7 Reasons

Tag: london

  • 7 Reasons That Gin is Never Wrong

    7 Reasons That Gin is Never Wrong

    It was my friend Jen’s birthday on Sunday.  She was drinking gin.  Via the medium of Facebook she suggested that I write 7 Reasons Why Gin is Never Wrong.  I didn’t like that idea at all, but I found inspiration in it.  So here are 7 Reasons That Gin is Never Wrong.  Thanks Jen.

    1.  Gin Is Good For You.  Gin contains all five of your five-a-day.  Have a (large) gin and tonic, and there’s a portion of lime.  Follow it with a martini, and there’s an olive.  Have a few more martinis, and there’s some more olives (plus a few twists of lemon if you’re on a health drive).  Then make a Pimm’s (the number 1 cup is gin-based) and lemonade and you’ve got a drink with the remainder of the fruit bowl plus a salad in it.  That’s all of your five-a-day.  You don’t even need to wash the salad because…

    2.  Gin Is Better For You Than Water.  It’s true!  Gin is medicinal.  In eighteenth century Britain, the water contained all sort of nasties; cholera, typhus (and other bad things that I vaguely remember studying at college and don’t have time to research now.   You’ll just have to take my word for it that water is bad.) and it was actually safer to drink the gin.  So that’s what people did until the government rather meanly halted unlicensed production.  If you consume your salad in your gin, it’ll be healthier than if you washed it.  Probably.

    3.  Gin Is Logical.  When people drink gin, it brings out their better natures and they usually do the most logical thing.  Let’s look at what people do when they drink gin at home.  They sometimes go online and shop (I’m sure we’ve all done it).  And when they shop under gin’s good influence, they always buy the right thing.  A pirate hat; a sports-car; a giant Anglepoise lamp are the sorts of things that people buy when in gin.  When sober, however, people buy monumentally dull things such as ink-cartridges, socks and salad spinners.  And who would – deep down, in their heart of hearts – rather have an ink-cartridge than a pirate hat?  And no one has ever, in the annals of human history, drunk too much gin and purchased a salad spinner.  That’s because gin makes you buy the right thing.

    4.  You Can Never Win An Argument With Gin.  It’s a fearsome opponent.  Argue with it and it will just stonewall you.  Every time.  You can rant, you can shout, you can be as incisive and logical as you like but you will never, ever win.  Its silence will overwhelm any argument and make you look rather foolish.  It will, however, clear you a nice space at the bar and prevent people from engaging you in conversation.  On balance though, you shouldn’t argue with gin.

    5.  You Can Never Win A Fight With Gin.  If arguing with it hasn’t worked, you shouldn’t consider fighting it either.  If you start a fight with gin, it’ll just hurt your hand or slip from your grasp, depending on whether it’s bottled or not.  And you’ll look silly.  I once saw a man in a park get into a spat with a bottle of fortified wine and – despite his commendable footwork and really rather impressive growling – he came second best and ended up out cold in a flower-bed.  And that was only fortified wine.  Gin is twice as strong as that.

    6.  Gin Has Anti-Gravity Properties.  Gravity is, on the whole, a good thing.  It stops us hurtling backwards when we sneeze and prevents our ceilings from becoming cluttered, but it has its drawbacks:  If you ever trip or stumble, beastly gravity will attempt to hurl you at the nearest horizontal surface, usually the floor (though occasionally a table and once, in my case, a canal) and it will hurt.  Gin counteracts this.  With the correct amount of gin within you, should gravity suddenly strike, you will feel no pain.  Nor will you be concerned about any indignity arising from a brush with gravity.  In a straight fight, gin beats gravity.

    7.  Gin Propagates The Species. When people drink gin in public, they make often passes at other people.  Has anyone ever made a pass at you in a tea-house?  No, probably not.  Has anyone ever made a pass at you in a bar (where there is gin)?  Yes, almost certainly.  So, there you go.  If it weren’t for gin, we’d have no children.  Which, ironically, would obviate one of the main causes of drinking.  But gin consumption is a necessary device for the continued existence of humankind: Now go forth and drink gin, you know it makes sense.

