Tag: Richard O’Hagan

Guest Post: 7 Reasons Christmas Eve Is Better Than Christmas Day

If you were in the 7 Reasons club this time last year, no doubt you’ll be rushing down to the butchers today to celebrate The Day Of The Sausage. The rest of you, no doubt, will be eagerly awaiting tomorrow. Christmas Day. Arguably the best day of the year. Well, certainly in the top 365 anyway. Here at 7 Reasons we are not adverse to handing out gifts and this year you get yours a day early. It’s a special Christmas post from the undisputed King of Guest Posts, Richard O’Hagan. PS: When he’s not writing rude words in the snow he’s adding to his Memory Blog. Well worth a RSS Feed Subscription.

1. Anticipation. One of the best things about Christmas Eve is that it isn’t Christmas Day. Obviously. This means that it is the day when you reach the height of anticipation about the day to come. You can’t do anything more. The shops are shut and Amazon haven’t been able to piece together a next day delivery service for December 25th*, so you just have to kick back, relax and resign yourself to the fact that you can’t do anything to make Christmas any better, so you just have to look forward to the day to come. And you also get to build large toys whilst drunk. No-one who has ever tried to put together a tricycle at five to midnight ever forgets that experience, no matter how much Baileys they’ve downed beforehand (and no matter how hard they try to)

2. Food Choice. It’s only Christmas Eve, so you can eat what you damn well like. The mandatory turkey-fest is another day away and all dining options remain open to you. Which means that if you fancy getting a huge takeaway so that you can have the leftovers for breakfast on Christmas morning, you can do. Or you could have sausages.

3. TV. For all of the build up that the television companies give to the 25th, Christmas Eve television is infinitely better than Christmas Day’s offering. Aside from anything else, it tends not to be clogged up with octogenarians reading you their Christmas letter and Channel 4 trying far too hard to be trendy, not to mention the tired old sitcoms that weren’t that funny anyway being even less funny as they try to shoehorn a festive storyline into their archaic format.

4. Shopping. The shops being closed on Christmas Day isn’t a bad thing in general, but at least on Christmas Eve you can pop to Sainsbury’s if you run out of milk or, heaven forbid, booze.

5. Work. Admittedly this doesn’t apply to so many people this year, but over seventy percent of the time Christmas Eve is a work day. It is a great day to go to work for most, because almost nothing gets done, you get to go home early and someone pays you for working the full day. And if you do have to work properly, you get to feel all virtuous and Christmassy anyway because you are the only people working properly, so it is a win-win whichever way you look at it.

6. Lie-Ins. Whether you are working or not, you can be sure of one thing – you will get to sleep in longer on Christmas Eve than you will on Christmas Day. If you have small children, they will be up and wanting to open presents practically as soon as the clock passes midnight. If you have older children, you’re probably going to be woken up by your grandchildren instead. If you have no children, your partner will get over-excited and still wake you up early. And if you live alone, don’t worry, there will be a child wailing somewhere long before 7am to rouse you from your slumber. Get all the sleep you can on the 24th, because the 25th is going to hurt. Which is why you should make sure that you don’t run out of booze on the 24th.

7. Disappointment. Inevitably, Christmas Day cannot live up to all of the expectations. We build it up to be the perfect day of all days, so something has to go wrong – the turkey taking too long to cook, the neighbours calling in unexpectedly, Santa not bringing you the moon on a stick that you asked for. Christmas Day cannot help but be a disappointment. Christmas Eve never is, because at the end of it a fat bloke is going to give you a load of presents. And nothing is better than free presents, is it?

*In truth, they’ve not really worked out a delivery service for most of December, preferring the ‘give it to Yodel or City Link and hope the customer forgets ever ordering it’ option. One the things I ordered is presumably still in a locked empty flat where Yodel apparently delivered it a fortnight ago.

