Tag: Marc Fearns

7 Reasons International Cricket Captain 2010 Let Me Down

This week, one half of the 7 Reasons team will be revisiting their childhood. (The other half may or may not join in. We like living on the edge). Today we start off by looking back to the summer of 1998. As a 15 year-old, I spent much of my summer holiday playing, watching and indulging in cricket. Part of this indulging was many hours spent on International Cricket Captain. A PC game that does for cricket what Championship Manager does for football. Except that Championship Manager was good. Anyway, International Cricket Captain 2010 is out these days. It’s bound to have got better. At least that’s what I thought.

1. Run The Bat In! As a young cricketer you are told to run the bat in. Usually, this involves running the bat along the ground. Whoever designed this game obviously thinks it’s okay to run the bat in, in mid-air. And because of that, Ricky Ponting was given not out on 23, 54, 73, 75, 89, 101, 108, 11o, 118 and 122. He went on to score a match-winning 133 and the Ashes were gone. Despite Andrew Strauss’ 13* in England’s second innings. The one where we were bowled out for 46. Chasing 467.

2. Slip Positions. I don’t know about you, but I like my slips close together. If the ball goes wide of third slip, well so be it. It’s better than it flying between first and second. International Cricket Captain 2010 evidently likes a slightly more spread field. So spread in fact that I could probably drive a combine harvester between keeper and slip. If only the game had that option.

3. Aggers. I would say Jonathan Agnew is back for another stint as commentator, but I actually think it’s exactly the same utterances as he recorded 12 years ago. The only reason I hesitate in stating this as fact is because he sounds slightly more bored than I remember. I didn’t even think that was possible at the time.

4. Geoffrey Boycott’s Grandmother. If anyone has ever wondered just how good she is, I can’t help you. If anyone has ever wondered what her stance looks like, buy International Cricket Captain 2010. The batsmen – and they all have exactly the same set up – are clearly based on little old ladies.

5. Lord’s Media Centre. It looks like a hedge. Probably because it is.

6. Training. One of the things that really annoyed me about the original International Cricket Captain was that you could only train eight players at anyone time. Supposedly the rest of the squad just arsed around in the changing room playing poker and watching Trisha. I would have hoped that in the twelve years that have passed, this would have changed to accurately portray the professional era. Has it? No. I am still only allowed to coach eight players. And quite frankly, I don’t think Ian Bell listened to a word I said.

7. Attack! When a batsmen is at the crease you are supposed to be able to influence his attacking mentality. Unfortunately, some of the players seem to have a mind of their own and do whatever they bloody well like. An uninjured Flintoff deciding to block out the 19th over of a T20 against Australia for instance. I initially thought this was because I hadn’t earned his respect. That would be a nice little addition to the game and give it a sense of realism. Ten minutes after trying to work out whether this was the case, I exited the game without saving. Why did I think it would be a good idea to relive my childhood again?

September 13, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: Killing Three Lemons With One Cat

Hello! It’s me, Jon (the one with the ginger moustache and no feet if you’ve just been looking at our ‘About Us’ page). It’s Sunday and for a second Sunday in a row I am in charge of Sundays. Marc has taken the day off to be in charge of lemons. The more observant of you will have noticed a new category at the header of the site. ‘Top Posts’. As the name suggests, this category features our best posts. These have been determined by a number of factors, such as number of views, but it is in no way a definitive list. This is where you come in. In October, 7 Reasons will be celebrating its first birthday. We are already making plans and the lemon drizzle cake is only surpassed by the lemonade. On our birthday we would like to announce the greatest 7 Reasons post ever. As voted by you, our loyal, not so loyal and ‘how-the-hell-did-I-end-up-on-this-site’ readers. Our first aim is to create a shortlist of ten posts. And that, you’ll be pleased to hear, is your responsibility. Please feel free to check the Top Posts (and, if you are inclined, the rest of the site) and let us know which of the posts you loved/liked/thought were bearable. Then all you have to do is check back in two weeks time, when one of us (hopefully Marc) will have worked out how the hell we do a poll on this site. Thanks for your help!

