Tag: Reasons

7 Reasons To Let A Bull Loose In The City

Those of you who watch the news may well have seen that a bull ran amok in the Brazilian town of Sao Jose do Rio Preto last Friday. Eventually it got stuck in a clothes shop and was recaptured by a man with a bit of rope. While on this occasion the bull caused damage and forced a shop worker to hide in a toilet, a bull loose in the city isn’t always a bad thing. In fact it could be very effective. Here’s why:

1. Slow People. It staggers me the amount of people who walk around at a snails pace. Are these people so out of touch that they don’t know there is a massive Facebook campaign encouraging slow moving people to be punched in the back of the head? Obviously, no one has done this as it would be seen as GBH. Letting a bull loose in the city though is a highly legitimate method of making these people get a shift on.

2. Cheap Demolition. There are always areas of cities that could do with a lick of paint. And there are areas of cities – or, in the case of Bradford, whole cities – that should just be knocked down so something vaguely attractive can be built instead. Bringing in a demolition team is expensive. Bringing in a bull is cheap. And, given the fact that it won’t stop for tea every five minutes, a damn sight quicker.

3. China. Tired of idioms that may or may not be factually accurate? I know I am. I am particularly tired of the idiom, ‘he’s like a bull in a china shop’. I have never seen a bull in a china shop. Are we absolutely sure he is going to cause carnage as opposed, to say, purchasing a tea set? Does a bull even like china shops? Letting a bull loose in the city will confirm or destroy this idiom forever.

4. Muppets. From idioms to idiots. This might be news to you as much as it was to me yesterday when I was doing my 7 Reasons research. Each year in the Spanish city of Pamplona, as part of the San Fermin festival, bulls are let free to run through the city. And if you don’t think that’s odd, wait until I tell you that men try and out run them. Men try and out run them. Exactly, ridiculous. Take a look at this:

So, I propose that by letting a handful of bulls loose in the city the idiots among us will be routed out. These people are more dangerous than the bulls.

5. Curfew. Last week I went to a pub where I saw a man with an ankle tag. Apart from immediately knowing I was in the wrong pub, I questioned whether he should be at home in bed. It was gone 7pm after all. The response he gave me wasn’t one I can share with you, but let’s just say he didn’t leave right then and there. It would have been different if I had been a bull. Or I had a bull with me. Or, even better, I wasn’t there at all but the bull was. A bull would police curfews without any issues whatsoever. In this case the Police would turn up, question as to why this man used a bull to remove his ankle tag and send him back to prison. The place where he should have been all along. His reckless snapping of my skateboard was bang out of order.

6. Chuggers. I want them gone. The lot of them.

7. Advertising. I am a little bit surprised they haven’t thought of this already, but this is probably the greatest idea Red Bull have never had. The Red Bull Lottery. This is how it works. Forty-nine bulls are spray-painted in the Red Bull colours and then each given a number. They are dropped off on one side of the city and encouraged to rampage to a big net on the other. The first six Red Bulls that reach the net form the Red Bull Lottery numbers. The winner of the lottery will be given the other forty-three bulls. Once he/she has found them. Genius.

May 19, 2011
7 Reasons To Look In The Mirror Before Leaving The House

The first thing to say about about today’s 7 Reasons post is that I feel very guilty for what I am about to write. What you are about to read is a savage attack on one elderly gentleman’s dress sense. An elderly gentleman who no doubt fought in the War just so I could live in a world where I am free to judge him. It’s hardly the way in which to offer thanks is it? And I honestly do feel somewhat ashamed for what appears below. The thing is though, if I don’t help this gentleman out, then Trinny and Susannah will. That is something I am not prepared to let happen. So, here we go. May I present a hero dressed terribly.

The more observant of you will note that this man is wearing an MCC blazer and bow tie. That’s because he is an MCC member and was yesterday evening at Lord’s watching Middlesex battle it out with Worcestershire. I wasn’t. I was at home watching it on Sky Sports. Which is where I saw the man, blinked, wondered if what I had just seen was real, rewound the TV, watched the footage again, found the man and hit pause. I then took the above photo. I am sure you can think of your own reasons, but here are my top seven as to why he really should have looked in the mirror.

1. Trousers (Part One). He’s wearing them quite high. And when I say quite high, I mean around his chest. Unless you take style tips from Simon Cowell that’s an odd place for the waistband to sit. And when I say odd, I mean bloody ridiculous. What happens if you are caught short – as I understand is a regular occurrence when you reach a certain age? Your fly will open somewhere around your belly button. That’s just asking for trouble. And a wet patch.

2. Trousers (Part Two). If the waistband is around the chest, we can only guess at what point the legs of the trousers end. We must be talking some serious ankle swingers. And probably white socks. It’s not a good image is it?

3. Shirt. If this man had looked in the mirror before heading off to Lord’s he would have realised that the last time he used the washing machine he had an absolute nightmare. Resulting in at least one shrunken shirt.

4. Checks. Admittedly the sickly MCC egg and bacon attire makes it very had to look stylish while sitting in the pavilion, but one should know that mixing stripes with checks is a serious fashion faux pas. Unless he was trying to dazzle the Worcestershire batsmen. In which case he is a cleverer man than I have given him credit for and I feel somewhat inadequate to continue writing. But I shall.

5. Disguise. It was a dark, damp evening at Lord’s which leads me to ask whether the sun hat and sunglasses were strictly necessary. It is as if this man was trying to hide from someone. Unfortunately, on the evidence no one told the dear fellow that the best way of hiding is by blending in. Or going into the loft for a decade.