December 24, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why The Banana Splits Are Brilliant

I would like to say we’ve been saving this one especially for Christmas. But that would be lying. The truth is I lost this post in the 7 Reasons vault sometime in April. Not that I knew it at the time. You see, this only came to light on Friday when today’s author – Richard O’Hagan – queried why we hadn’t published his 43rd 7 Reasons work. Or words to that effect anyway. I said I didn’t know and blamed Marc. Then I realised it was my fault. Anyway, it’s all sorted now and today Richard’s post finally gets the airing it deserves. If you want to read more from Richard, he’s still remembering things and writing them down over at The Memory Blog.

***

This post was precipitated by a conversation which I had with Marc at the end of March. Well, I say ‘conversation’, but it was on Twitter and largely consisted of me sitting there twiddling my thumbs whilst Marc went off and changed nappies/fed the wife/saved the world/did other manly things. The conversation began with Marc comparing me to the fifth Beatle, something which I objected to on the grounds of limited life expectancy and even more limited royalty cheques. It ended with me agreeing to be the fifth Banana Split, which suits me fine because I have a weakness for ice cream sundaes (they are more edible that Russian Roulette ones, I find).

Then I realised that he didn’t mean delicious fruit and dairy desserts, but the television show of the same name. Which I didn’t mind either, because I loved that show as a kid. In fact, here are ‘7 Reasons Why The Banana Splits Are Brilliant’.

1. Fleegle. What better name could there be for a beagle? It rhymes, it has the ‘flea’ connotation, and moreover this one was in charge of one of the greatest television shows ever. If I actually liked dogs, and if they didn’t fall foul of my ‘no point in having any pet that you can’t eat’ rule*, and if I was going to get a beagle, I’d name it ‘Fleegle’ too.

2. Bingo. Bingo was the drum playing orangutan with the glasses and the biggest grin this side of an American TV evangelist. Whenever great, charismatic, drummers are mentioned – Moon the Loon, Bonzo Bonham, Animal from The Muppets – Bingo is always left out, yet that level of spaced out dementia doesn’t just come from nowhere. Today, 7 Reasons is putting Bingo back where he belongs, in the great pantheon of drumming nutjobs.

3. Snorky. Without a doubt the least convincing elephant in the history of television, Snorky (for some reason referred to as ‘Snork’ in the theme song) was the non-speaking, squeaking, member of the Splits. Surprisingly deft on the keyboards and remarkably hairy, he has the odd distinction of being the most recognisable of the four despite never saying an intelligible word, thereby making him the Ian Brown of his day.

4. Drooper. It was only when I was researching this piece – yes, there was research, you think I just know this stuff? – that I realised that Drooper was supposed to be a lion. I’d always assumed that he was some particularly mangy breed of dog. Now I know that he’s actually the skinniest, mangiest lion in history. But he did have exceedingly cool sunglasses well before the likes of Liam Gallagher were even thought of. And ‘Drooper’s Letters’ preceded anything Viz could come up with by at least a decade. Moreover, he was voiced by

5. Daws Butler. The legendary Hanna-Barbera voiceover artist, the man behind not only Snagglepuss and Quick Draw McGraw, but Yogi Bear himself. That’s right, the Banana Splits have a direct genetic line to Yogi and BooBoo, despite none of them being a bear at all. Which means that they invented cross species genetic engineering long before Wayne Rooney’s parents thought of it.

6. Banana Buggies. Would sir like a multicoloured beach buggy to drive across the dunes at high speed? YES PLEASE! If there has been a cooler summertime mode of transport than a Banana Buggy then I have yet to see it. And better still, unlike other anthropomorphosised television characters, they didn’t have to share. Oh no. They got one each. Being a Banana Split meant never having to wonder which seat you were going to sit in, and therefore never having to understand Rebecca Black.

7. Theme Tune. The theme tune is, without doubt, the greatest children’s tv theme of all time. Aside from anything else, it is the only one to have been covered by a punk band** and the only one that it is still cool to sing when you are as old as me***. And definitely the only one to have been released on yellow vinyl.

