7 Reasons

Tag: police

  • 7 Reasons That It’s Not As Bad As You Think

    7 Reasons That It’s Not As Bad As You Think

    Okay!  This is a humour site and my country’s been on fire for the last couple of days, so there’s only really one thing that I can write about today, so let’s be funny about the riots.  Except, no.  That isn’t really going to work, is it?  There are people out there losing their homes and livelihoods as a result of them and I’m sure we all have friends and family that are affected, so writing a lot of nonsense about how good the coverage of the riots will look on a brand new (and free) HD television, or how phoning 999 to report themselves will be so much easier now that everyone with a hooded top has an iPhone would seem trite and foolish.  Fortunately, though, while events may have saddened me and affected my sense of humour, they haven’t affected my spirit, my love of humanity and my wonderment at peoples’ innate capacity for good and their astonishing ingenuity.  Accordingly, here are seven reasons that it’s not as bad as you think.

    1.  Innovative Brilliance.  “Necessity is the mother of invention” said Plato (in Greek, probably) and our brave and hard-working police force need tea.  These lovely people have taken the time out to make them some.  They’ve also devised the absolute best way to use a riot shield.  Is there an image that captures Britain’s spirit better than this?

    00:389/8/2011:CamdenTown,London

    2.  Collective Brilliance.  The riots have demonstrated the country’s capacity for collective brilliance.  Many, many people decided that they weren’t going to let their (our) streets be wrecked by the mindless idiocy of a few.  The Twitter account @riotcleanup was set up and it now has almost 80,000 followers.  That’s more people than have been involved in rioting and looting.  People have got together in overwhelming numbers for the power of good.  This picture by @lawcol888 is wonderfully uplifting.

    3.  Individual Brilliance.  Oscar Levant said that there was “a fine line between genius and insanity” and, from that very line, this woman bravely berates rioters and looters.  That there are people in this country courageous and brilliant enough to stand up to a mob so eloquently is wonderful.

    4.  Expectation-Altering-Brilliance.  Stan Collymore (What?  Wait, he’s gone mad.  He’s been lauding examples of brilliance and now he’s writing about Stan Collymore!?), former Premier League footballer and someone that I have occasionally thought of as a bit of an idiot over the years tweeted this earlier:

     

    Now, professional footballers (and former professional footballers) are often pilloried – sometimes rightly – for behaving poorly and setting a bad example to people and this was unexpected, but it was a cheering and most welcome thing to see, even if he did make me feel like a git.

    5.  Technological Brilliance.  It’s been a while since Britain has seen rioting on this scale and there’ve been a lot of technological advances in the meantime, so it’s fair to say that any online response to it was going to be breaking new ground.  The innovative use of social media as a response to events has been staggering.  Almost as soon as disturbances began in Birmingham yesterday, the rather brilliant @caseyrain set up a Birmingham Riots Tumblr account to document events in the second city while the attention of the national media was focussed on London.  There have been many, many other wonderful examples of innovative use of social media, with Facebook groups (,http://www.facebook.com/londoncleanup), Tumblr accounts (http://catchalooter.tumblr.com/) and websites (http://www.londonrioters.co.uk/identify/) used to promote various causes and to mobilise people into various types of action.  That people have used the internet and social media so effectively to mobilize themselves into making our streets better and catching the looters is both marvellous and demonstrative of a laudable degree of collective will and creativity.  Oh, and the looters are helping by using Facebook too.

    6.  Just Utter Brilliance.  Don’t want the rioting and looting to ruin your evening?  Simple.  Just pretend it isn’t happening.  “Riot, what riot?  I say, could you pass the port, my good man?”