6. Abuse. As I have previously mentioned, this post is a sad indictment of society today. My only defence – and I fully accept it is both a pathetic and futile one – is that I write ravaged by guilt. There are many who would see this man and – without even a thought as to the harm it would cause – draw comparisons between him and this pair. And that is completely unacceptable. Accurate, but unacceptable.

7. Hat. Is it me or is there a suspicious lump on the top of his head? A lump concealed by a small white floppy. I’m thinking pigeons. I’m thinking this is Blowers’ new pigeon supplier. Which not only goes to prove this man doesn’t look in the mirror when he’s about to leave the home, it also means he isn’t a regular reader of 7 Reasons. And that really is the great disappointment here.

May 18, 2011
7 Reasons Following Henry Blofeld On Twitter Makes The Mind Boggle

Don’t worry if you’re not on Twitter, you don’t need to be to read this post. Do worry if you don’t like cricket though, you’re an odd one. Henry Blofeld, for those of you who don’t know, is best known as a pigeon-loving, bus-spotting cricket commentator on the most glorious of radio shows, Test Match Special. Less well known are his forays on to the social media platform, Twitter. Now I don’t wish to upset the apple cart by saying he hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet, but occasionally, just occasionally, he puts something into the public domain that clearly shouldn’t be there. Sometimes it’s an erroneous punctuation mark, other times it’s a message clearly meant for someone in particular – he’s just forgotten to include the recipients username. Every time this happens though I can’t help but wonder what he was trying to do or say. Nor can I help wondering what conversation he is in the midst of. To my mind it usually involves pigeons. Being curious I have gone through his Twitter feed and found the last seven tweets that make little sense. After much analysis, I have discovered something that is rather alarming. Prepare yourself for a shock.

The Twitterati Know Him As @blowersh

1. “My Dear Old Thing. Many thanks for sending me news from the ship! Let’s hope we succeed in packing them in!” – 29 Mar 2011. Good golly gosh! Blowers is smuggling pigeons into Britain! He has a man – who he has unsurprisingly dubbed ‘My Dear Old Thing’ – and he has a ship. A ship that no doubt sits somewhere in the middle of the English Channel. And this man on the ship relays news to Blowers as and when he has packed as many pigeons into the vaults as humanly possible. No wonder Blowers doesn’t commentate as much as he used to. He’s far too busy preparing fake British pigeon documents.

2. “.X” – 10th Apr 2011. Interesting. Is this a kiss for a young lady who Blowers is embroiled in an exotic dalliance with? Or does it mean ‘X marks the spot’? Is it code for his man on the ship? Is that a full-stop or is it a dot? Google Maps indicate there is a place called Dot Cottage near Winchelsea Beach in Sussex. So this is code! It means, ‘X marks the dot’. Blowers is unloading illegal pigeons at Dot Cottage!

3. “My Dear Old Thing. I suppose it takes one to know one. Anyway, good to hear from you. Pip pip Blowers.” – 12th Apr 2011. What is one? A cricket commentator? Is this message for Aggers? No, he wouldn’t say that to Aggers. This must be a reply to another pigeon smuggler! I bet it’s Boycott. Blowers’ message contains hints of a brush off. The use of ‘anyway’ signifies that Blowers doesn’t have time for this. He’s got things to do. My only conclusion is that Boycott is also smuggling pigeons and therefore they are fighting for business.

4. “#” – 22nd Apr 2011. A hashtag. But without the tag. So really it’s just a hash. Oh crikey! Someone’s made a terrible hash of things haven’t they? The man on the ship! It must be him. Has he been captured by a ghastly pigeon immigration official at Dot Cottage?!

5. “Yes please! What a terrific idea! Where do you suggest?” – 4th May 2011. Yes! It looks like I was right. Blowers’ man on the ship is now imprisoned. And even worse Dot Cottage is now a no go area. But it looks like someone else has approached Blowers with an offer. An offer Blowers really likes. We can only presume it’s an offer in a similar business and a new arrival port is being sought.

6. “My Dear Old Thing. Just arrived back in London. See you at 1.30 and look so much to meeting you. Pip pip Henry.” – 7th May 2011. Where’s Blowers been? Has he been to the new Dot Cottage or has he been to the printers to get the fake pigeon passports? And who is he meeting at 1.30pm? Is it his new pigeon supplier? The other option really isn’t worth thinking about. The idea of Blowers being caught in a honey trap by the pesky RSPCP (the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Pigeons) fills one with absolute fright. Oh, Blowers, do be careful.

7. “My Dear Old Thing. How’s the new ‘phone coming along? Pip pip.” – 17th May 2011. Odd. I have absolutely no idea how this relates to pigeon smuggling. Have I got this all wrong? Is Blowers actually something worse than a pigeon smuggler? Does he work in customer service for Vodafone?

*Disclaimer: Obviously this is entirely made up. We are not suggesting for one minute that Henry Blofeld or any of his associates are involved in the smuggling of pigeons into Great Britain. Nor are we suggesting he endorses Vodafone. The only thing we know about Blowers for sure is that he is the sound of cricket, a national treasure and he’s still struggling with Twitter. And, to be honest, we wouldn’t have him any other way.

