Tag: seven reasons

7 Reasons To Do Away With Curtains

1. Full Disclosure. All manner of weird and shameful things happen behind curtains: Line dancing; Nazism; geriatric transvestism; the viewing of ITV; this. All of those things are probably occurring on your street right now. If we did away with curtains we’d be forced to behave ourselves, which would be no bad thing.

2. Changing Rooms. Curtains in the changing rooms of clothes shops are a bad idea. It’s an oft quoted statistic that every year four people die in the UK while putting their trousers on. I haven’t died while dressing, but I’ve had a couple of trouser-hopping incidents myself – at home, fortunately. If this hasn’t happened to you, here’s how it works: You’re putting your trousers on, usually you’ve got one leg in, they’re at ankle height and you’re about to put your second leg in when you overbalance and start to fall sideways. Once you start falling sideways with one leg in your trousers, self preservation kicks-in and you instinctively hop in the direction that you are falling, to arrest your fall. But you are so overbalanced – and instinct keeps you hopping – that the only thing that will stop your sideways progress is a solid object (there’s no chance that you can stop by yourself). But curtains are not solid. This means that if a trouser-hopping incident occurred in a changing room, you might find yourself hopping right out of it. Who knows where you could end up? The changing room opposite? The men’s jeans section? Boots? Wherever you ended up, you’d probably feel a bit foolish. Perhaps people would point.

3. It’s Curtains. In films, you often hear the phrase “It’s curtains for you”. This is bad. Curtains = Death. Death = Bad ∴ Bad = Curtains*.

4. The World. In the opening monologue of Shakespeare’s As You Like It, Jaques declares that, “All the world’s a stage…”. If this is true, then according to the Home Office Manual of Safety Requirements in Theatres and Other Places of Public Entertainment (1934), all the world requires a curtain. An enormous curtain would block out the sun and would be prohibitively expensive. Not to mention difficult to wash.

5. The Kitchen. I don’t understand why people have curtains in their kitchens. They appear to be utterly without purpose, like the frosted glass windows in aeroplane toilets or the bins in Scarborough. I wonder if there’s something I’m missing. It’s the wrong room for sex. Are people being more secretive about family recipes than I am? What are they doing in there?**

6. Venetian Blinds. There’s a better technology available for obscuring windows; Venetian blinds. They’re more technologically advanced. They don’t require washing. They block out the light more effectively. Okay, so you can get your head stuck in them but, minor indignities aside, they’re so much better than curtains.

7. The Dream. I used to have a recurring dream when I lived in a shared house. In the dream I would walk downstairs in the morning and open the dining room curtains (the dining room overlooked the enclosed back garden). When I opened the curtains I would see, standing there motionless, staring straight back at me, Pierluigi Collina. Then I would wake up, usually in a cold sweat. I haven’t lived in a house with curtains since. It looked pretty much like this, in case you were wondering.

*Maths = A doddle.

** Do you have kitchen curtains? Do you get up to stuff behind them? Please let us know what you do via the comments section (anonymously if necessary).

April 23, 2010
7 Reasons That We Should Run F1

Formula One motor racing is great. Sometimes though, it’s not quite as good as it could be. We, the 7 Reasons team, have thought of a few improvements. Here are 7 Reasons that we should run F1.

1. Schumacher. The comeback isn’t going well and we know why. Ask yourself this: What looks like Michael Schumacher, sounds like Michael Schumacher and drives like Michael Winner? That’s right, Ralf Schumacher. There’s no way he’s good enough to get into F1 by himself; we think he’s pretending to be Michael. After all, he’s routinely being blown away by his team-mate, Nico Rosberg (who isn’t the best driver in his own family either), so it can only be Ralf. We would ban him.

2. The Godfather. At 7 Reasons, we’re film fans too. So when Luca Di Grassi’s name is mentioned, we always suffix it with the phrase, “…sleeps with the fishes.” We would make this compulsory for commentators.