    7.  Historical Brilliance.  The oft-cited high-water-mark of societal unity, sacrifice and collective accomplishment was the way that Britain dealt with the blitz during World War II.  The blitz spirit is something that is often mentioned in articles that decry modern society to illustrate a decline in standards and unity, and many commentators on the current situation have spoken of the riots as being symptomatic of a breakdown in society.  But rioting and looting are nothing new.  During the blitz – that exalted time when our society is seen as having been at its strongest and most cohesive – with a war-depreciated police force and abundance of opportunity there was widespread looting and criminality too.  The truth is that there has always been a sociopathic minority in our country ready to exploit any weakness (lack of police cover, evacuated streets etc) for their own personal gain, regardless of the consequences to others.  That we don’t let the looting during the blitz affect the high regard in which we hold the selfless sacrifice of the majority during the second world war speaks volumes about us.  History tells us that it’s possible to have a strong, dynamic and caring society despite having a minor element that riots and loots.  And the way that the majority of Britain has reacted today to the events of the past few days suggests that little has changed.  That is heartening.

  • 7 Reasons To Love The Statesman!

    7 Reasons To Love The Statesman!

    Apart from waking up to the news that it is both International Women’s Day and Pancake Day, you may have also heard that 28,000 Police jobs are – in all likelihood – going to be cut. If your reaction to this news is one of fear, you need not worry. A new crime fighting force is out there. The UK’s answer to Kick-Ass is a real-life superhero. Let me introduce you to… The Statesman!

    The Statesman - A UK Superhero

    This powerhouse of a man is out there, right now – in Birmingham – protecting us. Protecting us all. Do we need 7 Reasons to love him? Of course we don’t. Are we going to give you 7 Reasons anyway? Well, obviously. Here they are:

    1.  Costume. The last person to try and spread a little love by wearing a Union Jack outfit was Geri Halliwell. The Statesman, though, has the eye mask to go with it. Which in my opinion makes all the difference. Everyone likes a superhero who can effectively combine fierce loyalty to his country with a bit of camp mystery.

    2.  Utility Belt. Savlon? Check. Plasters? Check. Maglite? Check. Swiss Army Knife from that Christmas cracker? Check. Let’s be honest, Superman was great, but he never took a strip of Elastoplast with him. The Statesman does. And a tube of Berocca to help the inebriated among us.

    3.  Moustache. The last time I saw something like this it was Movember 2009 and I was looking in the mirror. I scared people that month. Which only leads me to believe that The Statesman must scare baddies 24/7/365. Awesome man, just awesome!

    4.  Persuasive. Until the identity of The Statesman was splashed all over The Sun, his girlfriend thought he was off playing poker every night. Whether she ever questioned his choice of attire is, at present, unknown, but I suspect she did. I can only conclude therefore that The Statesman is a very persuasive chap. And let’s be clear about this, when you are faced with two bad men, each with a crowbar, the best way of unarming them is the mighty skill of persuasion.

    5.  Allies. That’s right, he has friends. Possibly in high places. Possibly in phone boxes. Possibly in the back of the Satesmobile. It doesn’t really matter where they are, the fact is they are out there. Fighting. Fighting for us. So go out, wear your bling, leave your car doors open, nothing bad will ever happen.

    6.  Weapons. There’s no gun, taser or baton sticking out of The Statesman’s trousers. He is unarmed. Well, except for his quick wit and boxing mitts. Given that gangs have ready access to a variety of kitchen utensil you have to applaud The Statesman’s ‘no violence’ approach. If only wars were fought in such a way.

    7.  Heart. Many superheroes are pre-occupied with fighting, not The Statesman though. If there is no crime to be fought, he’ll happily help the drunk across the road or give a blanket to a homeless person. A clever villain would probably try and use such a scenario as a diversion tactic, but I just have a sneaking suspicion that The Statesman will be ready for such an eventuality. He’s a superhero after all.

