7 Reasons

Tag: Humour

  • 7 Reasons They Treat Me With Suspicion In The Pharmacy

    7 Reasons They Treat Me With Suspicion In The Pharmacy

    7 Reasons They Treat Me With Suspicion In The PharmacyMy girlfriend asked me to pick a prescription up for her. Oh dear.

    1.  The Set-Up. ‘Hello,’ I say, ‘I’ve come to pick a prescription up for my girlfriend’. ‘Okay,’ the pharmacist replies. This is good. I had worried the pharmacist might treat me with suspicion. But men picking up prescriptions for their girlfriends is obviously something he sees a lot. ‘What’s the name?’ he asks me. ‘Claire Elizabeth Quinn,’ I say. Or at least that is what I meant to say. Instead I can’t quite get the words out and end up saying, ‘Clar Lizabet Queen’. ‘Pardon,’ he replies, now viewing me with slight suspicion.

    2.  The Name. I know my girlfriend’s name. I know it off by heart. I have said it hundreds of times. I should just say it again. I can do that. Only I don’t. I actually look at the piece of paper I have in my hand and read from it. I am reading my girlfriend’s name out! I am acting as if I don’t know her! I look up and the pharmacist is looking at me. He is actually looking right at me. As if I’m a bit insane. Either that or as if I am someone trying to pick up drugs that aren’t mine.

    3.  The Search. After what seems like a five minute pause, the Pharmacist starts looking for the prescription. And he keeps looking. And he keeps looking. But he can’t find it! He turns back to me. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking, ‘Is this guy genuine?’ But what is worse, he knows, that I know, that he is thinking, ‘Is this guy genuine?’. I shuffle uncomfortably.

    4.  The Pharmacist’s Assistant. The pharmacist calls for back-up. It appears in the form of a woman from behind me. I hadn’t even seen her when I walked in. Was she hiding? Was she a body language expert? Could she identify a prescription stealer just by looking at someone’s shoulders? Oh, this is stupid. Why am I feeling conscious? I really am Clar Lizabet Queen’s boyfriend. ‘Just a minute,’ she says to me. Oh my goodness! She’s going to call the police!

    5.  The Address. But she doesn’t call the police. Instead she shouts out from a room to the back of the pharmacy, ‘What’s the address?’ Oh no! What’s the address? I can’t remember the address! I can’t remember my address! I feel a knot tighten in my stomach. ‘Stay calm’, I tell myself, ‘just focus’. I take a deep breath, open my mouth and give her my address. It’s definitely the right address. I’m sure it’s the right address. I think.

    6.  The Wait. But then all there is silence. No confirmation that I had indeed named my address correctly. Just silence. And then the pharmacist goes to the back of the shop and suddenly I am alone. And the silence is all around me. What are they doing? I look around. I see women’s things. The pharmacy is full of women’s things! Thankfully the pharmacist’s assistant reappears. ‘It won’t be a minute,’ she says. ‘Thanks,’ I reply. But I’m not really thankful because she has gone to her place of hiding in the front of the shop again and I can feel her staring into my back.

    7.  The Handover. Eventually the pharmacist himself appears and hands me the prescription. But I can tell he’s still not sure. He’s still not sure about me. He’s loathed to hand it over to me. It seems ever-so-slightly like it’s stuck to his hand. I feel bad snatching it from him. I give him my thanks and leave the pharmacy. My walk home turns into a jog. I hide in the garden.

  • 7 Reasons I Am Rubbish At Origami

    7 Reasons I Am Rubbish At Origami

    7 Reasons I Am Rubbish At Origami

  • 7 Reasons Ironing Is Dangerous

    7 Reasons Ironing Is Dangerous

    7 Reasons Ironing Is Dangerous

    1.  Ironing Board Covers. Goodness knows why man can’t invent a cover that actually fits the ironing board properly. I don’t know, maybe it is just one of those impossible challenges. Like building a pyramid upside down. Anyway, an ironing board cover that decides to flap around and generally not stay where it is meant to, really annoys me. So much so that I might kick out. Unfortunately, the same git who decided not to design the cover properly, also left sharp bits of metal on the underside of the board.