Oh, and one lucky voter will win a signed lemon. Or two. Or ten.

September 12, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Make Sure You Renew Your Car Insurance

Another Saturday dawns and as it does a new writer appears on the 7 Reasons sofa. This week we welcome Chris Owens, who is probably just about the finest member of the Car Insurance team at MoneySupermarket.Com – the UK’s leading price comparison website. Right, that’s two sentences more than I should be writing on a Saturday, so without further deviation, I’ll hand you over to Chris.

Auto ©mxlanderos

I’m guessing most of you think you’re a reasonable enough driver – you’re pretty safe, tend to stick to the speed limit (most of the time), and have never had to make a claim in your life. But at the same time you’re sharing a road with a whole host of motoring mavericks and disaster-prone drivers that are a simply a car crash waiting to happen. Here are seven of the craziest (but true) car insurance claims ever made – and 7 Reasons you need to make sure you’re always covered:

1. Cars And Snow Aren’t A Good Combination. One cool customer thought it’d be easier and safer to take a taxi rather than risk venturing out on their own in heavy snowfall. Unfortunately, the clumsy cabbie skidded straight into the back of their parked car when he came to pick up his passenger.

2. Drivers Have Terrible Judgement. Anticipating traffic speed and giving yourself plenty of time to react are two of the first lessons you learn when you first start driving. It’s a shame that one unlucky bloke forgot these golden rules and caused a multi-car pile up because, in his own words, “I started to slow down but the traffic was more stationary than I thought”.

3. Buses Aren’t Reliable. You’ve pulled out of your driveway and set off for work first thing in the morning when you slam into the back of a bus picking up passengers. What’s your excuse, apart from you weren’t paying enough attention to the road? How about, “It’s not my fault, the bus is five minutes early” – strangely enough this motorist’s insurers didn’t see the funny side!

4. A Call Of Nature Can Cause Chaos. A driver was caught short and had to stop at the side of the road to relieve himself behind a row of bushes. When he had done his ‘business’, he returned only to find his car had gone. Just as he was telephoning the police to report the missing vehicle, he noticed some familiar looking tyre tracks heading down a hill. After running all the way down to the bottom of a grass bank, he found his car flipped on its roof and in need of some emergency repairs… someone had forgotten to put the handbrake on.

5. Life Is Full Of Tree-mendous Surprises. Many of us drive the same routes over and over again, so it’s no surprise we think we know our way home like the back of our hand. Sadly for one daydreaming driver, he reversed into the wrong house and crashed into what he charmingly described as, “a tree I don’t have”.

6. The Simple Law Of Gravity. It’s not too uncommon to see crazy pictures of cars crashing through the front window of a house, but what about when the roles are reversed? A house was being moved on a large lorry when it toppled over and fell off, straight onto the top a parked car. Only when the moving company finally owned up to its embarrassing mistake did the disbelieving insurance company actually pay up.

7. If All Else Fails, People Will Blame Absolutely Anything. And last but certainly not least, the black arts were the probable reason for an accident for one imaginative driver, who simply filled out an insurance claim form with the words: “Windscreen broken. Cause unknown. Probably voodoo.”

September 11, 2010
7 Reasons You Should Have A Music Festival In Your Garden

It’s Thursday! And to celebrate the day we present you with our third and final piece that was destined for the shelves inside Esquire, but didn’t quite make it.

1. Own Bed. No sleeping on the roughest terrain in history in a sleeping bag that is far too small for you. After the last act, you can just pop upstairs and collapse onto your dry, comfy mattress. And of course you won’t be woken by fifteen drunken idiots tripping over your guy-rope at 4am.

2. Bad Weather. If the British Summer decides to stick with tradition and deposit large amounts of water upon us each weekend, you can just move your festival indoors. No one gets wet, your girlfriend won’t moan that her make-up is running and you won’t spend the rest of the evening warning off blokes who have just noticed she isn’t wearing a bra.