  • 7 Reasons We Should All Have Our Own Personal CCTV

    7 Reasons We Should All Have Our Own Personal CCTV

    After yesterday’s big announcement I am sure you were expecting a post about that. Sadly though, I have not had the time to give such a piece the careful consideration it requires, but hopefully we’ll read 7 Reasons Andy Carroll Is Worth More Than Blackburn Rovers later in the week. For now we shall look at a subject that is close to many people’s hearts. Or at least it should be. CCTV. Each and every one of us should have our own personal CCTV. Here’s why:

    CCTV Man

    1.  Child Behavioural Device. My Mum always used to scare me by telling me she had eyes in the back of her head. Between the ages of four and six I don’t think I ever stood behind her. It was only when a wasp attacked her hair that I realised she was something of a con artist. The lie though (not to be mistaken with lilo) worked. I was never naughty behind my mother’s back. Just in case a couple of eyeballs popped out. Of course, now that today 7 Reasons has dispelled the ‘eyes in the back of my head’ myth, parents around the land will require a new threat level. And while a mirror maybe substantially cheaper, having CCTV cameras sticking out of various orifices would be much scarier.

    2.  Adult Behavioural Device. Any kind of assault on another human being will soon become a thing of the past. Firstly, everyone will know they won’t get away with it. Secondly, potential victims will be able to see an imminent attack coming. And all yours for £99 (exc VAT). Sometimes, my own genius scares me.

    3.  Capture Happiness. There are some moments in life we just want to relive over and over again. Maybe your engagement, your marriage, your divorce or England winning the Ashes*. Whichever it is, with CCTV you can record each of these moments using a multitude of angles and when you wish to remind yourself you can do just that. Now, the question you have for me is probably, ‘Why couldn’t I just use a camcorder?’ Well my answer goes something like this. You can’t spend your life walking around with a camcorder in your hand. It’ll get in the way, you won’t be permitted to watch the school nativity and when you are more than a little worse for wear in Las Vegas you’ll probably lose it before you find a minister. With CCTV being the norm, none of these problems will occur.

    4.  Image. They say pictures speak louder than words so let me point you in the direction of today’s 7 Reasons image. (That’s the one above). Not one of you can tell me that that guy, who we shall call Bobby, doesn’t look pretty cool. Sure, Bobby’s not wearing his usual sailors outfit, but I can tell you that Bobby feels confident. More confident than Bobby has ever felt before actually. And the world needs more confident Bobbies. Bobbies who will stand in the middle of a riot and happily capture the carnage around them. Not that there will be any carnage because of the CCTV. But at least the Bobbies will capture a lot of people standing around in the same place for a while. They can then upload it to YouTube and call it a flash-mob. Bound to be a hit.

    5.  Piracy. I think we can all agree that film piracy is a disgrace and a blight on the film industry. The quality is often so poor. With personal CCTV this will change. Given that everyone will have the opportunity to film a film, the pirates will have to use the latest personal CCTV equipment to offer the quality that people will pay for. And that’s brilliant because for your £3 you will no longer get a string of silhouettes going to the toilet, but a film of the quality that the original filmmakers intended. **

    6.  Forgetfulness. Where did I put the car keys? Where did I put the car? Whose nicked the car park? Am I drunk? The answers to so many questions can be found just by pressing that rewind button. Simple, but beautiful.

    7.  Social Media Integration. I am sure we all have friends who mention on facebook or twitter that they have just arrived at Selfridges or the Hurlingham Club or the Nou Camp. One day one of my friends checked into Sinagpore Airport at 7pm and three hours later he was watching some baseball in New York. Amazing. But obviously utter bollocks. None of my friend’s have ever checked in at KFC. And let’s be honest I am friend’s with some real pikies. Not in real life obviously, just on facebook. CCTV will identify these pathetic people for the fraudsters they really are by posting live video with every status update.

    From The Bahamas, JL.

    *Get in.

    **In no way do 7 Reasons condone film piracy. It is bad. Very bad. (Though it maybe joked about if you are desperate for a fifth reason).

  • 7 Reasons That You Shouldn’t Knock on the Front Door When I’m in the Bath

    7 Reasons That You Shouldn’t Knock on the Front Door When I’m in the Bath

    Yesterday, while I was bathing, someone knocked on the front door.  They shouldn’t have.  Here are seven reasons why.