     

    2.  Calluses. In the same way that one might gain calluses on their finger tips as they play the guitar, I am developing them where the fingers meet the palm of the hand. Not dangerous in itself, but a sign that I am developing a reputation for being someone who likes ironing. And that is a very dangerous reputation to live with.

     

    3.  RSI. No not Repetitive Strain Injury, but Ridiculously Short Ironing-Board. How the bloody hell am I supposed to remove all the creases from the duvet cover if I can only iron 12% of its surface area at anyone time? The rest just creases itself on the floor. So I have to do it again. And again. And again. Until I become an addict. And addictions are dangerous.

     

    4.  Trip Hazards. And while we are talking about my duvet cover creasing itself on the floor, I must also point out that it’s also trip hazard. Or at least 88% of it is. Poxy thing. I have enough trouble staying upright as it is. I don’t need props.

     

    5.  RSI. No, not Ridiculously Short Ironing-Board – we’ve dealt with that already – but Repetitive Strain Injury. There are only so many movements you can make with an iron – assuming you are doing the job properly anyway. Right to left or left to right seem to be the only options. I would love to do top to bottom, but whoever invented bras made it impossible.

     

    6.  Sharks. You may be thinking, ‘How they hell do sharks make ironing dangerous?’ Trust me, if you are doing your ironing on a surfboard the last thing you need to worry about is whether your girlfriend is going to notice that iron shaped burn.

     

    7.  People. They generally don’t like it when you iron their clothes. Especially if: (a) they are complete strangers and (b) they are wearing them at the time. Usually this will result in either: (a) a punch, (b) an arrest warrant or (c) both.

  • Russian Roulette Sunday: 7 Reasons: The Trailer: The Trailer

    Russian Roulette Sunday: 7 Reasons: The Trailer: The Trailer

    The Russian Roulette Sunday Logo

    It’s Russian Roulette Sunday again and once more the saga of advertising our website rears its head.  We currently have a trailer – rather catchily entitled 7 Reasons: The Trailer – under construction.  We promised it to you several weeks ago, and it still isn’t ready yet.  It’s been a nightmare saga of broken computers, missing cameras, temperamental hairdryers and complications with rendering and frame rates so dull that overhearing talk of them would kill a casual listener stone dead; the making of Fitzcarraldo was probably less problematic.  But progress is being made, and now we are at the stage where we can present 7 Reasons: The Trailer: The Trailer.  This, we firmly believe, is progress, and so certain are we that the completion of 7 Reasons: The Trailer is within sight that we’re prepared to state – confidently – that it will be ready soon (ish).

    7 Reasons: The Trailer: The Trailer

  • 7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Date A Polar Bear

    7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Date A Polar Bear

    Polar Bear On A Date

    1.  Inuits, Yupiks, Chukchis, Nenets and Russian Pomors. You are really going to piss them off. To them, a polar bear is the ultimate utility. They use the fur for trousers, fat for fuel, the gallbladder for medicinal purposes and the teeth as amulets. You start dating a polar bear and the Inuits are going to have to start walking around with bare legs.

    2.  Bathroom Usage. If you do insist on dating a polar bear, then you have to understand one thing. You will never be able to use your bath again. The polar bear will see this as their natural environment. They will sleep in it, splash around in it, hunt in it and get bath salts in uncomfortable places in it. You’ll also get the water board investigating a major leak.

    3.  Eating. A polar bear’s diet isn’t a very mixed one. They like seals. Particularly bearded ones. It’s not the most comfortable thing to have to order in the local Harry Ramsdens. Especially when you have to add that the polar bear is going to batter it themselves.

    4.  Meeting The Parents. Never the easiest thing to do. Especially when you’re dating a polar bear. Thankfully, your parents were very understanding/scared and so those introductions went swimmingly. Literally. You all met in your bath. Now though, it’s your turn to meet the polar bear’s parents. In the Arctic. You think you’ve prepared well. You have all the thermals on and a distress flare stuffed down your trousers. Nothing can go wrong. Until you meet them. And you realise they all look the bloody same.