     

  • 7 Reasons Postage Stamp Errors Are Entertaining

    7 Reasons Postage Stamp Errors Are Entertaining

    Last week you may have read that the US Postal Service have made something of a cock-up. Instead of an image of the Statue of Liberty appearing on their postage stamp, it’s actually an image of her Las Vegas based replica. Wondering if this was a one off the 7 Reasons team decided to do some investigating. We were surprised – and entertained – to discover that it has actually happen many times before. Here are seven of our favourites:

    1. White House, USA. Incredibly, this isn’t the only error the US Postal Service have made this month. In the same batch of new postage stamp designs they also managed to use an image of a White House replica in Atlanta instead of the real McCoy in Washington DC. Luckily this error was spotted before printing began, but still a red face for the guy who has the shutterstock password.

    7 Reasons Postage Stamp Errors Are Entertaining

    2.  Christ The Redeemer, Brazil. As recently as the start of the year the Brazilian Postal Service got themselves into a lot of trouble by using an image of The Angel Of The North on their postage stamp instead of one of the statue of Jesus Christ that looks down on the city.

    7 Reasons Postage Stamp Errors Are Entertaining

    3.  Great Wall Of China, China. In 2005 the Chinese Postal Service made the catastrophic error of using an image of a replica of the Great Wall China on their postage stamp. The replica Great Wall Of China can be found in Splendid China – a theme park in Florida. Sadly, the head of the postal service paid the ultimate penalty.

    7 Reasons Postage Stamp Errors Are Entertaining

    4.  Eiffel Tower, France. To celebrate France’s hosting of the Football World Cup in 1998, the French Postal Service released a collection of postage stamps showing images of famous French landmarks. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell them that the Blackpool Tower is very much in Great Britain. Printing was discontinued, but not before 10,000 had entered circulation.

    7 Reasons Postage Stamp Errors Are Entertaining

    5.  Tikal Temple, Guatemala. The Tikal Temple which can be found in the Tikal National Park was supposed to appear on this postage stamp. Instead Mexico’s Chichen Itza turned up.

    7 Reasons Postage Stamp Errors Are Entertaining
    6.  Big Ben, UK. As patriotic as we are, we can’t overlook this howler from our very own Royal Mail. They must have had the work experience boy in this week because 5,000 stamps depicting a straw Big Ben rolled off the printer.

    7 Reasons Postage Stamp Errors Are Entertaining

    7.  Che Guevara, Cuba. Probably our favourite error comes from Cuba. This arty postage stamp was supposed to celebrate Che Guevara. Instead, it celebrates Tooting’s favourite son, Wolfie Smith.

    7 Reasons Postage Stamp Errors Are Entertaining

     

  • 7 Reasons I Am The New Rebecca

    7 Reasons I Am The New Rebecca

    7 Reasons I Am The New RebeccaHello. Regular readers of 7 Reasons will know that on Sundays we do things a bit differently. Well, today is very different. What you are about to read is a job application. A live job application. We have a lot to get through so I’ve broken it down for you.

    If you are a regular 7 Reasons reader head straight to (A).
    If you are a POKE employee (particularly one who is in charge of hiring me) head to (B).
    If you are the person who keeps finding our site by Googling ‘hot woman’ your day has finally arrived. Just stare at the picture.

    (A) Yes, so this is a live job application for the position of Social Media Copywriter. Very briefly here’s what has happened so far. On Thursday the London-based agency POKE announced they’d be running a live recruitment process via twitter on Friday. The aim was to find a new Rebecca to replace the current Rebecca who is going off to play her recorder or something. This was poor timing on POKE’s part as I was at a wedding on Friday. So, I needed a plan. I set myself up as @TheNewRebecca and then requested a bit more time. Luckily, I got it. Which is why I am able to apply today. Right, got that? Good. Ignore (B) and read my job application.

    (B) Hello future colleagues. Some of you might be here because you are following @TheNewRebecca (good choice) others might be here because you’re doing the sifting process. Whichever it is I shall try and make this as painless as possible. So, sorry I couldn’t be with you on Friday for the live application process, I was at a wedding. The good news is I have no more Friday weddings in my diary this year so I will make it into work five days a week. Hopefully you appreciate that kind of commitment. Right, that’s the formalities out of the way, here are my responses to the tasks.

    #poketask1. We have two Thor premiere tickets to give away on Orange Film Club. Think up a comp & tweet how you’d announce it.