    A black and white picture of a man chopping wood with an axe.  1940s

    1.  Doubt.  I’m lying in the bath.  I’m wet.  I’m not about to get up to answer the door, it’ll be bloody cold standing on the doorstep with only a towel around my waist and five chest hairs to keep me warm, so of course I’m going to lie here.  But what if it’s important?  What if there’s a gas leak and they’ve come to alert me?  What if the house next door is on fire?  What if the police have come to warn me that there’s an axe-murderer on the loose?

    2.  Foreboding.  What if it is the axe-murderer?  I’m alone in the house with my cat.  An axe-murderer wouldn’t be satisfied with hacking the cat to death, that wouldn’t even be murder.  That would be animal cruelty.  That would probably be an assault to the dignity of the axe-murderer:  It would be a demotion from axe-murderer to cruel man (with axe).  He’d be a laughing stock.  He would be shunned by the other axe-murderers.  That would never do.

    3.  Fear.  What if he’s the sort of axe-murderer who doesn’t want to chop me into a barely identifiable pulp of blood, flesh and sinew right away?  What if he’s the kind that’s on the run and wants somewhere to hide for a while; menacing my cat with his axe in the living room while I tell the police at the door that I haven’t seen anyone and that I’m alone in the house?  I don’t want one of those.  It’ll be hours before my wife comes home and I can hide behind her.  Hours.

    4.  Terror.  What if he needs to hide out for a couple of days?  What in the hell would we feed him?  We’ve had snow here for two weeks and the shops haven’t had much in; all we would have to offer him are vast quantities of limoncello and Twiglets.  And I doubt that axe-murderers even like Twiglets.  After all, I bloody love Twiglets and I’m the total opposite of an axe-murderer; I’m a no-axed-not-murderer, or as we’re more commonly known, a victim.   So, the axe-murderer will have lots to drink, but nothing to eat.  So he’ll be drunk, and he’ll be cross.  He’ll be a drunken, angry, axe-murderer which, I rather suspect, is the worst sort.

    5.  Twiglets.  What if he does like Twiglets?  Because these aren’t just any Twiglets.  Oh no.  These are the Christmas Twiglets.  The Twiglets that I’m not allowed to touch.  The Twiglets that no one is allowed to touch, or even gaze directly at for a prolonged period.  Not until Christmas Twiglet season begins at 9pm on the 24th of December.  I’ve made that mistake before and there were consequences.  And now I know better than to breach the sanctity of the Christmas Twiglets.  In fact, I seem to remember that, following the incident that has come to be known as Christmas-Twiglet-gate, my wife told me that if I ever ate the Christmas Twiglets again (outside of the clearly defined time-frame) that she would kill me.  So that’s it.  It’s Hobson’s bloody choice.  If the axe-murderer likes Twiglets I can either tell him he can’t have any and he’ll kill me with an axe, or I can let him have them and my wife will kill me without an axe (with a handbag probably, or her soup).  Basically, I’m fucked.

    6.  Reflection.  When was the last time I saw an axe-murderer?  I haven’t seen any for ages.  I don’t think I’ve seen one since The Shining.  There used to be loads of them.  Absolutely bloody loads, but their numbers seem to have declined.  They seem to have had some sort of heyday in the late 1940s when they were menacing Fred MacMurray and Ida Lupino in a remote California farmhouse most weekends, and then their numbers appear to have dwindled away to nothing.  So, in all probability, it wasn’t an axe-murderer that knocked on my door about sixty minutes ago.

    7.  Resolution.  My fingers are wrinkly, I’m cold, and my left knee has literally turned blue.  I have other things to do.  I’m supposed to be writing tomorrow’s 7 Reasons piece.  I’m not even supposed to be thinking about the Christmas Twiglets.  I’m not allowed to do that until the 22nd.  You’ve just stolen an hour of my life and caused me think dangerous thoughts and turned my knee a funny colour (somewhere between cobalt and Prussian blue).  Damn you, whoever you are/were.  Next time, I’m coming down in my towel.  To my death, probably.