May 17, 2011
7 Reasons Manu Tuilagi Should Be Embarrassed

On Saturday afternoon, the country had two choices. They could either watch a bunch of tarts or a bunch of thugs. Being someone who lacks a passion for theatrical performance this choice didn’t apply to me. My radar featured solely the Leicester v Northampton Premiership semi-final. The FA Cup Final only appeared on nancy boy’s radars. And Ricky Hatton’s. My choice, as happens regularly with my choices, was the correct one and I was treated to a terrific sporting occasion. However, it wasn’t all savoury. During the first half there was an off the ball incident between Leicester’s Manu Tuilagi and Northampton’s Chris Ashton. For those who didn’t watch it, this is what happened. Manu Tuilagi attempts something resembling a tackle on Chris Ashton. Unfortunately, Ashton didn’t have the ball. And in rugby, tackling someone without the ball is frowned upon. So, Ashton gives Tuilagi a shove to say, “Excuse me ol’chap, I am without ball. That’s terribly unsportsmanlike conduct.” To which Tuilagi replies, “No it ******* well isn’t! This is!” Although he replaced the words with three punches. Unfortunately footage of the incident isn’t great, but it’s as good as we have for now.

At full speed it looked like a brutal attack and one Audley Harrison would be proud/incapable of. On closer inspection though, it’s pretty poor. And for that Manu should be incredibly embarrassed. Here’s why:

1. Eyes. In such circumstances the victim should really have his eyes shut as he prepares himself for the blow. The puncher, on the other hand, should be looking in the direction of his target. This is all back to front. Firstly, although it’s hard to tell, Ashton has his eyes open. And secondly, Tuilagi has his eyes shut. So what can we establish from this? Well, firstly that Ashton is a madman. He likes pain and he loves watching the impact of a fist on his face. Secondly, Tuilagi is squeamish. He’ll gladly give someone a happy slap but he doesn’t want to see blood.

2. Body Position. Now, I’ve done a bit of boxing – in a ring that was frequented by Justin Langer and Adam Gilchrist no less – so I like to think I know what I am talking about. When you punch, you’ll get more joy if you hit in front of you as opposed to the side. Obviously, there may be occasions when your target is not in front of you. If this is the case it is generally a good idea to move.

3. Oxygen. It’s always a good idea to breath when involved in a pursuit that actively encourages being alive. Tuilagi’s decision to hold his breath was not only dangerous, it also made him look a little chubby.

4. Standing. If you get a chance to see decent footage, do watch it. That’s because this footage is useless at showing what happened next. It also doesn’t fully show the impact of the other two punches. Well, actually, it doesn’t show the other two punches. And, while I have suggested these punches weren’t particularly great, they were still pretty damn forceful. The slow-mo footage shows Ashton’s head turn into a jelly for a few moments. The thing is though, after Tuilagi threw the punches, nothing happened. Ashton just stood there. And so did Tuilagi. And Tuilagi looked at Ashton standing in front of him and said, “Huh? What the hell aren’t you doing on the floor? Get down son, you’re making me look like a tit.” Which he did.

5. Officials. While Tuilagi was trying to punch Ashton into Nottingham, the touch judge was doing what all good touch judges should do. He was waving his flag around. The referee, Wayne Barnes eventually noticed the semaphore message and stopped the game. He then had a chat with his touch judge and then sent both Tuilagi and Ashton to the sin-bin. So yes, Tuilagi should be embarrassed for putting the officials in a position where they made the worst decision in the history of refereeing. Ever.

6. Ovation. Despite all I have said about the punches and their ineffectualness the home crowd seemed to love it. I felt somewhat uncomfortable as I watched the Tigers faithful give Tuilagi an ovation as he ran back on the pitch after his sin-bin. Sure, if he had flattened Ashton, give him an ovation. But don’t applaud the guy for half measures. He must have felt three inches tall after hearing that. How embarrassing to hear your own supporters cheer you for not punching properly. They must have thought that’s all he had. Which it was.

7. Handshake. So you’ve thrown everything at your opponent. He’s taken an absolute hammering. So what’s the worst that can happen now? That’s right, he comes up to you at the end of the match without a scratch on him and says, “Well played.” And all you can do is smile and remind everyone that you spend far too long shaping your sideburns.

May 16, 2011
In Conversation With Marc Fearns

In something of an oddity, we’re both on the sofa this Sunday. Usually it’s just Marc and his spam fetish, but this week we thought we’d bring Jon into the equation to give things a little more substance. 7 Reasons has been going on twenty months now. Given our success we would have thought we’d at least have been interviewed on Yorkshire based radio station Whippet FM by now. Sadly, we haven’t. And that’s really disappointing. But, being innovators of great stature, we have decided to do what Whippet FM hasn’t. We are going to interview ourselves. In this two part special we are going to be sitting on the sofa talking to each other. Via the medium of email. This week, it’s Jon interviewing Marc. Here we go.

JL: Hello Marc. Nice baby/glasses. Why did you feel it necessary to involve me in 7 Reasons?

MF: Hello Jon. Nice fiancé/biscuits. It seemed logical. I realised that with someone else on board, I would only have to come up with three and a half reasons per day and – I’ve been told – that doing things on your own is less fun. The first seven reasons piece that I wrote (which was on my own blog, before the provisional concept of the site came to me in the bath) was also partially your idea, so it seemed like the thing to do. It does have its drawbacks: Not being the best writer on my own website occasionally irritates me and I’ve learned more about Whitstable than I ever wanted to but, those minor matters aside, time has proved that it was the right decision. It’s a bit like a variant on infinite monkey theory: If there are two thoroughly daft people in the world with roughly compatible interests and skill-sets, eventually they’ll end up running a website together. Or annoying a woman. Or both. I’m also a big fan of the writing of Jonathan Lee. This way I can see it more often (and get to remove the rogue apostrophes).