3. Red Button. The red button is underutilised during F1 races. We have decided that the technology should be improved so that it can be used to filter out the incessant babbling and bleating of people in the same room as you that aren’t watching the Grand Prix. This will mean that you won’t have to hear “This is boring,” “…but Columbo’s on” or “Darling…Darling…Darling…Darling…Darling…Darling…Darling…Darling…Darling…Darling…Darling…you’re not listening.” You will, however, still hear anything relevant or important that they have to say, such as “Would you like anything from the shops?” “We’ve won the lottery,” or “The cat’s on fire.” There will also be a setting on the filter that will enable you to record and share anything particularly memorable such as, (during commentary on Timo Glock’s pit-stop) “O’Glock! What sort of a stupid name is that for a team?”

4. Illusion. The trompe-l’oeil advertising hoardings that are painted on the grass by the circuit are terrifying. On many occasions a car has left the track and we’ve braced ourselves for a horrendous crash – perhaps even gasped and covered our eyes – only to watch the car drive serenely over the painted surface and rejoin the track. They make us look like idiots. They are banned.

5. Court. During the most recent (the Chinese) Grand Prix, Sebastian Vettel and Lewis Hamilton came out of their pit boxes very close together and proceeded to bang wheels trying to gain an advantage in the pit lane; this was highly dangerous for the pit crews working there. Unbelievably, the incident wasn’t even investigated during the race – it was discussed in private later on. This is not acceptable. In the spirit of openness and fairness, we would introduce the Formula One Court (press the red button to see it) in which all racing incidents are thoroughly investigated and all punishments decided before the end of the race. A bewigged judge, with vast motor racing experience and age-imbued-wisdom – Sir Stirling Moss would be our choice – would preside over it. The teams would also have their own barristers:

“I put it to you M’lud, that Mr Vettel did knowingly and wilfully strike the side of Mr Hamilton’s car, recklessly endangering the safety of both drivers and several pit-lane-workers.”

“The Red Bull team refute that, M’lud. We contend that our driver was unaware of Mr Hamilton’s presence, and was proceeding along the pit lane in an orderly manner. If Mr Hamilton had been behind our client there would have been no problem. Look at exhibit B, M’lud: This telemetry data from the McLaren team confirms that their driver’s foot was fully on the throttle. The incident was caused because Mr Hamilton didn’t lift…”

“Lift! Lift!! Lift, you say? I find the defendant guilty. 10 years hard labour.”

6. Something we don’t understand. There’s a phalanx of identically dressed women that turn up to applaud the podium-placed finishers as they walk along a corridor or up the stairs. There is no earthly reason for this. It is weird. We would ban them.

7. Buemi. We all saw the incident in qualifying for the Chinese Grand Prix where both of Sébastien Buemi’s front wheels flew off simultaneously. This was unexpected, spectacular and generated huge amounts of pre-race publicity. We would make this a feature of every qualifying session by introducing Clown Car Lotto. From now on, during qualifying sessions, something that you might expect to happen to a clown’s car will happen to a randomly chosen F1 car. This could be one of a number of things: both of the wheels on one side of the car falling off, a custard pie fired from the steering wheel, balloons inflating from the air intake or marbles spewing from the exhausts. This new feature, though it will be familiar to both clowns and Toyota owners, should enliven qualifying sessions for the rest of the global audience.

April 22, 2010
7 Reasons To Wear Socks With Sandals

1. Keep Your Feet Clean. A fairly obvious one, but assuming you aren’t walking about in your bath, your feet are going to get dirty if not covered by sock fabric. Dirty feet mean dirty sandals. Dirty sandals mean a dirty mind. Not always a good thing.

2. You Want To Be Left Alone. If you need some me time – and by that I don’t mean Jonathan Lee time (although I am flattered) – socks and sandals is the way to go. It’s even better than buying a shed and locking yourself in it. Have you ever seen a woman holding the hand of a man in socks and sandals? Have you ever seen children shout ‘Daddy’ to a man in socks and sandals? Have you ever seen a chugger approach a man in socks and sandals? The answer to all these questions is no. That’s the difference a sock can make.