    5.  Games. We may be getting older, but there is a still a bit of the child in all of us. Some more than others it must be said. Occasionally we do like to be a bit silly and play a game. Catch, Frisbee, Twister etc. These are all fine and I can assure you that the polar bear will love them. What you don’t want to play, though, is Hide & Seek. Particularly if your walls are painted white. You’re going to be playing for bloody ages.

    6.  Habits. It would be nice to think that on your return home after a long day at work, the polar bear has made a nice meal for you. Unfortunately this is little more than wishful thinking. All too regularly you’ll come home to find them perched atop a pile of ice cubes watching Seal or No Seal on the Nature Channel.

    7.  Romance. Against all the odds, it is going well. You’ve got over the fact that seal whiskers are being left all over the bathroom floor and the polar bear no longer smacks you around the side of the head whenever you pop a Fox’s Glacier Mint into your mouth. It might be time to move it to the next level. You’ve taken the polar bear out for the evening, wine and dined and danced the night away, now you are in the taxi. A paw gently brushes your thigh before the polar bear moves towards your ear and whispers, ‘I’m going to eat you alive later’.

  • Russian Roulette Sunday: There Is No Such Thing As A Psychic Octopus

    Russian Roulette Sunday: There Is No Such Thing As A Psychic Octopus

    Russian Roulette SundayWhat is it about the name Paul? Half the world becomes convinced that an octopus is psychic and half of Paul Gascoigne thinks that a murderer wants to do a spot of fishing. Rather worryingly, that was his sane half. We need to return to normality and thankfully this is where I step in. For all of you who have been taken in by Paul the Octopus, you need to watch this. He’s not psychic. He’s a chancer. Just like me.

     

    There Is No Such Thing As A Psychic Octopus

  • Guest Post: 7 Reasons Not To Move House

    Guest Post: 7 Reasons Not To Move House

    Returning to the 7 Reasons sofa for his second stint as a guest poster is student and Muse fanatic Rob. A. Foot. When he’s not loading the back of removal vans he can be found playing his saxophone/piano/harp/french horn/penny whistle (all at the same time) on his blog, There Is Music In The Breakdown.

    7 Reasons Not To Move Home

    1.  Tidying. A horrible piece of collateral that comes with moving. First of all, you have to tidy up the clutter that has gathered around the house since the day you moved in. No matter how tidy you think you’ve kept the house, there’s always more. Looked behind the sideboard? The plant pot? Under the sofa? There’ll be more behind the desk, all those little things that have been knocked off over the years. Good luck picking up all of that rubbish.

    2.  Estate Agents. Widely regarded as the slippery eel career, a nasty necessity of the moving business. First of all you have to show a number of them around your house, just so you can see how much money they think that they can get out of the poor sod who has to buy your house. Then you hand over a key to them. The equivalent of handing the key to heaven to Lucifer, but with slighty less ramifications to all humanity.

    3.  Having people look round your house*. So, you’ve tidied your house, chosen the most ambitious estate agent, now you just have to do one little thing. Find someone who actually wants to buy it. Hmm. That means having people look round. Which means polishing every visible surface until you can see the inevitable fly in the air, hovering around the house and not wanting to leave. Then you leave the house in the hope that the estate agent doesn’t scare off any potential buyers, and that the fly hasn’t started breeding.

    4.  The post-visit call from the estate agent. So, did the people like it? Or did they think that the garden wasn’t big enough for the horses that they planned to get? Well, they’re certainly not going to tell you their concerns to your face, they aren’t going to be that impolite. So, you wait for the call from the estate agent to hear what the damage is, and how little they want to move into your house. So you then repeat steps 3 and 4 until, mercifully, someone decides that they want to buy the house. Then you get more problems for your trouble.

    5. Finding a house. So, you’ve finally managed to sell your house. But, it has taken so long, you’ve lost the original ambition and optimism that arrive with putting the house on the market, when you scouted around for suitable houses. All the houses that looked to be perfect were sold months ago, so you now have to find something that will always pale to that ideal house which you had found. It now becomes a slog as you look round house after house, all with their flaws. Until you give up and go for the least bad house.