*You were expecting a tired cliché masquerading as a joke here, won’t you. Go on, admit it! I can see you smiling, you know.

**The Toy Dolls’ cover of ‘Nellie the Elephant’ doesn’t count, as it was never the theme to a children’s show and they were about as punk as Cliff Richard

***Oh, yes it is!

December 19, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons My Wife Buys The Best Presents

Just supposing, for instance, that this was the last Guest Post we ever published. Who would you like it to be written by? I suspect at least 26% of you would choose Richard O’Hagan. Like Dr Simon Percy Jennifer Best who posted last week and Liz Gregory who posted a few weeks ago, Richard is a 7 Reasons stalwart. He’s the author of The Memory Blog, the face behind @theskiver and he likes marmite. That, we think, is all you need to know.

Crisps!

It recently came to my attention that there are people out there who make a career of going shopping for other people. Now, personally, I cannot think of anything worse than going shopping for other people. I mean, going shopping for myself is stressful enough. Going shopping for presents doubly so. Why on earth would you want to make a career out of it*?

Fortunately**, I am married to a woman who also hates shopping. Which therefore makes it even more surprising that she is the best present buyer ever. I don’t just mean by comparison with me, either, because I am completely rubbish at it (one year I gave her a cheese grater as a gift). Just consider this: The People Who Buy Presents For Other People need you to give them some sort of a list, so that they know roughly what to get. I have a wish list on Amazon – two of them, in fact – and my wife almost never uses it. Instead, she uses her initiative to come up with wonderful gifts such as this:

1. A Box of Seabrook’s Tomato Ketchup Crisps. My life is an endless quest for ketchup flavoured crisps, and has been ever since I first tried them on our honeymoon. Since when I have rarely seen them in the shops, not even in the USA where, frankly, you’d expect the locals to be munching them down for breakfast lunch and dinner. It had never occurred to me to simply see if you could buy them off the internet, but my wife did.

2. A Cross Pen. No, not an angry writing implement. I once commented to my wife that my Tombo fountain pen seemed to be nearing the end of its life. I then thought no more of it until, approximately three months later, I received a beautiful Cross pen as a Christmas present. A pen of such high quality that I’ve had to learn how to write with it. And I didn’t even ask for it.

3. A Book About Scriptwriting. For almost two years now (or over two years, depending upon when this gets published) I have been labouring over a script for a television comedy. It is very hard to get a script commissioned if you are not either an established writer, or related to one, or both. It hadn’t even occurred to me that there are books that I could consult about the subject, but this one now nestles in my bedside cabinet where I can dip into it whenever I want. So far, it has been invaluable.

4. A Letter Opener. I don’t get much mail, and most of what I do get is either bills that I have already received online and magazines that I subscribe to. But every now and then I get a proper letter, in a proper envelope, and I need to open it. My fingers are not only large, but they are often in a state of mangledness after a close encounter with a cricket ball or a rugby boot. I have always wanted a letter opener and was therefore extremely pleased when my wife gave me one as a Christmas present, even though I still cannot recall mentioning to her that I wanted one.

5. Marmite Spoons. That’s right, spoons for scooping the yummy delight that it Marmite out of the jar and onto your bread, toast or whatever. Each has a different Marmite jar on the top. You can’t beat being able to offer your guests Marmite with a special spoon. Words cannot describe the envious looks that I get.

6. A CD Subscription. Did you know that Rough Trade Records have a subscription service? I didn’t. My wife did. It is a very simple plan. You give them money and each month they choose a new CD and send it to you. You discover music that you might not listen to otherwise. It is like the Olympics ticket lottery, only you actually get something at the end of it. A brilliant idea, and a brilliant gift

7. Cricket. Not a gift that you can easily giftwrap, I’ll admit. Cricket may be the best game on the planet, but even I have to admit that it can take a little while to play. Despite this, my wife has never once tried to stop me playing it, or going to watch it, and lumbering her with our exuberant child to look after. There are not many better gifts that selflessly letting someone do something they love.