  • 7 Reasons That you Shouldn’t pay £650 for a bag of Potatoes and Some Cardboard

    7 Reasons That you Shouldn’t pay £650 for a bag of Potatoes and Some Cardboard

    Last week in Huntingdon, a couple walking along the high street were approached by a man they didn’t know, who offered to sell them a rucksack containing an iPhone and a laptop for £650.  They agreed to this and, after visiting their bank, headed off to a car park behind some shops to conclude their transaction.  Some time later, on opening the rucksack, they discovered that rather than containing a laptop and an iPhone, it did in fact, contain some potatoes and some cardboard.  Yes, they’d been duped.  Now, it seems unlikely that you would be contemplating a similar transaction (in fact, it seems more likely that a talking vase with three fingers will become the next pope) but, just in case, here are seven reasons that it’s probably not a good idea.

    A photo of a group of muddy potatoes

    1.  It’s Too Much To Pay For Potatoes.  Even ones that come with bonus cardboard.  2.5kg of Sainsbury’s Basics potatoes cost 99p.  This means that for £650 you would get 1641 kg of them which is a lot more than you can fit in a small rucksack, in fact, it’s more than you can fit in a small hatchback.  Or, you can buy fewer potatoes and, with the money you’ve saved, you can buy a rucksack.  A bejewelled one made of gold and silk, probably.  Oh, and an apple.

    2.  Stupidity.  Now, far be it from me to mock the stupid…no…wait, that is what I’m about to do, sorry.   So, near be it to me to mock the stupid: What the hell were they thinking, the feckless nitwits?  Under what circumstance does buying a laptop in a car park from a man that’s just approached you on the street ever seem like a good idea?  That was going to be posed as a rhetorical question, but I’ve just thought of the answer.  Under no circumstance, that’s when.  Because to most people: You; me; everyone else in the world except for two people from Huntingdon, it might set off some alarm bells.

    3.  Morality. Unless, of course, they believed they were buying goods that had been criminally procured from some unfortunate victim.  In which case, the fact that £650 has been diddled from this couple would seem quite just.  You can’t make me believe for one moment that anyone would think this was a legitimate transaction.  A rucksack containing a laptop and an iPhone for £650 from a man in a car park?  Hmmm.  So, if you spend £650 on some potatoes and cardboard, you might end up appearing immoral.  And you’ll be lumbered with a rucksack.

    4.  Because The Potatoes And Cardboard Come In A Rucksack.  And rucksacks are awful.  Not when you’re hiking or climbing, then they’re very handy, but in an urban environment, rucksacks are a liability and likely to break things in shops or provoke a fellow pedestrian or public transport user into punching the wearer.  If you wear the things with the straps over both shoulders everyone thinks, what a complete cock, and if you wear the things with the straps over one shoulder everyone thinks, what a complete cock, why not just get a messenger bag? You don’t need a rucksack; there’s too much social stigma involved in wearing them.

    5.  The Dilemma.  This comes when you discover you’ve been ripped-off and instead of visiting your favourite humour website on a shiny new computer, you’re going to have to try to read The Onion using a potato.  Which sounds difficult.  So then you have to decide whether you’re going to go to the police and risk incriminating yourself, or whether to accept you’ve been conned and resolve not to let it happen again.  On balance, I think I’d opt for the latter.  Not that I’m likely to find myself in that position, mostly on account of not being a weaselly bell-end.

    6.  Publicity.  There’s a popular idiom which states that “any publicity is good publicity”.  This idiom, however, is stupid: Publicity didn’t work out too well for BP or Gary Glitter, did it?  And we can note that the anonymous victims/lucky-potato-owners haven’t revealed their identities.  Possibly because they wish to remain anonymous, or possibly because they’re too stupid to remember their own names, who knows?  One thing’s for certain though, if you spend £650 on potatoes and cardboard, tabloid journalists will be pulling out all of the stops to find out who you are.  And that sort of publicity doesn’t seem like good publicity to me.

    7.  Association.  Dr Crippen.  Marie Antoinette.  King Canute.  Names which will be forever synonymous with murder, arrogance and folly.  And if you spend £650 on a rucksack containing cardboard and potatoes, your name will doubtless become associated forever with either gullibility, avarice, or stupidity.  Or all three.  And you’ll have to recycle the cardboard.