3. Lost Belongings. There is nothing more sickening than waking up in your tent and realising that you lost your wallet and wedding ring last night. If you have your own festival though, there is no need to panic. Your wallet will be in the flower bed and your ring will be in next door’s cat. Your ring never ends up in next door’s cat at Glastonbury. Never. Though sometimes it is in next door’s cow.

4. Toilets. A customary hazard at festivals. You’re going to drink large quantities of lager – even if you don’t like the bloody stuff – and that means ending up in queue for the temple of bacteria that is the portaloo. What’s the point when at home you can use your clean bathroom? A bathroom that smells of your partner’s potpourri and doesn’t have 100 people waiting ahead of you. Unless you accidentally left your front door open, of course.

5. Prices. Let’s be honest, the admission price to stand in a field for three days is excessive. You could have driven to Estonia on a small motorbike for the cost of a burger and chips. And you always end up spending £10 on a novelty blow-up dolphin that has a slow-puncture. All in all, a waste of money. Have your festival at home and you can charge yourself sensible prices. And there’s more chance of having a puncture repair kit to hand too.

6. Better Yourself. Music festivals – despite the name – aren’t just about the music. There are workshops and craft stalls and clowns and people trying to get you to take part in yoga classes. Have a festival at home and you can do all these yourself. You can have a woodwork workshop that will involve you putting up those shelves that you have been meaning to do for six months. You can set up a stall and try to flog all your rubbish from the attic to unsuspecting neighbours. And you can take part in your own yoga class. Which will involve bending down to pick up another beer. And relax.

7. Dreadlocks. Most of the people at your home-festival won’t be pierced and be-dreadlocked. Unless, that is, you have dreadlocks and a piercing. In which case, what are you doing reading this bit? Go to the Fashion & Grooming section at once! In fact, did you steal this magazine?

September 9, 2010
7 Reasons You Should Choose Your Holiday Read Carefully

There’s so much to think about when choosing your holiday read and so much can go wrong. Here are seven reasons that you should do it carefully.

1. The Cover. People say you should never judge a book by its cover. But they do. Which is why everyone who sees your choice of book will automatically form an opinion of you. And it will probably be the wrong opinion. Take Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange for example. The Penguin Modern Classic version depicts a glass of milk. If I see someone reading a book that has a cover featuring milk I immediately think, ‘Cows. The reader likes cows’. They probably don’t. In fact, had I asked them, they would have probably shrugged with indifference. But that’s the peril of the book cover. To me, that person will always be a cow lover.

2. Trilogies. These are a big no-no. No one reads more than one book on holiday, so never start on a series that is going to take you a further two holidays to finish. By the time the second holiday comes around you’ll have forgotten what happened in the first book. This means you’ll have to read it again, only for the process to repeat itself on the next holiday. Basically, you’ll spend the rest of your life holidaying with the same book. And you’ll never find out who kills who or what the wizard said to the pixie or why the girl next door is so addicted to sex with vampires.

3. Love. Lots of people meet the love of their lives (or their night) on holiday. The last thing you need – having plucked up the courage and charmed a beautiful lady at the bar – is for her to come back to your suite and see your copy of How To Talk Women Into Bed resting on your pillow. That kind of behaviour is strictly frowned upon by the fairer sex. Apparently.

4. Language. When you take a book abroad, it’s disrespectful to your hosts to read an English translation of a book originally written in their language. In Barcelona, several people were upset to see me reading a translation of Lorca’s Yerma, but that was nothing compared to the reaction of Berliners to my English version of Mein Kampf. Never read a translated work. They were livid.

5. Practicality. The Da Vinci Code is the ideal book to take on holiday. If the weather takes a turn for the worse you can use it as kindling; if you spill your drink on the table, it’s quite absorbent; if you need to hold a door in your villa open, you can fashion a papier-mache doorstop from it; if you find that people are trying to engage you in conversation, you can pretend to read it (they’ll soon leave you alone). There’s almost nothing that this versatile book can’t be used for. Except as reading material, obviously. That would be stupid.