3. You’re Wearing Speedos. And possibly a handkerchief on your head. If you are wearing Speedos and a handkerchief on your head, the only thing that is going to make people look below your knees are socks with sandals. Unless you are actually wearing Speedos on your head, in which case you should remove one sock and position it elsewhere. Immediately. Which come to think of it is another reason for wearing socks in the first place.

4. They’re Not Your Socks. It is a sad indictment of today’s beach holiday, but people do steal socks. You maybe one of the sad indictments. If you are, then firstly, shame on you. Secondly, let me give you a tip. Putting the socks on – beneath your sandals – and it will make it look like you own them. No one is going to accuse you of sock stealing if you are wearing them. Or going through the wallet you also picked up.

5. Hide Your Feet From Podophobes. Podophobes are people with a fear of feet – and I assume iPods, pea pods, podcasts and anything that comes out from underneath Thunderbird 2. People who have a fear of things usually react in one of two ways. The first is that they run away screaming. The second is that they attack. The problem is you have two feet. One may make the podophobe run away, the other may make them massacre it. Really you want it one way or the other. Hopping is very tiring.

6. Avoid Pedicurists. Pedicurists are those strange people who like holding other people’s feet between their thighs. You can never spot them though. They hide too well. Usually as normal human beings. However, come the summer and they are attracted to uncovered feet like moths to the flame. Go out without your socks and you’ll be defending the state of your feet all day. (And why you thought violet was a good nail polish colour).

7. You Have Reached Old Age. As soon as you get to this age, wearing socks and sandals becomes acceptable. I am not sure what this age is – probably because I haven’t reached it yet – but you’ll know because it’ll arrive at the same time as you feel the need to have the heating on all year round and decide that £2.50 is still enough for your grandchild to buy an Easter Egg.*

*I do love my Grandparents, but seriously. I can’t even buy two Kinder Eggs for that.

April 20, 2010
7 Reasons To Be Self-Employed

1. It’s 00:00 to 23:59, not 9:00 to 17:00. You can choose when you work. If you want to work at 3am on a Sunday morning then that is fine. You answer to no one but yourself. Unless you live with your partner and your computer is in your bedroom. They probably don’t want to hear you bashing one out in the middle of the night. An email I mean.

2. Social Media. To a normal boss in a normal company, the likes of twittering and facebooking are seen as distractions. To the self-employed though, they are vital tools of the trade. All self-employed people have a streak of the entrepreneur about them. They are always on the look out for ideas. Which is why conversation about ‘imaginary friends’ on twitter is classed as research.

3. Sport. A whole lot of sport happens during the day. Cricket, tennis, golf, baseball, The Olympics (all forms), various World Cups and World Championships. That is a heck of a lot of sport you are missing while working for some major conglomerate. Or the Co-Op. Not only do the self-employed watch all this sport, they all use it to their advantage. Watching Stuart Broad knock over Ricky Ponting’s poles doesn’t half motivate you. Okay, it motivates you to keep watching, but when the day’s play is over, then you are pumped to do some work. Or you will be after dinner. And the highlights. Actually, you’ll be ready at the end of the Test. But you will be ready. Just a shame the deadline has passed really.

4. Chores. They can be done at anytime you like. Cleaning the bathroom can be Monday at 10am. Food shopping can be Tuesday at 2pm. Having your haircut can be Wednesday at 11am. And if you are really lucky you’ll get the OAP rate.

5. The IT Department. Everyone in IT is a muppet. It’s official. They think you should know what SMPT means and how to locate the back-gate entrance for Microsoft Outlook. No one knows that stuff. I don’t even think there is a back-gate entrance for Microsoft Outlook. I think he was trying to make himself sound clever. The thing about working for yourself is that if something goes wrong you don’t have to phone someone up to ask them how to fix it. You can press reset and blow all the dust away from the back of the PC. And more times than not it works. Within minutes you are flying through the front door of Microsoft Outlook. In your face Sam in IT.