JL: It’s nice to hear you’re such a fan, but let’s talk about you more. Almost two years ago you quit the wine industry to start 7 Reasons and redesign the whole of your house. Which do you feel has been more successful?

MF: Well, I do now have a library, a loft, a working roof and a big muddy hole in the front garden but parts of the house are still pink. 7 Reasons, on the other hand, isn’t pink at all. It is also visible from Rio de Janeiro. Definitely 7 Reasons.

JL: We’re approaching our 500th post Birthday. That’s a lot, especially when you consider we use the same formula every single day. Have you ever been tempted to call it a day and go back to fearns.blogspot.com?

Oh, most days. Usually when I’m stuck on five reasons. But other than that, no, not really. I test myself occasionally just to ensure that I retain the ability to write without counting to seven, but 7 Reasons is much more fun and some days it just seems to write itself. Saturdays, mostly.

JL: Obviously an ability to write and count up to seven are essential requirements for a 7 Reasons writer – and may I just say on one of those counts you succeed admirably – but are there any other skills that you feel lend themselves favourably to being part of the 7 Reasons team?

MF: Yes. Anyone can write seven reasons for something, but to make it entertaining requires some sort of minor unhinged-ness, eccentricity, neurosis, and perhaps a soupçon of Francophobia. Most people, for example, on hearing the captivating tones of the woman next door singing lullabies to her children would think no more of it and carry on. A member of the 7 Reasons team would have a different thought process:

That’s the woman next door singing a lullaby. Wow, she’s got lovely pitch and an impressive range. I wish my child’s mother could sing this well to him. Perhaps I could convince the woman next-door to sing to him occasionally, he’d like that… Wait! What am I doing? I’m coveting my neighbour’s wife! I’m not supposed to be doing that, the Bible says not to (possibly). And I’m not even coveting her out of lust! I’m coveting her for her parenting skills, which is probably an even worse betrayal of my child’s mother than coveting a woman for more conventional reasons. Or is it? Does this mean I’m going to hell? Can I get a 7 Reasons post out of it?

That’s the sort of mindset that the 7 Reasons team bring to the plate every day.

JL: What about the need to have a thick skin? You recently wrote a piece about the M&S Dine In For £10 deal. On reading the article, Mark Spencer (probably not his real name) suggested that you were a complete idiot and proffered that you were someone who moans about anything and everything. He then called you an idot. An improvement on idiot though one suspects not overly complimentary. How do you deal with the personal insults?

MF: Before he(she?) called me an “idot”, which as a fan of irony, I heartily approve of, he(she?) also complained (semi-literately) that I wrote a full article on the subject. Presumably he(she?) inhabits a world where people that disagree with him(her?) can only do it in that arcane and obscure form, the partial-article. Either that or Mark Spencer (or, more accurately, Anonymous-From-The-Internet) is a bit unhinged and should really be ignored by right-thinking people. After all, if you have to resort to abuse where there is room for debate and opinion, you’ve really already marked yourself out as not worthy of anyones’ consideration or attention. Generally, I’m happy that I write fair-mindedly, and if people choose not to read things in that manner, that’s really up to them. And most people do, which is heartening.

JL: 7 Reasons is very much concept driven, in a marketplace full of content driven websites do you think the 7 Reasons approach has helped or hindered its growth?

MF: No. Or yes. Or, more accurately, I don’t know. I think it adds a nice hook to the titles of pieces and gives the potential reader some sort of inkling of what to expect. If you imagine the titles of our pieces without the prefix 7 Reasons, what you might expect to see when clicking on that link would be far less clear. I think people realise that they’re not going to get some dull, sprawling, ranty tract that will take all day to read when they see that there are a fixed number of reasons. Plus it gives people that have failed to observe the name on the link or the website’s header the chance to say of any given post, “What, only seven?” and wear their own ignorance as a badge. They seem to like doing that.

On balance, I think the concept helps to attract an audience, but it isn’t the key to retaining them. That’s the role of the content. And all I need to do now is add the phrases “evolve viral experiences”, “synergize leading-edge web-readiness” and “drive front-end bandwidth” to this paragraph and then I can draw a cock on my own back and beat myself to death with an iPad. Great question, Jon. Thanks.

JL: They don’t call me the young Michael Parkinson…actually, that sentence stops there. They don’t call me the young Michale Parkinson. In what will hopefully be a more enjoyable question to answer, which three posts, from the 500 plus that have been published, stand out in your mind?

MF: 7 Reasons Not to Write on a Train stands out. I really enjoyed writing that one, though it really sticks in my mind as a result of the epic battle I had to upload it from Essex the next day. The friends that we were staying with had a broken internet connection that I could have fixed but they couldn’t remember their password. Then it turns out that no establishment in Essex (apart from one place) had working WiFi. Then the working WiFi in the place with the working WiFi stopped working just as I started using it, and many of the places that advertised WiFi weren’t there any more. After six hours of trying to upload the piece from Essex I had to abandon my wife and friends to go to London to use the internet. And to have a beer.

7 Reasons We Love Propaganda Posters also stands out. Just because there are websites out there that have accepted our posters and explanations as historical fact and there’s a part of me that finds that very funny.

7 Reasons Sports Personality 2009 Was A Joke also stands out, mostly for the debate about sport in the 1990s that ensued in the comments section. I don’t think you’ve ever researched anything as thoroughly as you did the sporting year of 1994 during that debate. And then someone else we knew turned up and commented thinking that our website was The Guardian. Fun all round.