6. The Lord Of The Flies. If you have teenage children, do not take this book on your island-break with you. Okay, so it’s pretty unlikely that they’ll put down their iPods and PSPs for long enough to read it, but if they do, they may descend into savagery before you know it. And savages do not make relaxing holiday companions. As anyone that has vacationed in Ayia Napa will testify.

7. Airports. A copy of Frank Barnaby’s How to Build A Nuclear Bomb and Other Weapons of Mass Destruction would be a particularly poor choice of holiday read. It’s sobering, serious and thought-provoking; none of the things that are conducive to the holiday mood as you attempt to relax and get away from it all in your detention cell at Heathrow Airport.

September 8, 2010
7 Reasons August Is Too Early For The Football Season To Start

If you think that’s a slightly odd title – hopefully only for timing reasons – then we certainly understand why. This post was one of three that were originally going to appear in Esquire magazine. Due to space and content issues though, it wasn’t meant to be. We’re delighted to say however, that we can now show you what you would have read on the newsstands. If it makes you feel better, please buy a copy of Esquire, print this page and stick it in. If that wouldn’t make you feel better, just read as you normally would. The two other Esquire pieces will appear over the next two days. Exciting, huh? So here are, 7 Reasons August Is Too Early For The Football Season To Start.

1. Food & Merchandise. In August, the sales of these will just about be non-existent. No one wants a hot-dog or a pie in thirty degree heat. Neither does anyone want to buy a scarf. With clubs fighting for their financial lives at the moment, you’d have thought they’d want to cram December full of fixtures. It’s simple economics.

2. Sir Alex Ferguson. He’s red enough at the best of times. Making him watch football in August is just cruel. Both to him and to viewers of Match Of The Day.

3. Transfer Rumours. With the season starting in August, July will be full of unsubstantiated rumour. Such and such a player was just spotted at the services on the M1. This must mean he’s going off to sign for Manchester United. Yes, or more likely, he’s off visiting his best friend’s wife and needed petrol. And condoms.

4. Too Hot. August is predominantly a hot, sunny month in the UK. Hot, sunny weather affects the way football is played. Either we’ll develop a slower-paced continental game to cope with the conditions or we’ll carry on playing the traditional full-tilt English game and risk killing ginger people. Surely we could just wait for September? That would be the humane thing to do.

5. Rain. As a consequence of being hot and sunny, August is also one of the driest months of the year. At least during the week, when we are at work. At the weekend though, when we have things to do, the rain comes and plans are ruined. Cricket, barbecues, days at the beach. Whatever it is, they are ruined. And quite rightly too. That is what summer is all about. What can’t rain ruin? Football. Logic dictates, therefore, that it’s out of place in August.

6. Weddings. The school holidays run through August, as does the wedding season. And weddings are planned by women who do not care – or possibly even know – that you have something better to do at 3pm on Saturday afternoons in August; something that doesn’t involve dancing around the vol-au-vents. Basically, football ruins what should be the best day of people’s lives because the groom is sulking.

7. The World Cup. It’s just finished. The World Cup Final was on July 11th. And, England won and I still need time to let it sink in/England lost on penalties and I haven’t finished being depressed yet/England went out in the group stage and the sight of a football just makes me angry. (Delete as appropriate). It’s just too soon! I need more time!

September 7, 2010
7 Reasons Saint Peter Won’t Call Your Name, Chris.

Today I am not writing about marmite, but I am writing about Coldplay. I imagine you have a similar reaction to each. For those of you who now feel nauseous, let me put you at ease. When I say I am writing about Coldplay, I am actually addressing Chris Martin. Yes, I thought that might make you feel better. In what is arguably Coldplay’s finest effort, Viva La Vida, Christopher sings the lyric, ‘For Some Reason I Can’t Explain, I Know Saint Peter Won’t Call My Name’. For ‘some’ reason? No, no, no, Christopher! For ‘7′ Reasons. And they are as follows. (Includes explanations). Oh, and if you are one of the three people who have never heard the song, you can watch the Coldplay – Viva La Vida video. Here. Come back though, won’t you? You have things to read.