6. Tea-bags. You don’t have to share them and no one is going to steal them. They are yours. You can also have the brand and flavour you want. None of this value stuff, you can have proper tea from a proper tea plantation. Imported directly to you if you like. I get mine from Sainsburys.

7. Your Fee. It can be what you want it to be. If you want to charge £300 an hour, you can. You won’t get much work unless you are Pete Doherty’s solicitor, but that’s irrelevant. You can go around saying, ‘I charge £300 an hour’. Though when you end up working in the local pub you should probably stop. It makes you sound like a prat.

April 19, 2010
Guest Post: 7 Reasons You’re Not Watching The IPL

Taking over the good ship sofa 7 Reasons today, is student and Muse fanatic Rob. A. Foot. (No we’re not sure what the ‘A’ stands for either). When Rob isn’t reading 7 Reasons or arguing about politics with an angry Scotsman on twitter, he can be found blogging away at There Is Music In The Breakdown. Oh, and judging by what’s coming next, sticking pins in his Lalit Modi voodoo doll.

1. Duration Of Matches. It just isn’t long enough. 120 balls per innings? That’s not even long enough to get yourself in before compiling a decent innings! It is also nowhere near enough time to get all of the batting side out. Before you know it, you’ve just batted yourself in, and then you’re being told that the innings is over? Ludicrous! The whole game is over and done with in just a few hours. How are you meant to while away a day that’s meant to be spent writing an essay/revising/doing work by listening to Jonathan Agnew and Geoffrey Boycott bicker about how someone’s relative could have hit the ball with a piece of fruit?

2. Vulgarity. First of all, the team strips. They are ridiculous. The Mumbai Indians strip looks like it has little cymbals lining the hems along the shoulders. The Chennai Super Kings’ kit looks the colour of a banana, and the Royal Bangalore Challengers kit looks like someone has dumped it in tomato sauce. Then there’s the music that plays at every boundary/wicket/ball/scratching of noses. And then there’s the cheerleaders. Why are they necessary? Isn’t there anything more exciting than seeing a highly rated batsman playing and missing at a ball which fizzes by his off-stump? Cheerleaders have nothing on that.

3. Money. Most of the foreign players are only there for the money. When you see someone getting auctioned off for several million dollars, you get the impression that it is just cattle being sold, not cricket players. Then you see that they are getting lots of money for the privilege of playing cricket in a hot country when their homelands are freezing cold. You begin to question their morals. Cricket players should have standards. They aren’t footballers.

4. The advertisements. If you have the misfortune to watch the cricket on YouTube, then you will quickly become familiar with the adverts. All two of them. The first, an advert for a hair styling cream, is innocuous enough, with only mildly annoying music accompanying it. The second really gets my goat. An advert for a phone company, with annoying music and a painfully annoying voiceover. Then you end up putting the computer on mute until the advert finishes. But then you do something else, and by the time that you go back to it, it’s that bloody advert again. The other alternative is to watch it on ITV. With that woman staring at you.

5. The Tactics. Or lack of them. All the captain of the fielding side needs to say is: “Right, Dale, bowl at the stumps early in the innings, then as wide as the umpire will allow later” and he’s done with it. Yes, he can move his fielders around to try and catch a batsman out, but then again, most of the catches made by fielders are just for miscued smashes which balloon high into the air before being smothered by the wicketkeeper or the long-on fielder. The batsman’s mentality, by the way, is just to smash every ball as far as he can.

6. The Umpires. The players aren’t the only people to see this slogfest as a way of going over the top; the umpires want in on the game too. As the batsmen play more extravagant shots, the umpires find more extravagant ways of signalling that these shots have been rewarded. Instead of just raising the finger (index) at a decent speed when someone is given out, it takes an age for it to be raised. Instead of standing still whilst waving the arm sedately when signalling for four runs, the umpires now appear to be helicopters about to take off. Then with the six signalling, instead of raising the hands, the umpires now appear to be attempting to break the high jump world record. Alright, I’ll admit it. All of the previous points have related to Billy Bowden.