  • 7 Reasons It’s Dangerous To Drive A Golf Buggy Up The M4

    7 Reasons It’s Dangerous To Drive A Golf Buggy Up The M4

    1.  It’s the M4. What sort of road is that to start on? Surely logic would dictate that you build up to it? B roads to A roads to motorways. And then you wouldn’t start on the M4 would you? It would go M1, M2, M3 then M4. Fail to prepare, prepare to get arrested.

    2.  Breakdown Cover. The AA and the RAC don’t provide cover for golf buggies. Which means if you get stuck between junctions you have got to push the thing bloody miles. That is not good news for your back.

    3.  Speed. Or should that be the lack of? A golf buggy, while apparently quite nippy zooming over the fairways, is in fact quite slow when placed next to the more roadworthy vehicle. Slow cars cause road rage. Slow golf buggies cause bent putters.

    4.  England Calling. So assuming you get on the M4 in Wales – which I understand is very feasible – you could well end up heading into England. There is nothing wrong with this of course – it is the greatest country in the world after all – but then you’d need to get back. And that means you have to pay the toll to get back over the bridge. What is so dangerous about that? Well quite a lot when the barrier crashes down before you have managed to get your foot on the accelerator. Golf balls everywhere.

    5.  Weather. If there is one design feature the standard golf buggy lacks, it is windscreen wipers. Oh, and a windscreen. If it starts raining or snowing you are not only going to freeze, but you will also struggle to see. And no, goggles do not help. If you end up stuck in a field you should think yourself very lucky.

    6.  Beverage holders. There aren’t any. Another epic design failure. The chances are if you are driving a golf buggy up the motorway you have somewhere to go. As we have already established you are not going to be going where you want to go very quickly and you are also going to freeze to death. The sensible option in these circumstances is to buy a hot drink and hold it between your thighs. That’s a health and safety issue right there.

    7.  Lights. Unless you have stolen a top of the range model, there aren’t any lights on the front of your buggy. Which means you are going to have to use the torch facility on your phone. This of course means you will be driving one handed with a mug of boiling soup between your thighs and a Police car roaring up the road behind you. In such circumstances people have been known to panic. Panicking makes you do rash things. You might chuck your phone under a lorry or something.

  • 7 Reasons to Keep the Traditional Police Helmet

    7 Reasons to Keep the Traditional Police Helmet

    1.  Pregnancy.  In the U.K., a pregnant woman can legally urinate wherever she likes.  She can even, if she requests to, urinate in a policeman’s helmet.  I’m not sure that it’s a practical receptacle for urine – the ventilation holes in the side would prove a particular problem – but it’s surely a desirable thing to pee in.  Who among us wouldn’t want to have a go at that?

    2.  Theft.  Stealing a traditional policeman’s helmet is a part of British popular culture.  P.G.Woodhouse’s most famous creation, Bertie Wooster, was fined £5 for stealing a policeman’s helmet on Boat Race night.  It’s not just a sport for fictional toffs though.  Drunkenly trying to steal a policeman’s helmet is a pastime which is practiced by all classes.  The correct method for removing one is to knock it forward from behind, thus obviating the efficacy of the chin-strap, before running very quickly (we imagine).

    3.  Height.  The traditional police helmet is hard and is approximately 30cm tall.  In theory, it could be used by a policeman to stand on to look over a wall or through a high window.  I don’t know what they’d see, but it could be important.

    4.  Food. The traditional police helmet is sometimes used by policemen to store their fish and chips.  It keeps them warm until they arrive back at the station for their break, and stops them from seeming as lardy and food-obsessed as their American counterparts.  The vinegary scent which emanates from within the helmet often confuses passers-by.

    5.  Visibility.  It is important that the police are a visible presence on the streets to enforce law and order.  This is why they wear those retina-burningly bright high-visibility jackets.  You can’t see those on a crowded street though as they, and their wearers, are obscured by the throng.  You can, however, see the traditional police helmet as it protrudes from the body of a crowd.  You can see it as a reassuring beacon radiating order, or you can imagine it as a shark’s fin portending danger – humming the Jaws theme is optional.  The one thing you can’t do is miss it.