1. Crimes Against Music. I’m not talking about Coldplay (I actually enjoy your stuff), I am referring to your decision to take part in Band Aid 20. Your bit was alright, but couldn’t you have taken Dizzee Rascal out for a pint and locked him in a cupboard? Just for the afternoon. Perhaps you could have also taken Bono with you.

2. Distance. I suspect if Saint Peter does decide to call your name, he won’t actually ‘call your name’. I am assuming you believe that Saint Peter is in Heaven and thus he will be calling from there? Now, despite hoping – and indeed believing (no matter how irrational that belief is) – that such a place does exist, I have absolutely no idea where it is. Though logic dictates that it is a fair old distance from here. And hopefully even further from Slough. As a result, Saint Peter is far more likely to send you a letter. Probably same-day delivery.

3. House! Christopher, you seem to have the idea that Saint Peter calls out names as if he is hosting a night at Gala Bingo. While I am sure this would greatly amuse the other saints, I doubt very much it happens in such a way. I suspect he just waits until someone gracefully falls asleep and then whispers his name. Otherwise you’d get loads of people saying, ‘I thought I was going to die, then some git shouted my name and I woke up!’

4. Chris Martin! You seem to be suggesting that Saint Peter decides when it’s time you kick the bucket. And once he has decided he shouts out your name. I can’t believe this to be the case. I can’t believe Saint Peter is that selective. If he has any savvy – and as he is a Saint he no doubt has bountiful – he probably looks down on us and watches us do the deed for him. ‘There goes another one. He kicked the bucket, tripped over and fell off the cliff’. And Chris, I don’t think you’re going to fall off a cliff.

5. Lots Of People. I am not sure what powers Saint Peter has, but he’s going to have to be Paul Daniels, Derren Brown and Professor Charles Francis Xavier all rolled into one to remember every single one of the earth’s inhabitant’s names. I venture that what he actually does is have a sneaky look at your passport as you enter Heaven immigration control.

6. Rota Systems. It is generally accepted that 156,000 people die everyday. That’s about one every 1.8 seconds. I don’t believe that Saint Peter has the stamina to sit there all day everyday shouting out names. When does he sleep? He must have other saints who help him out. Probably two others so that they do eight hour shifts. And that is not to mention the 28 days of annual leave Saint Peter gets. So really there is something like a 1 in 5 chance that it will be Saint Peter who will call your name. It could well be Saint Paul, Saint Bert, Saint Bob or Paris Saint Germain.

7. Sore Throat. I am not sure if illness effects saints, but for purposes of me finding a seventh reason to write, we shall say they do. And rather annoyingly for them, they suffer from horrendously bad sore throats. So bad in fact that they can’t speak. Or sing. Or call. I don’t need to finish this reason off. You get the idea.

September 6, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: 7 Other Magazines We’re Not In This Month

Happy Sunday to you. Now, regular readers will no doubt be aware that we were hoping to make our debut in Esquire Magazine this month. Sadly, we haven’t. However, we are optimistic that we will make our bow in November. The delay got us thinking though. Which other magazines have we failed to make an appearance in this month? As it goes, all of them. Thankfully, in what will come as both a relief to you and our keyboards, we aren’t going to explain why we are not in every single magazine out there. That would take years. And quite frankly none of us have that much time to waste. Instead, we are just going to pick seven. Because seven is the correct number. So, here are seven other magazines we didn’t get in this month. And why. If you’ve spotted a magazine we’re not in, please do let us know in the comments section. And if you find a magazine we are in, we’d appreciate you let us know that too.

1. Beano. The 7 Reasons comic-strip promised so much. Two humorists, two cats* and a psychedelic penguin invade France. Who wouldn’t want to read that? Apart from Beano readers obviously. And the French.

2. Vanity Fair. Well, half the 7 Reasons team brought the vanity, sadly the other half forgot the dodgems. We’ll let you decide whom is who.