    Quick! Help Thor save #OrangeWednesdays! Upload your most rousing speech to http://on.fb.me/oowfc. The best wins two Thor premiere tickets!”

    #poketask2. Someone complains that @PizzaExpress was too busy on Weds because of #OrangeWednesdays. Extinguish their grumpiness in a tweet.

    Ah, the by-product of being a genius. We all turn out on #OrangeWednesdays I’m afraid. (PS: Fancy beating the queue next time? Book ahead).

    EDIT: On Wednesday 13th April, @TheNewRebecca decided she’d be clever. She tweeted, “Yet again Pizza Express is heaving because of #OrangeWednesdays. I need someone to extinguish my grumpiness.” Unfortunately this backfired substantially when some even cleverer bod hiding beneath the guise of @OrangeFilm promptly replied, “We tried to respond with your #poketask2 response, but alas, it was over 140 characters. tsk tsk. ;)”. Now, I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t. Attention to detail is something of a forte of mine. So I checked. And I was right. 139 characters. Perfect. But then it dawned on me. Not many people have a username as short as ‘@’. Not liking defeat, I replied, “My defence: Yes, my response is 139 characters leaving little/no room for a username. However, it’s a DM. More special that way.” But I knew I was pushing the boundaries. Thankfully the time was just gone 6pm. The deadline for entries wasn’t for another 24 hours. Time then to reword my #poketask2 response taking into account a 14 letter username (based on @TheNewRebecca). So, here it is. My new #poketask2 response:

    Ah, the by-product of being a genius. We all turn out on #OrangeWednesdays I’m afraid. (Psst: The really smart ones book).”

    #poketask3. Tweet three ways you’d get people to enter your competition from task one.

    1. Pop-up video on the Orange Wednesdays website showing Thor (probably me in a Thor-like costume) urging people to act if they don’t want the darkest forces of Asgard destroying Orange Wednesdays. This would also be posted on the Orange Film Club facebook page and tweeted via the relative Orange accounts.

    2. SMS alerts sent out to Orange customers telling them that the existence of Orange Wednesdays is under threat.

    3. Regular tweeting of incoming videos throughout the contest from @orangefilm and @orangethefeed.

    #poketask4. Oops. We just wrote ‘exited’ instead of ‘excited’ on our Facebook wall & everyone’s saying we’re half-baked. What do you do?

    I write: “And when I say ‘exited’, I clearly mean ‘excited’. It’s true, I am having severe problems with my ‘c’s today. You should count yourselves lucky though, already today I’ve been asked to leave the office twice because of problems with my ‘r’s.”

    #poketask5. Someone’s posted on Orange Film Club: “Tracy, you’re an idiot”. What you would do/say?

    It depends on the context. If I feel it could be construed as ‘banter’, I would leave it and monitor the conversation. If, on the other hand, it was clearly posted with malicious intent I would delete it and write a general reminder to everyone that we are a friendly bunch and abuse won’t be tolerated. There’s a place for that type of thing and that place is ITV2.

    Of course it could have been Tracy who posted the message herself. In which case she is an idiot and I would ‘like’ the status.

    #poketask6. Think up a sticky, smart hashtag for our new project all about personalised Royal Wedding memorabilia. (Yep, you read that right).

    #DuchyUnoriginals

    #poketask7. Righty. That’s today’s tweet-a-thon over. Anything else you want to let me know?

    Well yes, there is actually. I think this would be a good point to announce that my name isn’t really Rebecca. Nor do I own a pair of orange shutter shades or a splendid moustache. The finger though, is very much mine. So who am I? Well, when I’m not being The New Rebecca, I call myself Jon and one of my side-projects is this, 7 Reasons. The premiss of 7 Reasons is simple. To give seven reasons for something, every day. And that is what my co-founder Marc and I have done since latter 2009. Topics have varied from 7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Date A Polar Bear to 7 Reasons You Should Not Kayak Across The Pacific Ocean to – just because it is mentioned in the tasks above – 7 Reasons To Have A Pizza Express Tattoo. Anyway, given that there were seven tasks, it seemed logical to use 7 Reasons. And it’ll also up our unique visitor count which will please Marc no end.

    And one final thing, just to show you I get results from innovative social media use, I met my fiancée by paraphrasing this guy.

  • Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Create The World’s Smallest Multinational

    Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Create The World’s Smallest Multinational

    We like to think 7 Reasons is a pretty big organisation. We have offices in York and somewhere in Kent. We have a website, a facebook page, half a cat each, a specially designed sofa and a presence in Jennifer Anistons ‘Most Wanted Book’. That’s pretty good going in anyone’s language. Or so we thought. Now, one man has made us reassess. That man is Sebastien Eckersley-Maslin. In just four weeks Sebastien created the world’s smallest multinational. With offices in Sydney, Japan, London, Paris, New York and San Francisco he has made us look quite stupid. And this is why he has done it:

    Sebastien Eckersley-Maslin
    Sebastien Eckersley-Maslin – CEO Sebastien International

    1.  To Show That You Don’t Need To Be Big To Be Big. It’s that old David and Goliath story – you know, the one where the little guy in the cool minimalist leather sandals kills the big bad giant fellow using nothing but a slingshot. Well, the spindly lad with the cool footwear, that’s me that is. The Sebastien International web series is thus a timeless tale that any Friday night drunk who’s ever landed a lucky punch on a pub bouncer and got away with it can relate to.

    2.  To Keep Osteopaths In Business. I visited 6 cities in 12 days to make this thing happen – Sydney, Tokyo, London, Paris, New York and San Francisco. And in a generous gesture to my osteopath (who will be manipulating my buggered back and neck from now until kingdom come), I flew economy the whole way.

    3. To Take On The US Navy In A Pull-Up Contest. My visit to San Francisco coincided with Fleet Week and I somehow found myself being challenged by burly US Navy recruitment officers to show my stuff on their pull up-bar. Fearing some 21st century King’s Shilling style press gang ploy, I nevertheless gave it my all. I left with burning biceps, clutching a Navy issue Frisbee. God bless America!

    4. Because Capsule Hotels Rock. Great Granddaddy Eckersley Maslin used to say: “Son, you don’t get rich by blowing cash on fancy hotels”. So on the Tokyo leg of my trip, I spurned the offers of the camera crew to join them at the Intercontinental, and instead opted for the simple joys of a capsule hotel. Having been made to shower and undress in a communal changing room and stash my belongings in a public swimming pool style locker, I made my way to my capsule. I slept like a…….cigar.

    5. Because I’d Never Have Got Anywhere If I’d Stayed In London. Quite literally! The one day of meetings I had in London, a Great British tube strike brought the city to a standstill. I’m convinced all London Underground staff had actually just pulled sickies and stayed home to watch the Ryder Cup. Whatever their excuse, it was bloody inconvenient.

    6. It’s A Great Way To Get On Camera. No one wants to make films about people lounging about doing nothing (apart from the French, and no one watches their movies apart from other French people taking a break from lounging around doing nothing). So if you want a great film or series made about you, you’ve got to think BIG and get on and do something BIG. Please now indulge me a quick plug for the Sebastien International web series www.smallestmultinational.com/webseries/ Trust me, you’ll like it.

    7. Because You Can. The simple fact is that with the right idea and the right support, any bright-eyed Herbert can take on the world (Herbert International does have a good ring to it.) Talking of support, (another shameless plug, I know, but do bear with me) I couldn’t have set up a multinational company alone, in twelve days without my sponsor SERVCORP. These guys provide serviced and virtual offices in most major cities across the globe. You can basically get an office, a receptionist, a dedicated PA and IT infrastructure at some of the most prestigious addresses in the world, for a tiny fraction of the price of actually renting an office – and without having to deal with all the hassle of finding and renting space. If you like the sound of “International” after your name or even just need a business phone number and address in your home country, you should check them out – www.servcorp.com

    For more information about Sebastien International and the project head over to www.smallestmultinational.com.

  • 7 Reasons That The Pole Vault is Weird

    7 Reasons That The Pole Vault is Weird

    It’s almost Christmas, dear readers, and what better and more seasonal topic is there to ruminate over than the pole vault?  Well, possibly just about any other topic but, as I was lying in bed, unwell, with a bit of a fever, my thoughts naturally turned to the pole vault (well, whose wouldn’t?) and it struck me that the pole vault is really, really weird.  Here’s why.

    South Korea (Korean) Pole Vaulter Kim Yoo Suk
    …and so does your sport.