    6.  Protection. Unlike the more modern police cap, the traditional police helmet is hard and will actually protect a policeman from a blow to the head which, as they deal with the sort of people that might possibly hit them over the head – criminals and the like – would seem to be a desirable feature.  It also protects bald policemen from the effects of the sun, and from the taunts of teenage boys, for whom baldness is more amusing than almost anything.

    7.  Tradition.  Not all traditions are good.  Throwing goats from church towers or having to pull crackers while your Christmas dinner goes cold are particularly pointless and cruel traditions.  The traditional policeman’s helmet, however, is an example of a good tradition.  The traditional police helmet is redolent of Dixon of Dock Green, of Bobbies on the beat, of the nice copper who gave you boiled sweets and reunited you with your parents when you were six years old and lost in Coventry city centre.  It brings to mind the avuncular face of policing.  Traditionally, the sort of chap that you would ask for directions or the time wore a police helmet.  Would you ask a copper in a modern police cap the way to the train station?  You’d probably think twice.  He might pepper-spray you and give you an ASBO or a fixed-penalty-notice for wasting police time or loitering.  A modern police cap signifies that its wearer is a policeman or woman; a traditional police helmet bestows upon its wearer the dignity and gravitas of a fine and noble institution.

  • 7 Reasons to Hate the Thaw

    7 Reasons to Hate the Thaw

    1. Brown.  The thaw is brown.  Everything is muddy, slushy and brown.  The grit that was scattered onto the snowy roads and pavements and is now visible, is brown.  The river is brown.  The bare trees are brown, the uncovered grass is brown, Gordon is Brown.  Nothing good is brown (except beverages and beverage based desserts, obviously).

    2.  Slush.  When the snow is on the ground it’s a pure, blank canvas which will be affected in an obvious way by whatever is on top of it.  When it melts, however, it’s just a brown, wet slushy mass.  We all know what’s in yellow snow, but we’re not sure what’s in all those brown slushy puddles.  What is it?  It could be anything.  It’s slush, but it’s not blue and doesn’t taste of cherry, which is a big disappointment.


    3.  Snowmen.  The streets are full of dying snowmen.  Is there anything sadder than that?  They are like urban, wintery versions of Ozymandias, whose power and grandeur and gilded age has passed into ruination and decay.  Soon they will be a distant memory as they assume the form of an old, discarded hat and some twigs scattered on the ground.  My neighbour’s snow-penis is also looking distinctly unimpressive at the moment.  Perhaps I should forward to him some of the many emails I receive offering me Viagra.

    4.  Nice.  The snow is a special time.  With the passing of the snow the nicety will go.  When you encounter a neighbour walking down your snow-covered street in a blizzard you generally smile at each other, glance skyward and tut.  When you encounter police with their riot shields out in the snow they’re using them for sledging.

     

    With the thaw, when you bump into your neighbours, they will scowl at you as usual, or worse, they will converse with you.  When you encounter police with their riot shields out they will beat you to death as usual, or worse, they will usher you into the Ricoh Arena.

    5.  Balls.  When the snow goes, the local ne’er-do-wells will be unable to pelt cars, buses and cyclists with snowballs containing rocks.  They will, instead, pelt cars, buses and cyclists with rocks.  Not only will this cause more damage, but it will rob passers-by of the strange spectacle of a bunch of youths with their tracksuit-bottoms tucked into their white socks, apparently floating eight inches above the ground while assaulting the traffic.

    6.  Sledging.  When the snow is gone sledging is difficult, if not impossible.

    7.  Disruption.  Disruption to services is forgivable in the snow as, well, it’s the snow!  Everything is good in the snow.  Now that the snow is thawing, however, disruption to services is annoying and unforgiveable.  Especially these bins that have been blocking this path for a week.  Expect to see this picture again in 7 Reasons my Neighbours Should be put to Death.  Idiots.