All of which means that you can forget using any of these services, because they will never be as inventive at gift buying as my wife is. Now, where did I put that cheese grater?

*Unless you are my mother, who would regard this as a dream job.

**For me, not necessarily for her.

October 22, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Everyone Should Eat Marmite

In the last few weeks we have been inundated with phone calls, emails, faxes, carrier pigeons and one – entirely unrelated – message wrapped around a brick. ‘Where is he?’ they’ve been asking. ‘Is he coming back?’ ‘Is he as beautiful as his writing?’ All of this hyperbole meant that we couldn’t post on Tuesday.* (And Marc was at Knitting Club** which didn’t help either). So the only way we felt we could apologise for that faux-pas adequately was to give you what you want. Who you want. So yesterday Marc and I set off to get him. As it turned out we didn’t have to go far. He was waiting outside. In the rain. Unshaven and looking desperate. So we brought him in (me), dried him off (Marc) and knitted him a new jumper (Marc). And now we’re pleased to say he’s back in top form. And more importantly hers back on the sofa. Ladies and gentlemen, would you please raise your Marmite jars to the perrenialist of all our perennial guest writers, Mr Richard O’Hagan.

After Richard had been bathed and shaved by Marc, he was ready to write.

There’s no lead in to this one, no drop paragraph or anything like that. Eating Marmite is so obviously the correct thing to do:

1. Tipple. It is made from beer. Do I really need to say more than that? Marmite is the yeast that is left after beer is made (roughly speaking). Anything that is made from beer has to be good, right? In fact, do you really need another six reasons?

2. All Man. It got its makers accused of promoting homosexuality. Yes, really. Back in the early 2000s, they ran an ad campaign where a male lifeguard was seen giving the kiss of life to a male swimmer. In the week that it was first shown, the manufacturers received an angry letter from a man who accused them of promoting homosexuality. For the avoidance of doubt, Marmite will not make you a homosexual unless you were one in the first place.

3. Aesthetics. It comes in a distinctive jar. The only thing that looks like a Marmite jar is a marmite, the French cooking pot after which it is named (again, for the avoidance of doubt, Marmite isn’t French). If you are eating Marmite, no casual observer can be in any doubt as to what it is you are eating. That jar says, “I am a Marmite eater, and proud of it”.

4. Something For Everyone. They make special versions of it. As well as regular Marmite, you have been able to eat Champagne Marmite, Guinness Marmite, Marmite XO and even Marston’s Pedigree Marmite. Do you get special versions of peanut butter? Or strawberry jam? No. Further evidence of Marmite’s superiority.

5. Roasts. You can add it to gravy. If you want to give your gravy an extra kick, just add a spoonful of Marmite. Not only is this tip suitable for vegetablists (Marmite is vegetablist friendly), you try adding marmalade to gravy and see what you get.

6. Cheddar. You can add it to cheese. Ever had a raspberry jam and cheddar sandwich? Thought not. I’ll save you the trouble. It is horrible. Cheddar and Marmite, on the other hand, is a marriage made in heaven – so much so that you can now buy Marmite Cheddar.

7. Greed. My wife doesn’t like it. Thus ensuring that there is all the more for me.***

Now go forth, eat Marmite, and enrich your lives.

*Many thanks to Alex Clement-Meehan for retweeting nothing anyway. She’s obsessed.

**100% true.

***7 Reasons would like to apologise for the contradiction that appears in reason seven. Perhaps the title of this post should have been ‘7 Reasons Why Everyone Apart From Mrs O’Hagan Should Eat Marmite’?

August 6, 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
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Boys Are Better Than Girls

Just over a year ago you may remember Natalie Clifford gave us 7 Reasons Why Women Are Better Than Men. And, for a year, we have let the fairer sex have their moment. Mainly because no one dared argue differently. That is until one man decided to step forward. That man is brave. That man is the writer of The Memory Blog. That man is Richard O’Hagan. Today Richard sits on the edge of the 7 Reasons sofa – in an undisclosed location – ready to readdress the balance. Here, in his words, are seven reasons boys are better than girls.