    1.  Titular Obscurity.  We all know what the pole vault is, because we’re introduced to it at a young age.  But what if we didn’t know?  Other athletics events are titularly obvious; the high jump; the long jump, we know what to expect from those just by their names.   But what would we expect to see if told that we were about to witness the pole vault?  It sounds like someone jumping over a pole, or a cellar for keeping Polish people in.  Or leaping over a Polish person.  Or Polish people vaulting.  Or a storage area for poles.  What the name doesn’t convey is anything at all about what you can expect to see, which is a Russian man with a stick jumping over a bar (which doesn’t resemble the sort of bar that you’d want to frequent at all, it’s just another stick the other way up, balanced between two other sticks).  It’s literally all sticks.  I would rather watch the cellar full of Polish people.

    2.  It’s Cheating.  The closest relation to the pole vault must surely be the high jump; an event in which athletes compete to see who can jump the highest – something that we can all identify with and can do ourselves at home.  But the pole vault takes the noble pursuit of seeing who can leap the highest, and adds a long pole into the mix so that competitors can go three times as high as they would naturally be able to.  But why?  Of course you can go higher if you have a ruddy great stick to help you.  I can swim much faster than normal if I’m wearing flippers and Speedos with jet propulsion, but that doesn’t make me a good swimmer.   Fortunately, I doubt that they’re going to make the 100 metres backstroke with flippers and jet-thrusting-pants an Olympic event alongside the regular swimming any time soon, which is a good thing, because I’d look bloody stupid in that getup and I never win anything anyway.  And it would be weird, and we already have the pole vault for that.

    3.  They’re Missing The Point.  Pole vaulters vault to see who can vault the highest, but that’s not even the point of vaulting.  Because vaulting originated as a way for the Dutch to cross dykes (everyone glad that I’m not AA Gill at this moment?  Good, me too).  So the true measure of the vaulter’s prowess should be distance.  In short, they’re doing it wrong.  Let’s make them vault over a river; that would be true to the origins of the sport and a damned sight more entertaining.  They’re missing the point of their own sport.

    4. Exclusion.  It keeps better events out of the Olympics.  Because I don’t need to know who can jump very high with the help of a big stick.  I want to see people test the limits of human performance without artificial aid.  Do you know what I want to know?  I want to know how fast people can spin, because we just don’t know that.  I propose the one minute spin, an event in which each competitor stands within a circle a metre in diameter and has a minute in which to spin as many times as possible (clockwise or anti-clockwise, it’s freestyle), and the winner is the person who attains the highest rate of RPM.  That’s what I want to see, and then I want to watch them trying to walk back to their chairs and attempting to put their tracksuit bottoms back on.  Because that sort of spectacle would make the Olympics ten times better.

    5.  The Equipment Is Unwieldy.  And what right-minded person would take up the bloody sport in the first place?  If I were tall, athletic and good at going over bars (rather than sitting behind them. Still, two out of three isn’t bad) I’d choose the high jump.  Because it’s exactly the same as the pole vault, but you don’t have to lug a pole around with you as a part of your kit.  Because taking up the pole vault is like taking up the double bass or the tuba.  It’s absolutely ridiculous.  What if you were reliant on public transport?  How would you fancy trying to get on a rush-hour tube train with a seventeen foot long pole?  It’s difficult enough with a modestly proportioned holdall or a large satchel.  Okay, so you’d be able to hold the doors open for as long as it took to get on but, I speak with absolute confidence here, it would be a bit burdensome.  In fact, it would be a faff.  In much the same way that holding up the world was a faff for Atlas.

    6.  Double Entendre.  There is literally nothing that you can say about pole vaulting that isn’t a double entendre.  After all, it’s a sport which involves physically exerting yourself until you’re panting and thrusting a long, rigid shaft into a box before you briefly soar heavenward and eventually end up lying sweaty and exhausted on a mattress with a horizontal pole.  And if there isn’t scope for euphemism, metaphor, allusion and plain seaside postcard bawdiness there then…um…well there just clearly is.  And Wikipedia isn’t even trying for innuendo when it says, “…pole stiffness and length are important factors to a vaulter’s performance.”  It is impossible to discuss the pole vault without innuendo.