7. You Don’t Like Cricket. I’m sure that this will cover the vast majority of people who haven’t been watching the IPL this season. Does it need explaining?

April 17, 2010
7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Display Too Much Cleavage

At 7 Reasons, we’re not experts on everything we write about. Today, however, is an exception. Who better to write about cleavage than a man? After all, we think about breasts a lot. This can only go well.

1. Temperature. Women are often at the wrong temperature. They’re usually either too hot or too cold. Chivalry isn’t dead, however, and if a man sees a woman that looks chilly, he’ll say something like, “You look cold. Would you like to wear my jumper?” If you’re displaying too much cleavage though, a man might realise that you’re cold when your overexposed décolletage comes out in goose-pimples. This is bad. When you deny being cold (you always do), what is he to do? Point out the evidence? I’m not an expert on tact, but I can’t help thinking that, “You are cold, there are goose-pimples on your breasts” would be an unwise statement to make, and may well cause drink-throwage.

2. Distraction. Often women that display too much cleavage do so because they feel that it will distract attention from other features that they are less proud of. This does not work. Men, though easily distracted by breasts, will not fail to notice if you have a big bottom. Not that you do, obviously. It’s probably twice as big in your mind as it is in actuality. This does not mean that I think you have a big head, by the way.

3. The Human Race May Die Out. Too much cleavage can ruin your love life. To illustrate this, we’re going to go on a date. Well, two dates. Both first dates. We’re going out for dinner. I haven’t been on a date since years began with the number one, but I’m pretty sure I remember how. If you’re not a woman, you will need to imagine that you are one for this. Try to imagine that you’re one without hairy arms.

Date 1

You arrive at the restaurant. I’m already there, seated at a table (at least I can be punctual in my own head). You remove your coat. You are wearing a top which displays a moderate amount of cleavage. Having removed your coat, you glance upward and see me at the table, we make eye contact, I smile and give you a subtle wave of greeting. You walk over to the table, I stand up, you had forgotten how tall I am – no matter – we embrace and I kiss you on the cheek. Seated now, we make light and pleasurable conversation. You’re having a good time in my company. You think I’m very funny and the conversation flows freely. You laugh a lot. You love my expressive eyes. You like that I smile so easily. You can tell that I’m really listening to what you’re saying. I’m thinking about your breasts (I can multi-task too).

We order the food. For starters we order tiramisu, followed by a main course of tiramisu and a dessert of tiramisu (it’s an imaginary date, I like tiramisu. Don’t worry, it won’t go straight to your imaginary thighs). We hand our menus back to the waiter. You’re certain that you’re falling in love with me. You believe that I’m a hopeless romantic. You wonder if I style my hair with clay or wax.

The evening ends well. Taking your hand in mine, I walk you back to the gate of your lighthouse (I like girls with lighthouses). We enjoy a long, languorous kiss and say goodnight (this is a first date, remember). You turn away. You are besotted. I stare at your bottom as you walk up the garden path.

Date 2

You arrive at the restaurant. I’m already there, seated at a table (that’s twice I’ve been on time for something now. Hurrah!). You remove your coat. You are wearing a top which displays an immoderate amount of cleavage. Having removed your coat, you glance upward and see me at the table. I stare at your chest. I forget to smile and fail to give you a subtle wave of greeting. You walk over to the table, I stand up, you had forgotten how tall I am – oops – we embrace and I gaze down your top. Seated now, I realise that I’m staring at your breasts. I become flustered. I resolve not to look directly at them, to maintain eye-contact with you at all costs, but they’re there, staring back at me. They are the elephants in the room; lustrous, shapely, lovely elephants. I can’t stop thinking about them. I don’t want to, but it’s hard not to look at them. I redden. I develop a stammer you never noticed before. I begin to sweat profusely. I’m certain that you must know I’m thinking about them. We make terse and fragmented conversation. You’re not having a good time in my company. You wonder if I’m having a funny-turn. My perspiration flows freely. You don’t laugh at my jokes. You hate my bulgy, anxious eyes. You hate that I smile so sleazily. You can tell that I’m not really listening to what you’re saying. I’m trying to think about something – anything – other than your breasts (it turns out I can’t multi-task).