The idea for this post came to me one Sunday evening. I was stood there doing the ironing and utterly failing to come up with any ideas for my own website when the sight of my wife preparing my dinner* made me think, “Being a boy is so much better than being a girl.”**

And then I thought, “I wonder if those nice chaps at 7 Reasons would be interested in a guest post which might actually increase their site traffic, even if all of the new hits are from angry feminazis?”

So here you have it – 7 Reasons Why Boys Are Better Than Girls, and one which hopefully avoids all the tired old suggestions such as ‘being able to pee standing up’*** and ‘not leaking like a BP oil well once a month’.

1. Self-Awareness. Boys are simply more self aware than girls are. Boys know that once they have got out of bed in the morning, that is pretty much as good as they are going to look for the rest of the day. A quick wash and brush up, maybe a shave (according to personal and religious preferences) and that is it. We don’t spend time applying many different layers of make-up, or agonising over what to wear that day, because we know we’d only be trying to fool ourselves. And this then leads to…

2. Lower Expectations. Everyone knows I am going to show up to any given event looking like I have been dragged through a hedge backwards. I’ve been perfecting the look for years and I know that there is as much point trying to get me to look smart as there is in giving Pompeii a quick dusting. If you don’t spend your life trying to look as if you have just strolled in off the pages of a fashion magazine then no-one expects you to look like that.

3. Less Gullible. Let us not beat around the bush here. Boys are less gullible than girls. No-one has ever convinced us that nylon – a material which unravels as soon as you look at it – is a suitable covering for our legs. No-one has ever convinced us that we need to chuck out a quarter of our clothing every three months because “that’s so last spring/summer/autum/winter”. And no-one has ever convinced us to wear beige simply by renaming it ‘taupe’****.

4. Cats. The phrase is ‘Crazy Cat Lady’. No-one ever said ‘Crazy Cat Man’ (well, not without being so stoned that they think it is still the 1960s) and no man has ever been found dead and alone in a feline infested flat, with the moggies feasting upon his decaying flesh. Being a girl means developing a strange attracting to furry four-legged gits.

5. Shoes. Boys wear sensible shoes. Shoes you can run in (see reason 7). Shoes you can walk in. Shoes which are comfortable. Girls, on the other hand, think that shoes mean some towering edifice which makes perambulation almost impossible and painful toes a part of daily life. Moreover, being a girl means that you feel the need to spend roughly the Gross National Product of Namibia on acquiring more uncomfortable shoes than you could ever need even if you lived for six lifetimes. Boys have one pair of shoes, wear them until they wear out, then buy another pair; Girls have eleventy million pairs of shoes, wear some of them, then chuck them out and start all over again twelve months later (see reason three)*****.

6. Driving. Cars were simply not designed for girls. This is no slight upon the perceived lack of driving ability among females, it is a fact. The basic design of the car began with the male physique in mind and hasn’t altered. Girls have proportionately longer legs and shorter bodies than boys. If cars were designed for them they would have deeper footwells, lower dashboards and no doubt many other female-friendly alterations (a lipstick holder or something). No car has yet been made like this, not even the Mazda MX-5, a car no male with a molecule of testosterone in his body would be seen dead driving.

7. Running. Running makes boys look manly, as if they are hunting down prey or chasing a foe. When girls run they always look like they are attempting to do a very fast Charleston whilst simultaneously going in the opposite direction. Something which I shall now demonstrate by running away from this angry horde of feminazis******.

*She was not cooking because I am some kind of raving sexist monster, she was cooking because the local crematorium cannot keep pace with the after-effects if I cook.

**This was after the umpteenth interruption to reach down something from the middle shelf of our kitchen cupboards, a task I perform willingly but whilst wondering what the use of a kitchen cupboard is if 50% of the users cannot reach beyond the salt and pepper storage level*******

***I once heard the occasionally-funny Sandi Toksvig claim that women didn’t regard this as an essential skill. Try telling that to the female attendees at any large outdoor event.