    7.  Confusion.  Because while the name pole vault, as we have established, is misleading, once you’ve accepted the illogic of it, you’re in for further frustration and disappointment.  When I was four years old and I started school, you can have absolutely no idea how excited I was when I was told that in the school gym there was a vaulting horse.  A vaulting horse, I thought with wide-eyed astonishment.  That’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard in my life.  They’ve got a horse that can vault!  A raging stallion that can shoot itself into the sky with the aid of a pole!  A pony that can rocket over a lofty bar!  A mare that can soar through the air and land on a mattress!  They’ve got a wondrous, magical creature!  The most awesome beast I ever will see!  They’ve got an athletic super-horse!  They’ve got…that wooden thing in the corner that looks like a weird shed for midgets? What the hell is that? Is life always going to be like this?

  • 7 Reasons This Magazine Has Ruined Everything

    7 Reasons This Magazine Has Ruined Everything

    Somethings in life, you just don’t expect. One such thing was my rejection from the 2011 London Marathon. It’s me, Jon, by the way. Just in case you are my co-writer Marc, and are wondering when the hell you entered the ballot. It’s the fourth time I have entered the ballot and failed. That’s quite unlucky. And for someone who despises failure in all its forms, a horrendous turn of events. I was so sure I was going to get an accepted magazine this year. It was my turn. It was my year. But I didn’t. I got a poxy, ‘Commiserations, your ballot application to run the 2011 Virgin London Marathon has been unsuccessful but there’s still a chance to run…’ magazine. Poxiness. Complete poxiness. And it’s ruined everything.

    Virgin London Marathon 2011 Commiserations Magazine

    1.  Targets. I work best when I have targets. Something to aim for. A deadline. A tea-break. Dinner. Mainly though, it’s a deadline. When I have a deadline, I know what I have to do. Everything is in front of me. Everything is clear. I can plan, I can re-plan and most of all I get whatever needs to be done, done. The same goes for my running. If I have an event to prepare for, I prepare for it. I have the motivation of a medal – and one of those foil sheets that make me look like a spaceman – awaiting me on the horizon. Without that though, the only thing on the horizon is an old woman waiting for a bus, and between you and me, I can’t be bothered to run all the way over to her. So I don’t. I stay in. And eat a biscuit. And yawn. And scratch. And eat another biscuit. And life sucks. (Apart from the biscuits). So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined motivation.

    2.  Money. This ‘Commiserations’ magazine is going to cost me a bloody fortune. Which, considering it was free, seems both ironic and calculating. If I had got one of the better ‘Congratulations’ magazines, I would have gone on a health regime. No biscuits; no crisps; no beer; no fun. Quick calculations show that would have saved me at least £15 a week. Multiply that by the twenty-four weeks until the London Marathon actually occurs and we are looking at a minimum of £360. £360! I could have bought 28,800 tea-bags with that! Instead I bought biscuits, crisps and beer. Unbelievable. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined my tea-based caffeine addiction.

    3.  Trainer Manufacturers. Nike; Adidas; Reebok; Asics; all other running footwear brands. One of them has lost a sale. Actually, probably two sales. If I had been successful in the tombola, I would certainly have invested in a new pair to carry me the 26.2 miles and a spare pair in case the others got dirty. As I’m not even going to be running 26.2 metres, I am not investing. Which means one the sports good manufacturers is not going to achieve as good a turnover as they may have done and as a result someone will no doubt get sacked. Hopefully a Frenchman. That at least will bring me some comfort. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined child labour.*

    4.  April 17th 2011. This is the date of the London Marathon. A marathon I will not be watching. A marathon I will be avoiding. A marathon that will make me frustrated and tetchy for the whole day. In my frustrated and tetchy state, I will probably be looking for trouble. I will probably want to kick something. And that’s bad news for any living thing. Or, if I choose something more sturdy, my foot. Either way, I’d avoid me. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined next door’s cat.

    5.  Alternatives. Last year, when I failed to attain ‘congratulatory’ status, I went looking for alternatives. Something else to fill the void that had been left in my life. I found it in the shape of a moustache. Or, more accurately, the shape of Movember. For a whole month, people’s eyes were abused by the sight of a ginger handlebar** adorning my face. And I didn’t enjoy it much either. Due to the London Marathon’s foresight, I may well have to do it again. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined humanity.