We order the food. For starters we order tiramisu, followed by a main course of tiramisu and a dessert of tiramisu (it’s a nightmare date, he’s clearly insane, what’s with all the tiramisu? Just look at his mad, staring eyes!). You hand your menu back to the waiter. I keep mine to shield my eyes from your chest. You’re certain that you’re a bit afraid of me. You believe that I’m a hopeless neurotic. You wonder if I murder with a knife or an axe.

The evening ends badly. You go to the toilet and call a friend. You arrange for her to ring you back five minutes later. You answer the phone back at the table. You tell me there’s an emergency at your lighthouse, you have to rush away. We endure a brief, clammy handshake and say goodbye. You turn away. You are relieved. I stare at your bottom as you walk out of my life forever.

4. Engineering. When Howard Hughes developed the under-wired bra for Jane Russell to best display her assets in The Outlaw he did something wonderful. But take note, the bit at the bottom is called under-wire. It shouldn’t be visible. If a man can see any part of the structural element of the bra, his thoughts will turn to engineering and you may find yourself involved in a conversation about the load-bearing capacity of flying buttresses or the hyperbolic cosine of the catenary or some-such nonsense.

5. Indecent Exposure. I realised that I needed to illustrate just how much cleavage is too much, but I had a problem. I’m a man. I have no breasts. I was alone in the house except for the cat (a brief examination revealed that he too, has no breasts). I required a woman for the purpose of demonstration. I couldn’t draw one, I’m hopeless at that, but I had an idea. I decided to do what no man left alone in the house has ever done before; I searched Google Images for breasts. After some time (approximately nine hours) I still hadn’t found the image that I was looking for – in fact, I’d totally forgotten why I was looking – and had to abandon the search. The cat was hungry, and I went down to the kitchen to feed him. It was there that I realised that I could illustrate my point using props. My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, 7 Reasons.org are proud to present:

The 7 Reasons Pictorial Guide To The Correct Amount Of Cleavage (Using Two Bottles Of Sparkling Water And A Tea Towel).

There, I hope that’s clear. If you bear this guide in mind when dressing, you won’t go too far wrong in most countries. In summary: If people can see any part of your bottle tops – or the plastic ring beneath – you’re showing too much cleavage and it could cause offence. This does not apply to anyone engaged in the act of breast-feeding; those women are giving food to children for fucks sake – Daily Mail readers take note.

6. Men. If you are a man, you shouldn’t even have cleavage, let alone display it. Go to the gym!

7. Because of a lack of preparation. Men are generally taller than women. The average height of a man in the UK is 5’10”, while the average height of a woman is 5’4”. Also, eyes are higher up than breasts. This means, while dressing, a woman needs to be aware that half of the population’s view of her cleavage will be from at least eighteen inches above it. It’s not enough just to look in the mirror to check whether you’re displaying too much. You need to look in the mirror while standing on a chair.

April 16, 2010
7 Reasons You Should Build A Castle

1. The Portcullis. So much better than shutting the door on an annoying visitor. A portcullis will make sure they definitely do not come back. Providing you get the timing exactly right that is. If you don’t, they may come back with an arm hanging off.

2. The Moat. A morning swim is a popular pursuit. It gets people ready for the day and keeps them fit. Unfortunately, most people don’t get the full benefit of the exercise because whilst doing laps in the local pool they cut corners. You can’t cut corners in a moat. If you try to, you’ll smash your head open. Very few people think this is a good idea. Hopefully you are not one of them. A few laps of your castle moat in the morning and you’ll be ready to take on the world. Wet, knackered and covered in piranha bites. Sorted.