3. Wisden Cricketer. Despite Jon scoring a solid fifteen during his parent’s anniversary cricket match last Saturday, he still failed to make the current issue. Which is probably just as well considering it was his girlfriend that finally dismissed him.

4. Men’s Fudge. Notwithstanding the fact that at least 50% of the 7 Reasons team are strong advocates of fudge, this Japanese magazine still overlooked us. Probably because 100% of the 7 Reasons team are 100% interested in women. Two women. One each. No more. None. Let’s move on.

5. White Dwarf. For the uninitiated, this magazine solely deals with anything you might find in Games Workshop, i.e.: models of the wargaming genre. If you do happen to find a white dwarf in Games Workshop, well that’s just…erm…coincidence. He/she still won’t be featured. Or at least I assume they wouldn’t. That’s really the editors choice. And I’m not the editor. Anyway, I digress. We’re not in White Dwarf this week because we prefer making things out of paper.

6. Forbes. It’s their Celebrity 100 issue. The richest 100 celebrities. Given that 7 Reasons brings in approximately $2 in advertising revenue per day, we should be in this issue in circa July 43,676. Unless we have a spike, in which case we might make it into the January issue. That’s the aim anyway.

7. Motor Home. Marc and Jon in a campervan. I know what you’re thinking. And that’s why we’re not in this magazine either.

*One owned. The other, random.

September 5, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons That Recycling Is Rubbish

It’s fair to say that the 7 Reasons Sofa Tour of The United States (Manchester, Scotland and rainy streets) is well and truly over now. While we have enjoyed our foray over the Atlantic (Pennines, border and road) in the past month or so, there is nothing quite like being at home. Taking over sofa duties today is Richard O’Hagan, who, apart from being a fanatical environmentalist (if this post is to be believed) writes about stuff for The Memory Blog, the Daily Mail and Cricket With Balls. You can follow him on Twitter and get directions to his house here. Over to you Richard.

Don’t get me wrong here, recycling is a good thing. At least for the next couple of generations. After which time we’ll have recycled everything so many times that no-one will really care any more, because everyone will have forgotten how to make anything new anyway. No, what I really object to is my local council saying that I have to recycle stuff, then only collecting half of the stuff they tell you to recycle.

1. Rubbish In Car. The council have dustcarts to take the rubbish away. Recycling is still rubbish. Why the hell am I having to put it in my car and drive it to the recycling point. It’s bad enough that you are using me to do the job you should be doing, do you have to take my vehicle as well?

2. Colour Blindness. They insist that I divide my glass into clear, green and brown. Apparently you can never cross the streams and mix green with brown. But I am colour blind. I can no more tell green from brown than I can give birth. Which means that 2/3 of my trip is entirely pointless. No, more than that, because where’s the bin for this blue vodka bottle? Or this yellow lemon juice one?

3. Wasps. What do wasps like most? Sticky, sweet stuff? Like, maybe, the fermenting dregs of booze in a bottle bank? Yes, at this time of year, going to the bottle bank – if you can work out which bin to put which bottle in – is like visiting a giant wasps nest. So now I have a smelly car, am worried that I might be putting stuff in the wrong bins, and am now risking death by wasp sting.

4. Foil. The council also insist that I recycle foil. But only clean foil. Which is completely useless, because I need the clean foil I have to put over stuff that I am cooking with. The whole point of foil, in fact, is that it gets dirty. And have you every tried to wash the stuff? It is like trying to wash custard skin. So now I have to choose the lesser of two evils and recycle less-than-clean-foil. Which leads to

5. Dirty Hands. Dustmen get given gloves. If the council want me to do their job, surely they should give me gloves. So not only do I get confused and stung by doing the recycling, I also have dirty hands. Although my car is also dirty.