    6.  The Amazon. Not only have the organisers of the 2011 London Marathon upset me, they have also upset a tree. Well, actually, they’ve gone further than just upset it. They’ve beaten it to a pulp. And it’s not just me they’ve let down. It’s 100,000 others too. And that’s a lot of tree. Now, somewhere, in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest, is a clearing they call, ‘Commiseration Place’. And, somewhere, up in the atmosphere, is much more carbon dioxide than there ever should have been. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined the planet.

    7.  Peaks. My sexual peak was ten years ago – though, for many reasons, that seemed to pass me by. My cricket peak was eight years ago – though, for many reasons, that seemed to last little more than a couple of hours. My writing peak was last week – though, for many reasons, it didn’t equate to much when written down. My running peak is now. Right now. In the year that I am 27. But thanks to the London Marathon, I will not be able to utilise it. Instead I will have to wait until a year/two years/five years/ten years after my running peak to take part. And that’s a long time to rent a deep-sea divers’ suit for. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined peaking.

    *Thinking about it, this might be a good thing.

    ** Sounds more impressive than it was.

  • 7 Reasons My Dream Was A Bit Odd

    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.

    7 Reasons My Dream Was A Bit Odd

    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.

  • Guest Post:7 Reasons That Travelling By Sleeper Is Great

    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.

  • 7 Reasons You Are Wrong Not To Love The 2012 Olympic Mascots

    7 Reasons You Are Wrong Not To Love The 2012 Olympic Mascots

    Wenlock & Mandeville Olympic Mascots

    1.  Equality. Wenlock (he’s on the right) and Mandeville belong to a young boy and a young girl. Though for quite a while I thought the young girl was also a young boy. But this has clearly been done on purpose to show solidarity behind those athletes who are still deciding whether they should enter the Olympics as a man or a woman. Caster Semenya for example.*

    2.  Billy Crystal. Okay, not Billy Crystal per se, but the animated character he voiced in Monsters Inc. Mike Wazowski. He was a one-eyed monster and, at first, children were terrified of him. They had nightmares and all sorts. But eventually they got round to liking him. Loving him even. And that is what will happen to Wenlock and Mandeville. They may terrify you now, but come 2012 you’ll be making your own Wenlock outfits.

    3.  The Future. While we are on that point. This is 2010. The Olympics aren’t for another two years. Who knows what might happen in the next 798 days? We may get visited by Wenlock and Mandeville look-alikes from somewhere else in this universe. They might turn up and fix the whole global warming thing. And the economy thing. And mend your bike puncture. If that happens you can’t possibly tell me you won’t be happy. You can’t possibly tell me you won’t be immediate fans of Hemlock and Manderlay. So let’s have a little perspective please people.

    4.  Home Life. The boy and girl live with their grandparents. I don’t know why, but I am guessing that this is because, maybe, Mummy and Daddy have gone away for a while. Possibly to prison. Or maybe they were investigating volcanic activity in Iceland a few weeks ago. Either way, their Grandpa George does something very sweet for his grandchildren. He whacks a bit of steel into some quite funky shapes. The children are delighted. Yet all you can do is complain. Why can’t you be happy for them you heartless bunch?

    5.  The Beaver. Which would you prefer? Wenlock and Mandeville or Amik The Beaver from the 1976 Montreal Games? I for one am thankful our designers are no longer inspired by roadkill.

    Montreal Olympic Games Mascot 1976

    6.  Security. Let’s not pretend that some nasty people aren’t going to think about doing something bad during the games. If we have a load of one-eyed freaks guarding the stadia, I strongly suspect that they may think twice. Especially as I have heard that Wenlock v1.2 will has a laser beam that he can fire from his eye.

    7.  The Film. Still don’t like them? Still think we should have had a cuddly lion? Well, watch the film. It’s beautifully made, beautifully told, beautifully funny and beautifully optimistic. You beauty.

    *I admit this is in very bad taste. I am even a little bit ashamed of writing it. But I really was struggling for reasons. You understand. All complaints should be addressed to Marc Fearns.

  • 7 Reasons Not to Hate The British

    7 Reasons Not to Hate The British

    We didn’t make this – the internet sent it to us, and jolly good it is too.  If we were in the habit of coming up with an eighth reason we could add that we’re not French.   But we don’t come up with an eighth reason.  That’s not our job.  We only do seven.  Or, sometimes, five with with a lot of extra-shiny-words to distract you.  Not eight though.  That would be unthinkable.