3. The Keep. I don’t know about you, but I seem to have a lot of stuff. And most of the time I don’t know where to keep it. I rather suspect a Keep will do the job nicely.

4. End The Norman Monopoly. The Normans built most of our castles apparently. I am not sure who The Normans were – I imagine a cross between The Nolan Sisters and The Osmonds – but whoever they were, they have monopolised the trade. You can’t move for Norman castles in this country. Other people need to start building castles to bring down this evil empire. People called Jonathan or Marc or Mark. Whatever your name is, go and build a castle. Unless it’s Norman. In which case run. Run very fast.

5. Earn While You Live. The great thing about castles is that they are tourist attractions. They attract millions of visitors every year. And – providing they don’t know a back entrance into the grounds – they’ll have to pay for the privilege. What better way to earn a bit of extra money when you are out at work? And just in case you are worried about people stealing stuff, don’t be. Just put a nice looking rope in front of your dining table and a sign saying ‘Do Not Touch’. You’ll be amazed how effective it is.

6. Cleaning Bills. Proper castles didn’t have carpets. Or curtains. Or windows. Probably because the cleaning bill would have been extortionate. Do the same and all the money that you have saved can be put towards a new bailey. Or a trebuchet.

7. I’m The King Of The Castle, You’re A Dirty Rascal. For the first time in history, a nursery rhyme will actually have meaning. You used to have to stand on top of the climbing frame to say this little cracker, now you can stand atop a turret and shout it down to whoever walks along your drawbridge. Until you get the postman you want that is.

April 15, 2010
7 Reasons You Shouldn’t Play FarmVille

If you use the social networking site Facebook, you’ll doubtless be familiar with FarmVille, the most successful Facebook game there is. Here are seven reasons that you shouldn’t play it.

1. Imagination. When you’re playing FarmVille, you’re pretending that you’re a farmer. Farming is not exciting. It’s essentially portly, ruddy-faced people and mud, or portly, ruddy-faced people and blood, depending on which type of farming it is. If you’re going to pretend to be something, pretend to be something interesting; a pirate, an astronaut, a mermaid, a flying horse, a rock star, an oculus, an aardvark, a many-headed warrior-beast, the Archbishop of Canterbury…anything, it’s all better than pretending you’re a farmer.

2. Spam. Your friends want to log onto Facebook without being inundated with updates on the progress of your pretend farm. Tell us about something that does exist instead. How are your children? How is your husband? How is your pet? Step away from the “farm” for a moment and check that they’re all still there and in good health, then tell us about it. Perform a head-count if you need to.

3. Reality. Instead of pretending to grow vegetables on your computer, why don’t you actually grow some vegetables? It’s not difficult. All you need are some seeds and some mud. Just weed and water them occasionally (this takes less time than tending your suppositious crops) and eventually you’ll be able to pull them up and eat them. You can’t eat your computer can you? No, no matter how much the rest of us wish you would.

4. It’s not sociable. My Facebook friends that play FarmVille assist each other on their imaginary farms that don’t exist. I know this from my news feed. Yet these people don’t come and help out in my garden, which is real. I grow real things there (badly). If you came to help me grow my real plants, I’d share them with you and ply you with beer. This is how people really interact and bond. When FarmVille tells the world, via Facebook, that “David helped Rachel harvest her plums”, you haven’t really interacted with each other – unless it’s a euphemism, in which case, well done David, I never knew you had it in you.

5. Swastika. Okay, I’m not going to pretend that I don’t find it funny, but it obviously took a lot of time and effort to grow your swastika. That’s time you could have spent being a real Nazi, goose-stepping about in a fetching uniform, annexing the Sudetenland and shouting things in German…or not, no, that’s a bad idea. You could surely have done something better with that time though: Read a book; go for a walk; climb a mountain – no – climb every mountain; ford every stream; follow every rainbow; till you find your dream. Or perhaps do something unrelated to The Sound of Music, your choice.