****Moreover, the invention of ‘taupe’ had a detrimental effect upon the men of the world, as by the million they were denied Bouncy Bedroom Fun by their female partners after exclaiming “Taupe? Looks like beige to me, love”

*****For the avoidance of doubt, my wife is not a typical girl. At least in this respect.

******There is no reason for this set of asterisks. In addition to alienating 51% of the world’s population, I wanted to break the ‘most asterisks in a post’ record

*******There are other things as well as salt and pepper on that level, obviously. Or will be, right up to the point where my wife reads this and throws them at me

March 26, 2011
Russian Roulette Sunday: 7 Reasons To Borrow One Of The 7 Reasons Team

Good morning Sunday. Usually on Sunday we rid ourselves of the strict seven reasons framework and let it all hang out. Today is slightly different. Without request, bargaining or bribery, former (and future) guest writer Richard O’Hagan decided to be nice to us. Now, 50% of the 7 Reasons team don’t go in for all this self-loving egotistical narcissism that is so prevalent on the internet. The other 50% can’t get enough. And because he is in charge this Sunday he has decided to share the nice things Richard said about us with you. For reasons best known to himself – though he did cite our week of cat flap/flat cap/flat cat borrowing – Richard has thoughtfully provided the world with seven reasons as to why one of you should borrow one of us. And here they are:

1. Technical Skills (IT). It must be obvious to anyone that the 7 Reasons team are technical geniuses when it comes to computer related stuff. Every now and then a post appears which is so laden with computer-speak that it is the written equivalent of being audible only to dogs, ergo they must know a lot more about this stuff than you or I. So the next time that your office computers crash, don’t wait for some numpty in Prague or Mumbai to diagnose your problem, simply borrow a 7 Reasons member to sort it out for you

2. Technical Skills (DIY). Look at that sofa! Isn’t it a work of genius? How much talent must be bottled up in these two guys, that they can produce something so seamless that you can hardly see the join (apart from the change in colour and style, obviously). Here are men so talented with a saw, screwdriver and hammer that the likes of Tommy Walsh weep in their presence (presumably). There is simply no reason to employ someone else to put up your shelves or build your decking when you can go to the very best and borrow Marc or Jon

3. Geographical Convenience. Better still, with one of them (Marc) being Oop North, and the other (Jon, by a process of elimination) Dahn Sarf, you can guarantee that a 7 Reasons expert is only minutes away (as even hours can be measured in minutes, too), thereby making them far more likely to show up and fix your problem than any other so-called expert

4. Lemons. One of my wife’s frequent complaints is that whenever I buy fish, I forget to buy a lemon for her to squeeze over it. 7 Reasons practically runs on the things, so why not borrow a 7 Reasons-er to do your shopping for you and avoid citrus-related domestic grief forever (unless your wife wanted limes. Or oranges)

5. Cats. Have you ever tried getting a cat sitter? It is almost impossible to find one for less than the cost of the holiday you were going on in the first place. And catterys cost even more. So why not borrow Marc, a self confessed tolerator of felines, to look after your cats whilst you are gone. There’s at least a 50% chance that he won’t try and feed them on lemons.

6. Empathy. At least one of the 7 Reasons boys is colour blind. At least one is married. If, like me, you are both colour blind and married you can really do with having someone to empathise with as your wife yet again complains that your shirt and trousers clash with one another. Borrow the 7 Reasons team and you have an instant set of shoulders (four, in fact) to cry on.

7. 7 Bespoke Reasons. You just know that the 7 Reasons team spend all day, every day, wandering around in a highly-developed comedic haze, every fibre twitching to find the source of the next 7 Reasons post. If you borrow one of them, you will find that it is your life that 7 Reasons becomes based upon. Which, frankly, is even better than writing 7 of them for yourself.