JL: And finally, what hopes do you have for 7 Reasons in the future?

MF: Untold riches, tiramisu, world domination and minions; it’d be great to have some of them. Oh, and a book deal.

JL: Well best of luck with that Marc Fearns. Thank you for talking to us.

MF: We’re welcome.

Next week: In Conversation With Jonathan Lee!

May 15, 2011
7 Reasons Not To Have A Staring Contest With The BBC One Ident Hippo

For one reason – which is why it doesn’t qualify for this site – I had to live pause the TV last night so that Claire and I could watch The Apprentice together. I paused the TV when the Hippo ident was showing. The exact point at which I paused is shown below. Knowing that I had at least fifteen minutes before I could press play, I had a choice. Start the ironing or have a staring contest with the hippo. I chose the latter. This is my story (of why it was a stupid idea).

1. Winning. From the moment I even contemplated staring at the hippo I knew I was going to lose. The only way I could have won is if we had had a power cut. (An unlikely scenario unless I was to attack the fuse box with a cucumber). And yet, despite being fully aware of the highly probable outcome, I still entered the battle. It was pointless, it was a waste of time and I was always going to finish second. Or last. Whichever didn’t come first really. For someone who enjoys winning it was a bizarre and futile decision that did me no favours. When the inevitable did happen a little bit of my aura had been destroyed. I’m was no longer the man I once was. So if you are ever tempted, don’t do it. You’ll never be the same again.

2. Distractions. A couple of minutes into the contest my phone rang. Now, even if I don’t answer my phone, I nearly always look at the display to see who I am going to ignore. It’s a habit. While on this occasion I was strong enough to ignore it, my mind was no longer on the job in hand. It was on who might be calling me. Was it Claire saying she’d be longer than she initially thought? Was it my Mum wondering where the rest of her Mother’s Day present was? Was it Marc wanting to sell me a baby? To this very minute I am not sure if my line of vision flinched towards my phone or not. It’s impossible to say. What I do know is, it did me no favours. When you are staring at a Hippo – especially a picture of one on the TV – you have to be in the zone and you have to stay in the zone. Distractions are zone killers.

3. Fish. I gave myself the benefit of the doubt. I told myself that my line of vision had not altered and so, if I was able, I may re-enter the zone. And, after a few minutes, that is what happened. I know this is what happened because my focus began to drift. The hippo was now a blurred hippo. And then the blurred hippo wasn’t a hippo at all. It was a fish. A fish in side-profile. A scary fish in side-profile. I mean this thing was ugly. It had a pair of lips Leslie Ash would have been proud of and a scaly body that reminded me of this. I am not sure this will work for you – in fact I am not sure I want it to work for you – but if you have a spare ten minutes just stare at the hippo above. If you’re unlucky the fish should appear across the lop of the hippo’s head. The lips appear in the hippo’s right eye if that helps.

4. Guilt. Having rid myself of visions of Piers Morgan and Leslie Ash’s illegitimate child, I then experienced severe pangs of guilt. The hippo was drowning. I had done that. I had paused the hippo and made him tread water. Twelve hours on I am pretty sure he wasn’t drowning at all. I am pretty sure this was pre-recorded footage and all I had done was paused its progress. But at the time, when you’ve been staring at a hippo for approximately thirteen minutes, that type of rational thought doesn’t enter your mind. You really do feel like a hippo murderer.

5. Terror. This is when you realise that the hippo is staring back at you. And he looks angry. Probably because you have made him tread-water for fifteen minutes. He also looks a bit like a crocodile with his nostrils protruding from the water. And that’s when you start panicking. Are you actually on BBC One? Are you sure you’re not watching – and recording – Animal Planet? Do you even have the Animal Planet channel? Is there even a channel called Animal Planet? So, yes. Staring at a hippo for too long makes you go mad. Really quite mad.

6. Visions. When Claire eventually arrived beside me on the sofa and gave me an opportunity to end my ordeal, I realised it wouldn’t be over for a little while longer. All the staring at a bright screen in an otherwise dark environment left me looking through those annoying colour blotches that you are only supposed to get when your eyes are closed. As one does in such circumstances I shut my eyes to try and get rid of them. This didn’t work. Instead I was faced with a vision of the hippo. In sort of a yellow and red mosaic. A mosaic that slowly began to disperse. Which is when I decided I was through and settled back to watch The Apprentice. With the occasional appearance from a fish.

7. Tea. I can barely bring myself to write the words. It went cold.

May 12, 2011
7 Reasons The Samoans Really Haven’t Thought This Through

If you read the Weird & Wonderful section of the BBC website you may well have seen that Samoa is to set to jump forward by one day. You may also know this if you are Samoan. And live in Samoa. If you don’t, you need to read this next bit very carefully. At midnight on 28th December 2011 – Samoan time – it won’t be 28th December 2011. It will actually be midnight on 29th December 2011. The Prime Minister, Tuilaepa Sailele Malielegaoi, says the twenty-four hour leap to the west side of the international data line will be good for the economy. It will enable them to do more business with Australia and New Zealand. But have they really thought it through? Our investigations show they may want to rethink.

Samoa Wants To Move To The Left Of The Dotted Line

1. 28th December 2011. That’s a Wednesday! Wednesday is a business day. Surely logic would have said jump forward in time at a weekend. Lose a Saturday or a Sunday. Not a Wednesday!