    6.  Moving Day. I consider myself a veteran of moving days. Having experienced 7 of these in the 17 years of my life, I’m getting bored of them, to say the least. First, you have to make sure that you have packed everything away in the correct boxes and that they’re sealed up and marked correctly. Then, check that you haven’t left something important and expensive, but small, say, a camera or gold plated iPod, lying in a corner somewhere, waiting to be left behind and found by the next family to live in what was your house. Then you have the fun moment of arriving at the new house and checking through every box to make sure that the removal men haven’t broken anything valuable, say, some expensive china crockery given to your parents as a wedding gift 20 years ago. Then you get to unpack. Fun.

    *7.  The surprise visit. The worst nightmare of any prospective homeseller. The people who “happened to be in the area” with the estate agent decide, on a whim, to have a look round your house. You’re lucky if you get a phone call half an hour before they arrive. So, you have a mad panic to make the house presentable, which, inevitably, doesn’t help much. So you edge around the house while they look round, trying to avoid confrontation, where they may ask what sort of fire is in the hearth, when it is clearly an open fire. This is where a buyer bunker would come in handy. You’d stick it in the bottom of the garden, underground. You could kit it out with all that you need, a digital radio so you can listen to Test Match Special and a packet of Hobnobs.

  • Russian Roulette Sunday: The A to Z of 7 Reasons (part I)

    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?

  • 7 Reasons Marc Fearns Should Be Celebrated

    7 Reasons Marc Fearns Should Be Celebrated

    Keeping with the fine tradition of 7 Reasons founders celebrating their birthdays in June, today it is Marc’s turn. Now, I wouldn’t be the great man that I am if I didn’t dedicate this post to my fellow reasoner. So Marc, this is for you. And actually everyone else. Because you need to celebrate the great man. This is why.

    1.  June 18th. It might be a day in June, but apart from that, there is very little going for it. Sure, Delia Smith was born on this day, but so was Jason McAteer.* It’s about time we made this day special. A celebration of Marc Fearns is the way to go. And, if we celebrate June 18th, the day will probably go quicker.

    2.  Mystery. There is certainly an air of mystery about Marc Fearns. No one is quite sure how tall he is. No one is quite sure how old he is. No one is quite sure why he named his cat Horatio Pyewackett Caractacus Fearns. No one is quite sure how his brain works. But that’s good. It makes him intriguing. The last thing we want is to celebrate someone who is 5’8, 30 years-old, has a cat called Tibbles and whose brain works like clockwork. That’s been done.

    3.  Intrepid Experimentalist. You can say what you like about Richard Bacon – and many people do – what you can’t accuse him of though, is having a bad taste in experimentalists. There is little doubt that when it comes to cats, foil and the ability to walk, Marc Fearns is on the tip of Richard Bacon’s tongue. All because of this.

    4.  Rumour-Mill. What with spending most of your days making your cat walk over tin foil, it leaves a lot of time to muck around. Generally at the expense of others. Including me. The whole thing about me fancying myself? Marc started that. (No, seriously, he did). You may think me recommending you celebrate Marc – because he makes me look narcissistic – is an odd thing to do? Well, it’s not. In fact it’s quite logical. Sometimes, you are told something so much, that eventually you begin to believe it. Marc is the reason I am who I am. He could do the same for you.

    5.  Emotional Blackmail. How could you not feel sorry celebrate someone who looks like this?

    6.  Library Builder. Getting the builders in, is one of those things that fills people with dread. If it’s not how much mud they are going to traipse across the carpet, it’s how many tea-bags are they going to get through. Which is where Marc comes in. He can build a library in 90 seconds. And he doesn’t drink tea. If you want him to come and build a library for you, send him an email: [email protected]

    7.  7 Reasons. The 7 Reasons concept wouldn’t exist without Marc Fearns. I know there are two of us who supposedly founded it, but I have been pressing for it to become 1 Reason for a long time now. Marc is the one who keeps it ticking over. Who keeps driving it forward. So if you like the concept, then it is he who you should celebrate. If you would prefer to read 1 Reason on a daily basis, celebrate me again. Just like you did last week. You remember, that day you really enjoyed.

    *I have just discovered today is also the birthday of Fabio Capello and Sir Paul McCartney. It’s okay though. We can celebrate them all. Especially if England win.