So there you have it. Well, almost. Due to the success of Thursday’s poll – which was won handsomely by “Fnuduhuh!” – we thought we’d give your fingers another chance to click on something. In line with today’s revelations, we are asking …

[poll id=”3″]

March 20, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons That American Football is Better Than Soccer

It’s the first weekend of the Six Nations, so who better to hand the 7 Reasons sofa to than blogger, occasional 7 Reasons guest poster and sports nut, Richard O’Hagan. And what more appropriate subject for him to write about than…oh…the Super Bowl? Which is also happening this weekend. Apparently.

It’s Super Bowl weekend. What do you mean you hadn’t noticed? How could you not notice? It’s the biggest single sporting event in the world. No other event makes an entire country grind to a halt like the first Sunday in February does in America. You want to know how special it is? It’s one of only three days in the year when Americans actually manage to eat MORE than usual – no matter how impossible that might be to imagine.

Yes, all over America, football fans will be doing their best Mr Creosote impressions, barbecuing as if their very lives depended upon it and convincing themselves that they have room for just one more giant pretzel, before settling down in front of the television for the sporting event of the year. Meanwhile, people like me attempt to stay awake until stupid o’clock in the morning, because despite all of the above the Yanks haven’t yet worked out that there are people elsewhere in the world who like to watch the game, too, so they start the game at somewhere near midnight UK time.

And why do I put myself through this every year? Simple. American Football knocks just about every winter game into, if not a cocked hat, then a football helmet. And that particularly includes what Americans call soccer, because:

1. Fat People Can Play This Game, Too. Come on, when was the last time you saw a fat guy playing what, to avoid confusion, we shall also call ‘soccer’? A really fat person, the sort of guy who would make the 1980s Jan Molby look anorexic. I’ll tell you. Never. Even William ‘Fatty’ Foulkes, the fattest man ever to play professional football, was only average size for an American footballer. It’s an all-inclusive sport, you see, and for some positions on the field being 300lb-plus is a minimum requirement. And it is not just being over 300lbs that counts, because every one of those guys can run 40 yards in less than 6 seconds, and most of them do it in close to 5. Go and try that for yourself. Most of you won’t even come close.

2. And The Players Are Educated, Too. There’s one unbreakable rule in American Football, and that’s the one that says that you can’t play it professionally unless you have been to university for at least three years. Proper university. No going to the Mail Order University of Chipping Sodbury. And no studying nonsense degrees such as ‘The History of Popular Music Since the Spice Girls’. There are guys playing football with degrees from Harvard, from Yale and all of the other elite US universities. Compare that to a sport where Frank Lampard is regarded as educated because he has more than one GCSE.

3. Cheerleaders. Yes, I know that some soccer clubs have tried this, but frankly they are rubbish and wouldn’t even make a high school cheerleading team in the States. Football teams have proper cheerleaders, most of whom have also gone to university to train as cheerleaders. When it comes to grinning inanely, clenching your butt cheeks and waving pom-poms, you have to say that football is the best.

4. Lingerie. Sepp Blatter famously wanted female soccer players to wear skimpier kits. Americans have already embraced that idea and the women’s football is played indoors in little more than lingerie and protective pads. Google ‘Lingerie League’ and you’ll see what I mean. You might think it wrong and you might think it demeaning, but it gets a heck of a lot more television than the women’s premier league does and pays better, too.

5. Adverts. One of the biggest whinges about Football is the number of ad breaks, but in fact you hardly notice them (and see reason number six anyway). But look at the players’ kit. Notice anything? Takes you back, doesn’t it? Back to the era before every soccer team sullied their shirts with advertising. Every kit is pure and unadulterated and you can wear your team’s shirt without in some way providing your own endorsement for some evil corporate monolith and their tax-dodgy, peasant-exploiting ways.

6. Beer. You can drink alcohol at football matches. In most stadia they even bring it to your seat. You can’t do that at a soccer match. And even if you don’t have in-seat service you still need something to do during the ad breaks, and what better to do than getting another beer?

