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7 Reasons Marc Is Wrong About The Nautical Look
Yesterday, Marc wrote a post called, 7 Reasons That The Nautical Look Is Objectionable. I read it aghast. How could someone so intelligent be so wrong? Today, I aim to put right his wrongs.
1. Saturation Point. Too much of a thing is never good – which is why I’m editing this with a hangover – and the nautical look is everywhere. It’s finally reached saturation point and now it seems that almost every woman in the UK is dressed as a sailor. Now, there’s nothing wrong with women dressing as sailors, or anything else that takes their fancy, but that doesn’t mean that every woman should dress as one. Wouldn’t it be nice to see some of them dressing in outfits without horizontal stripes and rope motifs? Perhaps as spacewomen or conquistadors. Or Minnie Mouse. Or just as themselves. Our high streets look like a production of HMS Pinafore at the moment. What Marc seems to be forgetting here is why nearly every woman in the UK is dressing as a sailor. It’s fairly simple. This is the UK. We are a sea-faring nation. It’s in our blood. So when Marc asks why aren’t women dressing as Minnie Mouse or conquistadors, it’s because British women have no emotional attachment to these themes. And because they’d look stupid.
2. Confusion. It’s confusing. Sailors are sailors: we can tell that by their uniforms and their weatherbeaten faces. Women are women: we can tell that because they smell nice and have soft hands. But the nautical look blurs the issue somewhat. No, it doesn’t. Nor is it confusing. It might be confusing to Marc, but that is because he doesn’t have the required imagination. I see nothing wrong with this overlap. In fact I see a very positive outcome. The classic ‘woman dressed as a sailor’ fantasy. Allow me to demonstrate using science…or maths (It’s definitely one of those things).
A Venn diagram illustrating the 'woman dressed as sailor' fantasy. 3. Anchor. When choosing an outfit with a decorative motif, is it really wise to choose one that rhymes with wanker? Yes, it is. Much more wise than to have a decorative motif of – and I do apologise in advance for saying this – a punt.
4. The Next Step. Many women are currently dressing as sailors, but what if this fad takes a slight twist? What if sailors start dressing as women? A fair point you would think. Unfortunately, Marc has this the wrong way round. It’s the fact that sailors originally started dressing as women – in the 1800’s when men were on ships together for months and months on end – that has made the women adopt the nautical theme for themselves.
5. Weather. Now I’m sure the nautical look would look fine and dandy when worn on the back of a motor-yacht moored in Porta Banus or Cannes. But it isn’t. It’s being worn in Manchester, where it rains all summer. The last time I checked, rain was wet. And it formed puddles. The sea is wet and is one big puddle. Wet weather, therefore, would seem to be perfect for the nautical look.
6. Do It Properly. The nautical look is being done in a half-hearted manner. Wearing a stripy top under a blue jacket is lame. If you want to do the nautical look well, wear a tricorn hat, an eye-patch, a peg-leg, a hand-hook; carry a parrot around. Wear vast epaulettes dripping with gold braid and the full cuff insignia of an Admiral; accessorise your outfit with a telescope or a sextant. Ditch your umbrella in favour of a Sowester hat, oilskins and a life-jacket. Grow a beard. This isn’t really doing it properly. This is dressing like a pirate. Marc wants you to drop your nauticals in favour of his pirate vision. Don’t do it.
7. Paris Hilton. Paris Hilton’s a big fan of the nautical look. Paris Hilton’s also an idiot. Do you really want to dress like an idiot? I use Paris Hilton as a general guide to life. You can too. Whoever you are, whatever you’re about to do, ask yourself the question: Would Paris Hilton do this? If the answer is yes, don’t do it. Okay, he’s not totally wrong here. Marc is right on one aspect. Paris Hilton is an idiot. But actually, if we are honest with ourselves, we are also a little bit jealous. Paris Hilton is a millionairess – in her own right – for doing pretty much nothing with no talent. I like that idea. I like the idea of becoming a millionairess for doing pretty much nothing, with no talent. And, if adopting the nautical look is part of the ‘doing nothing’ masterplan, then I’m in. And I’m not even a woman.
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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.
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Russian Roulette Sunday: Advertising Take II
Hi! Marc here again. Last week, as you may recall, we blew our entire advertising budget on a film by Pearl & Dean. To be honest, we were a bit disappointed by it. We were so disappointed, in fact, that we thought we could probably do better ourselves. We reasoned that with my capacity for historical perspective and Jon’s talent for understatement and his innate modesty, it wouldn’t be too difficult to put together a simple and cheap – yet memorable – advert for our website. Here it is:
7 Reasons Advert II
So, in conclusion, please send donations to:
The 7 Reasons Advertising Fund
7 Reasons Towers
London
W12 7RJ
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Russian Roulette Sunday : Advertising
Hi, Marc here. Happy Sunday. At 7 Reasons we’re very serious about bringing a new audience to our website and we work very hard to spread the word about it. We don’t have much of an advertising budget though – which is why we’re always delighted when people retweet our work and use the Share buttons – but we thought that, as we’ve already got our own money invested in 7 Reasons, we really should splash out a bit on advertising. Now we couldn’t afford much but we reasoned (that’s our speciality) that with the global economic downturn, and Jon’s contacts in the advertising business, we should be able to find someone that could professionally put together an advert to suit our budget. The guys that made it haven’t worked for a while, so they were delighted to help. Here’s what they came up with.
7 Reasons Pearl & Dean Advert
So, to summarise, please keep retweeting and using the Share buttons. Thanks.