6. Boxes. And then there is the cardboard box problem. To get the cardboard boxes to the recycling, you need to put them in something. Such as a bigger cardboard box. Which you then put into a bigger cardboard box. And then a bigger cardboard box. Until you end up with a box so big, it won’t go through the stupidly small, letterbox-like, slot they have put in the cardboard container. So you leave it on the ground, along with the boxes left by everyone else who had the same problem, because

7. Mountains. The council don’t believe in emptying the recycling until there is a mountain of cardboard that even Sir Chris Bonington would baulk at. Which means I’ve got dirty, my car has got dirty, and I have been stung and confused, simply to create a small version of the very big rubbish tip I still suspect the council of carting the whole lot off to anyway. Pah. Recycling is rubbish.

September 4, 2010
7 Reasons I Can’t Converse With The Cat

No doubt you will have read the title of this piece and automatically assumed it was going to be Marc talking about Horatio Pyewackett Caractacus Fearns. Sadly, it’s not. It’s me. Jon. And I’m talking about next door’s cat. Ginger. Though that might not be his real name. He might not even be a he. But anyway, this story starts on Tuesday morning. I have just finished writing Tuesday’s 7 Reasons post and I am walking into the garden with the day’s laundry. I pass Ginger on the way. Two minutes later I am attacking the washing line. Suddenly there is a ‘meow’ from behind me. It’s Ginger. He wants to talk. I don’t.

1. How To Address A Cat. ‘Hello Cat,’ seems somewhat rude. I don’t start interaction with a person by saying, ‘Hello Person’ or ‘Hello Human’. Unless he actually is called Hugh Mann, in which case I probably would. But given that I don’t know any Hugh Mann’s, I don’t. So basically, what I’m trying to say, is that addressing a cat as ‘Cat’ is rude. And I would also feel a prat.

2. The Neighbours. I don’t know what it’s like where you live, but in Kent, our neighbours live next door. And I note that they are in. Either that or Jeremy Kyle has popped round to open the windows. I can’t help but feel that if I can hear Jeremy, then he can hear me. And the last thing I want is for Jez Kyle to hear me talking with the cat he is supposed to be looking after. No, actually that’s the second last thing I want. The last thing I want is for the neighbours to hear me talking to their cat.

3. Subject Matter. Even if I could bring myself to indulge in a little reparte with the ginger one, I am not at all sure what one should reparte about. Whiskers? The location of Felix? How to trap a dog in a bucket? Some of these things I don’t even know much about. Though I do think giving the bucket holes for legs is the way to go.

4. Other Cats. Two months ago, I unbeknowingly moved into a cat hotspot. Which, I am delighted to say, sounds a lot more disturbing than the RSPCA would initially think. I just mean there are a lot of cats around. And by a lot, I mean at least seventy-three thousand. I imagine that Ginger has been sent out by his other feline mates to track down some unsuspecting humanoid who will gladly entertain them with stories of cat food in Tesco before they go off and have a scratch for the rest of the day. I am not that humanoid.

5. Commitment. Just say I do talk with the cat. Then what? Is he/she going to expect it to be a daily occurrence? Will he/she expect us to go for walks together? Will he/she start leaving me Snickers bars outside and expect me to return the favour with dead mice? When he/she goes a bit grey, will I be expected to re-dye their hair? Am I going to have to read a eulogy at their funeral?

6. Bullying. Whenever I find myself in a situation of awkward silence, I generally find myself making some stupid joke. Sometimes this stupid joke comes at the expense of whoever I am locked in awkward silence with. Sometimes this stupid joke is not seen as a joke. Sometimes this stupid joke is seen as an insult. Sometimes they walk off. Sometimes they slap me. Ginger is, as his/her name suggests, ginger. We are locked in awkward silence. Cats have claws. I can do the maths.

7. Language. This is a hypothetical situation as we have already established a conversation with the cat is not going to happen, but just suppose it was going to. On whose terms would the conversation take place? Would the cat reply to me in English or would I have to speak Catlish? Neither of us really own this garden so it’s not as if either of us could claim home advantage and insist on their own language. Yes, I hang up the garden owner’s laundry, but the cat keeps the garden owner’s soil warm by rolling all over it. We’re equals. And maybe that’s the way it should end? I go in and have a cup of tea. The cat has a scratch. Probably.

September 2, 2010