7. Hardness. Every time I see a soccer player lying sobbing on the pitch because an opponent breathed on him, I reach for the sick bag. You want to see proper hard men, watch the US game. And do it without whinging about the helmets and padding, because that just proves that you don’t know why they are worn (the explanation is too long for here). Instead, think of someone like kicker Nate Kaeding, who in 2008 played three games without realising he had a broken leg. That’s ‘leg’, not ‘fingernail’, soccer fan.

So go on, give the game a try. Take Monday off work, stock up on pretzels, doughnuts and tasteless beer, and settle down for some American action. It’s better than football.

February 5, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons to Love Peppa Pig

It’s Saturday once more, and the 7 Reasons team are taking a day off to indulge their respective hobbies of eating tiramisu and…er…not eating tiramisu. Fear not though, for we leave you in capable hands. Strapping himself back into the 7 Reasons sofa, taking a firm grasp of the joystick and doing things that we don’t understand with flaps and ailerons is Richard O’Hagan: By day a mild-mannered lawyer, and by night a fearless writer, warrior, superhero and defender of owls (possibly). Here’s Richard.

I know what you are thinking – why is a grown man extolling the virtues of a TV show for the under-fives? Well, first of all, there’s the fact that it is one of the few kids shows that can be on in the background without raising my blood pressure to boiling point, just by being a steaming pile of old twaddle, such as In The Night Garden. Nor is it a complete rip-off of a fifty year old idea, like Chuggington. In fact, you can watch it as an adult and be far more entertained than you can watching any soap opera. There are many reasons for this, but here are just seven of them:

1. The Car Is Magic. Even better, the car is magic and no-one seems to realise it. Whichever way it is parked, the car is always facing the right way when it is next needed. And the steering wheel changes side according to which way the car is going. It is as if it has ESP. In fact, lots of things in this town have ESP. In another episode there is a campervan with an ESP satnav – you just tell it where you want to go and it takes you there. Adding ESP satnav to the magic car is the only thing that could improve it. It would also reduce the number of times that Daddy Pig gets lost.

2. Daddy Pig. Daddy Pig is some kind of idiot savant. He is guaranteed to be 100% wrong about everything. If you ever wanted to win the Lottery, just ask him to pick 42 numbers and you can guarantee that the winning seven will be the ones he didn’t choose. Similarly, if he claims to be an expert at anything, he won’t be. Curiously, he never claims to be an expert at civil engineering, which is his job – although on reflection this is probably a good thing.

3. Incest. How many other children’s shows deal with this? Yet where Peppa lives, there is only one of each species of animal. Either there is a huge amount of inbreeding or a lot of cross species experimentation (which would at least explain why the elephants are the same size as the cats). The only exception to this rule would seem to be Peppa and her brother George, who have cousins – which leads me to suspect that, despite the accents, the series may be set in Kentucky.

4. Madame Gazelle. Mme Gazelle is possibly the scariest children’s character ever. She is clearly some kind of witch, at the very least. She has taught everyone in the town, even the adults, without aging at all. She can play guitar equally well both right and left handed. She speaks with a Franco-Germanic accent and is, frankly, terrifying. I suspect she has a house with a very large and well-developed cellar.

5. Miss Rabbit. They say that men cannot multitask, but compared to Miss Rabbit no-one can. She sells ice cream, she runs the fire station, she mans the checkout at the supermarket and is in charge of the recycling depot. And that was just on Monday.

6. George Hates Peppa. Despite the facade of a very happy family unit, George actually hates his big sister. Every time he fantasises about something, it involves Peppa being eaten by a dinosaur. Frankly, after your three year old has watched every episode a hundred times, you will be having the same sort of thoughts

7. Serving Suggestion. And, at the end of the day, how many children’s characters tell you how to cook them?

The people behind Peppa Pig went on to make ‘Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom’, which is rubbish for at least another seven reasons.

October 16, 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