2. Tourism. Unsurprisingly, what with it being a small island with beautiful beaches, Samoa is a popular holiday destination for people like to lie around doing nothing while getting sunburnt. As a result the tourist industry is a major part of the Samoan economy. The problem is that went people book a ten day holiday they expect ten days. They don’t expect nine days. But that’s exactly what would happen if you go to Samoa for Christmas and New Year. Which is why you won’t. No one will. At the end of this year Samoa will be completely free of tourists. The Samoan economy will shudder to a worrying halt.

3. Natives. What happens if they have a birthday on 28th December? They are either going to stay in Samoa and not have a birthday which means no money being spent on presents, cake, balloons and Pin The Tail On The Donkey kits. Or they are going to go away to celebrate which means money will be spent on presents, cake, balloons, and Pin The Tail On The Donkey kits in Sydney. Either way, Samoa’s economy loses.

4. Productivity. So, without a 28th December, Samoa will be faced with a four day week. Only they won’t because the 26th and 27th are public holidays. So they’ll have a two day week. Thanks to the foresight of Tuilaepa Sailele Malielegaoi, Samoans are going to have to cram five days work into just two. It’s not going to happen. I guarantee you now that the entire Somoan workforce will be on strike on the 29th and 30th December. So basically, from 23rd December until 3rd January, nothing is going to happen in Samoa. Hardly the sort of attitude that is going to inspire New Zealand and Australia based companies to work with them is it?

5. Pressure. At the moment Samoa is the last place to see daylight. The pressure is off them really. Everyone else has done that day and are now either chilling, sleeping or preparing for a the next day. Samoans can pretty much do what they want safe in the knowledge that no one is watching. Come 2012 though, they are going to be leading the world into every new day. They have the responsibility to get us off to a good start. If they have a bad one, so do the rest of us. That is a lot of pressure and a lot of change. Really, they should have had a trial period first. Perhaps moving Samoa to just West of Ireland. This way they’d have experienced some pressure, but not potentially economy damaging pressure.

6. The Americas. Samoa’s argument is that the majority of their business ties are with Australia and New Zealand and so by advancing by a day they get to work with them for five days instead of just three*. That’s putting an awful lot of eggs in just two baskets. There are thirty-five ~~countries~~ baskets in The Americas. Some baskets, like the basket of the USA, are so big that they contain sub-baskets. There’s a basket for New York. A basket for Chicago. A basket for Los Angeles. In other words, there is opportunity. If a Samoan finds a basket is full, well he can move on to another. This time-travelling is not only going to reduce the size of these America based baskets, but some will disappear all together.** Lots of Samoans will be looking to transfer their eggs to the baskets of New Zealand and Australia. And while these baskets are going to be slightly bigger, there are going to be a whole lot more eggs in them. And when you have too many eggs in a basket that leads to cracking. And, eventually, egg white saturation.

7. Warranties. Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, I purchased a freeview box in Apia on 29th December 2010. The warranty runs out on 28th December 2011. What happens if it breaks down on 28th December? A date that doesn’t exist. I foresee a lot of correspondence going back and forth. That’s a whole lot of stamps. And a whole lot of expense. It alarms me that Tuilaepa Sailele Malielegaoi has made the decision without even contemplating such eventualities. And let me assure you, by hook or by crook I will get my hands on a Samoan freeview box and I will be following this up. All for the love of reasoning.

*At present, when it’s Monday in New Zealand and Australia, it’s Sunday in Samoa. And when it’s Friday in Samoa, it’s Saturday in New Zealand and Australia.

**When it’s Monday in Samoa it will be Sunday in The Americas and when it’s Friday in the Americas it will be Saturday in Samoa.

May 10, 2011
7 Reasons That Having A Baby Can Be Hard On A Man
It’s Saturday. Or, as we call it around these parts, Richard O’Hagan Day. You see Richard, apart from being a fine writer, is on a mission. A mission to become the third permanent member of the 7 Reasons team. He may not have mentioned it out loud, he may not even realise it himself, but given the sheer number of O’Hagan works we have in the 7 Reasons ‘to be published’ vault, his sub-conscious wants it. Badly. Just take a look at these figures that show the origins of submissions and their associated percentages.
- USA – 28%
- UK – 23%
- Australia – 5%
- France – 3%
- Canada – 2%
- Pakistan – 2%
- India – 2%
- South Africa – 1%
- Muppetville – 1%
- Richard O’Hagan – 33%
Exactly. Incredible. And rather disturbing. Which is a shame really because the writer of The Memory Blog isn’t disturbing at all. He’s a great writer with lots of useful advice. Which he will now aptly demonstrate.

Three Men And A Byron

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. It is something along the lines of “He’s a man (allegedly). He knows nothing about how hard it is to have a baby. How DARE he try and offer an opinion on this.”

To which all I can say is, bear with me*, ladies. There’s a point to all of this. I am a father. Marc of this parish has just become father to The Legendary Byron Sebastian Fearns. And Jon has just got engaged, which means that fatherhood is marching towards him with the grim inevitability of a giant spider with a particularly juicy fly snared in its web. There are some serious points which he needs to be aware of, as do any men out there without issue. There’s a big temptation to think that the difficult bit comes around nine months before the birth, but that’s not the case. Once the baby arrives, life is hard for a man.

1. Being a Role Model. You’ve spend the last few decades of your life belching, breaking wind and yelling when you want to. Sorry, but there’s someone else in the house to do that now. Your role is now to be a positive role model for the child, which means an end to coming home bladdered at 3am and trying to make toast using the DVD player, no popping out to the shops and vanishing for three days, and absolutely no supporting Manchester United. (Unless your offspring will be Charlie Sheen’s grandson, in which case you’ve a family tradition to maintain. And even Charlie draws the line at the last thing).

2. Expense. Everyone says that babies are expensive. They’re not. It will be years before they crash your car, or you need to bail them out. People who look after babies, on the other hand, really are expensive. You will find yourself forking out hundreds of pounds a month just so that you can go to work to earn the money to pay the people who look after your child whilst you go to work. It is a cycle more vicious than the one that resulted in a baby in the first place.

3. Pain. Once your female partner has given birth, nothing on this earth is going to convince them that you are enduring any kind of pain whatsoever. The Black Knight in ‘Monty Python & The Holy Grail’ wasn’t brave, he just knew that he was never going to convince his Lady that having all of your limbs lopped off justified reaching for the Aspirin. Being a father means never being able to complain of a hangover again.

4. Language. Whilst we are at it, you might as well brace yourself for the fact that ladies in labour are not always the politest, and that you may be about to learn a few new words. All of them directed at you and several of them anatomically improbable.

5. Empathy. For many years, you and the prospective mother of your prospective child have lived in harmony, anticipating each other’s needs and desires. Having a baby will put an end to all of that. There are two questions that you should never ask a woman in labour, and one of them is “How does it feel?”** You should never ask this question, because you will receive an answer which puts you in the one situation in which you are unequipped to empathise. The answer is “Like the worst period pain ever”***

6. In-Laws. If you produce a baby, your in-laws will visit. Need I say more?

7. Space (Lack Thereof). You might be thinking that the saying that babies might be small but they need a lot of stuff is some sort of urban myth. There are certainly many urban myths about having a baby and you’d be right to disregard them**** but not this one. Work might expand to fill the time available, but nothing beats the rule which says that baby stuff expands to fill the space available. There’s a great temptation to think that you can get around this by moving to a bigger house, but it won’t work. There will still be stuff everywhere. And what is more, you’ll have to work more hours to pay the bigger mortgage, meaning you need more childcare, meaning that you need to work harder to pay for the childcare, and so on until death, really.

On the other hand, children are great fun and the hardship is well worth it. Yes, even the bits where she swears at you.

*I said bear WITH ME, not ‘bear down’. Stop it! Now! Think of the carpets!

**You’re not old enough to know the other one

***There’s actually a question on Facebook which says ‘Which hurts more, having a baby or a kick in the testicles’, which has only been answered by bigots and idiots. And the teenage daughter of a friend of mine, who has experience of neither.

****Disregard any books you might be given, too. The babies can’t read them and so have no idea what to do
May 7, 2011
7 Reasons You Should Never Tickle A Penguin

The other week this video was uploaded to YouTube. It is a hand tickling a penguin. We wish to advise viewers of a nervous disposition that the film contains disturbing sights and sounds.*

I know what you are thinking. Absolutely shocking! This is an outrage! A penguin should never be tickled! We quite agree. There are a whole host of reasons why. But this is a look at the first seven:

1. Pain. You may think that is the sound of a penguin laughing. If you do, you’d be wrong. That is the sound of a penguin screaming. How cruel. I expect penguin ticklers such as the owner of the arm in this video also put live crabs and in boiling water and laugh when the crab starts whistling. It’s not whistling! It’s screaming. That’s why you should always bash its skull in before dropping it in the water. Much more humane. I would never advocate smashing a penguin’s skull in, but at least it’s quicker than tickling it to death.

2. Urine. Usually, when someone starts tickling me, I feel the need to visit the bathroom and relieve my bladder. This is most inconvenient, especially when I am on the bus. I know I’m not the only one. When that fruitcake went around tickling everyone on the number 14 there was a mad dash to get off at the next stop. If a penguin had been on the bus I dare say he too would have needed to hop off. So, if you don’t want a penguin to wee on your hand, don’t tickle him. Or her.

3. Fight. A penguin could slap you to eternity. And when you get to eternity it’ll keep slapping you. Those flippers aren’t just for swimming you know. Well, no, you probably don’t know. Unless you’ve tickled a penguin.

4. Sex. Apparently, tickling can be used as a foreplay technique. To be honest tickling myself has never done anything for me so I have never bothered. But for those of you who do find a good tickle pleasurable before practicing the art of baby making, what are you going to do if the penguin tickling gets you a bit horny? Are you going to be able to stop yourself? Having sex with penguin – with or without consent – is not just wrong in the eyes of 7 Reasons you know. It’s wrong in the eyes of the NSPCA too. And quite frankly, even if it was legal, having sex with a penguin in someone’s eyes is just a tad inconsiderate.

5. Emperors. Once you’ve tickled a penguin it’s very had to justify stopping. Are you just going to tickle baby penguins? Or female penguins? Or penguins in a zoo that you can tickle with Ken Dodd’s tickling stick? Where do you draw the line? Personally I would have drawn it at least thirty miles before Ken Dodd’s tickling stick came into view, but I’m not a penguin tickler. What would you do, for instance, if you were faced with an emperor penguin? Would you tickle it? An emperor? An emperor, let me remind you, is a monarch. A sovereign ruler. If I was to tickle the Queen I wouldn’t get away with it. If you tickle an emperor penguin, neither will you.

6. Role Reversal. Anyone who seems to think that tickling a penguin will entertain it seems to be forgetting something. A penguin is supposed to entertain you. By telling you a rubbish joke. Something along the lines of, ‘Why don’t you see penguins in Britain? Because they are afraid of Wales!’ That sort of thing. You then get to eat it. Tickling a penguin would make you look weird. And you might scratch all the chocolate off.

7. Psychedelia. That’s right. What happens if you end up trying to tickle the 7 Reasons psychedelic penguin? Or indeed a psychedelic penguin not related to 7 Reasons at all. I don’t know. I’ve read the first six reasons and so I know not to tickle a penguin. As a result I can only guess. I think it probably includes hallucinations though. Hallucinations that feature giant penguins trying to tickle you. That doesn’t sound good to me. So my advice is don’t go there. Keep sane and leave the psychedelic penguins alone.

Right, I think that’s everything. As you were. Without the penguin.

*Not really. It’s actually quite cute.**

**Don’t read this until you have read the whole post. It sort of undermines our reasoning.

May 6, 2011
7 Reasons You Should Never Throw Away Your Left Contact Lens

Jon had to get this close to see what he was doing

1. Replacement. I wear monthly disposable contact lenses. For those not in the know it means I can wear a pair for 28, 30 or 31 days before they automatically dissolve into my iris. Occasionally though, the lenses become irritating or torn before the 28, 30 or 31 day limit arrives. When this happens I get rid of them and put in a new lens. It makes sense. So yesterday when my left lens started irritating me, I threw it in the bin. I then went to bed. And I slept. Soundly. This morning I rose, showered and went to put a new lens in. And this is when I realised I really should have checked I had a spare left lens before I got rid of the irritable one. Because I didn’t. There was no lens. Not one. Zilch. Oh dear.

2. 2006. England lost to Portugal on penalties and I broke my leg playing cricket. As far as I can remember those are main the highlights from that year. You probably still have visions of at least one of these. Something else happened in 2006 though. I bought a pair of glasses. You’d probably only remember this if you were my joint optometrist/stalker. The glasses in question can be seen above. Now, five years is a long time in eye years. Mine have deteriorated quite a lot and as such so have the minus numbers on my prescription. As a result, unless I am up very close and personal, I can’t see a bloody thing through them. The wise among you may question why I haven’t purchased glasses since 2006. Well, I have. It’s just that I sort of lost them. Twice. And losing stuff is an expensive hobby. Which is why I haven’t bought anymore since. So basically, I’m blind. I’m wearing these glasses but I’m blind.

3. And Scary. I don’t like me in glasses. Especially these glasses. I think I look like I am trying to look inside your brain. And I’m not. I’m really not. To be honest with you I’d probably struggle to find your head with these on. But I can’t tell everyone who sees me that I am not as scary as I look. If someone came up to me and told me they were not as scary as they looked I wouldn’t believe them. So how can I expect other people to believe me? Until I can get my eyes on a new lens I am going to have to look directly at the floor. At all times. If I can see where it is.

4. Vision Express. I don’t know much about other opticians as I’ve always been with Vision Express. For contact lenses at least. They’re a touch on the expensive side but they do offer added benefits. Apparently. And a free quarterly magazine which I last received in 2009. So I guess they could improve their service a bit. One thing they do offer is free replacement lenses if you accidentally tear one (or throw it in the bin). The two mile blind walk to the branch is somewhat frustrating, but at least you know you’ll be able to see on the return journey. Or at least you would be able to if Vision Express had the lenses you require in stock. If they don’t you have little option but to make the blind walk home. And no, you can’t get a bus. You’ll probably get on the wrong one. Or get in the cab of a fire engine. You might get lucky though, it might not be moving like the one I tried to get into was.

5. Irrational Behaviour. Now, I have never felt the inclination to rummage around in bins before, but that could well have been because I have never lost my sight before. That’s why you’d have found me in a bin at about 11am today. Or my hands at least. Don’t worry, there was nothing else in the bin apart from a tissue. And the packaging from a new pen. Hopefully you will have worked out by now that I was looking for my left contact lens. I found it. All crisp and brittle. In a move that would startle eye health experts the world over the lens is now sitting in cleaning solution in my desperate attempt to bring it back to life. And you know what, yes, I am going to try and wear it again. Because I’m a rebel. An irrational rebel.

6. Dishonesty. I wear my contacts every day. Except Sundays. That at least is what I tell my optometrist. Obviously, being a normal person, I wear my contact lenses every single day including Sunday and lie to my optometrist. Oh, don’t pretend you’re not the same. But now I’m not wearing contact lenses at all. Which means when I tell my optometrist that I wear my contact lenses every day except Sunday I’ll be lying about six days of the week. At least when I wore my lenses I was only lying about one day of the week. Throwing away my contact lens has made me dirty,

7. Time. Throwing away a contact lens destroys your day. Or, in this case, the next day. It’s now 2pm. Today’s 7 Reasons post should have been uploaded at 9am. That’s five hours ago. Trying to restore my sight – and so far failing – has taken five hours! That means I am five hours behind schedule. This means I will have to have my lunch at 6pm. And my dinner at midnight. I’ll go to bed at about 3.30am. And get up at about 11am. And the process will continue. Always. I’ll never post a 7 Reasons piece on time ever again. I’ll be late for my wedding. I’ll try and make a baby in the middle of the biscuit aisle in Tesco. I’ll end up in the wrong coffin. This is a disaster. Because I can’t see I am always going to be five hours behind the world.* And not just in the brain department. What a nightmare. What an absolutely hidoeus nightmare my life has become.

*Unless I move to New York.

May 4, 2011