6. Grow up. This may come as a blow to some of the 7 Reasons team, but it’s not socially acceptable to have an imaginary friend after the age of nine. So why is it deemed acceptable to have an imaginary farm? A farm is bigger than a friend – unless your friend is American – so surely it’s a bigger no-no?

7. AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH! It’s come to this: I’m actually writing about real people growing imaginary plants and tending non-existent animals on their pretend farms which only exist in cyberspace, and you’re reading what I’ve written about actual people cultivating fabricated crops and make-believe livestock on fictitious farms which aren’t real. What has become of us? Death to FarmVille! Stupid bloody fucking FarmVille.

April 14, 2010
7 Reasons That Time Zones Are Confusing

The way we measure and calculate time is a wholly abstract construct that is often difficult to grasp. And then, when we split it into zones – that are also abstract – it becomes very confusing indeed. Here are seven reasons why.

1. South Africa. I’m not a geographical expert, but I have rough grasp of the map of the world and how it relates to me. I’m in England; I know that South Africa is approximately 5,500 miles away from me. I also know that France is 21 miles away from England. But it’s exactly the same time in France right now as it is in South Africa. This means that when it’s lunchtime in Cape Town, it’s lunchtime in Paris, and when it’s teatime in Cape Town, it’s lunchtime in Paris. But they’re so far away from each other!

2. The Moon. The moon has a time zone of its own, Lunar Standard Time. Today’s date on the moon is 42-12-21. So if I go to the moon, I’ll probably need a separate moon calendar, and perhaps a moon watch, though I’m not certain about that. What I do know is that the time (and date) on the moon bear no relation to the time and date on Earth, or even in Paris, where it’s still lunchtime.

3. The North Pole. There isn’t a time at the North Pole. The moon has a time, but the North Pole doesn’t. The reason the North Pole doesn’t have a time zone is because there’s no permanent human presence at the North Pole – which makes me wonder if there’s something that we’re not being told about the moon? If you go to the North Pole, you can just choose (arbitrarily) to be in whichever time zone you like. This means that you can be in a totally different time zone to the person standing next to you and the same time zone as someone standing inside Starbucks in Croydon. Or Johannesburg. Or any Starbucks you like.

4. The South Pole. The South Pole is on New Zealand time, despite being a long way from it. This is because most of the things that the polar bases consume are imported from New Zealand. But in Britain, most of the goods we consume come from China, though we’re not on Chinese time (yet). This is good as their next New Year is in February, and my New Year guests arrive in December, and there’s only so much of me they can take.

The International Date Line

5. The International Date Line. You may have already noticed that it’s not straight. This means that if you travel sort of North-Eastish, by sea, from New Zealand, the date may change several times on the way. The date line isn’t a time zone though, so when the date changes, the time doesn’t. So you know it’s 2pm, because that’s what your watch tells you, but you don’t know if it’s today, yesterday, tomorrow or Thursday – which must make arranging shipboard entertainments damn nigh impossible. And what if one of the days is your birthday? If you’ve worked on a sort of North-Eastish-sailing ship from New Zealand for a few years, you could end up having your fifty-ninth birthday at the age of twenty-seven. And then your presents would be inappropriate. What twenty-seven year old wants a subscription to the Radio Times and a pair of Totes Toasties for their birthday?

6. Trains. The Indian Pacific train in Australia has its own time zone. On its journey between Kalgoorlie and Kalgoorlie the time on the train bears absolutely no relation to the time zone that the train is in. This is because it crosses several time zones (including a weird one that changes in half hour increments). I find this confusing, but compared to British trains – which also seem to operate in their own time zone, one that bears no relation to either the time outside the train or the published timetable – it seems quite straightforward.

7. Greenwich. Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) is the time zone of zero degrees longitude. Greenwich is in London. London switches to Summer Time (BST) during the summer months. This means that London is an hour ahead of Greenwich in the summer. But, as Greenwich is in London, Greenwich is also an hour ahead of itself. This makes my head hurt. But if anyone can think of a way in which I can exploit this to plan a heist or win the lottery, please let me know.

April 12, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: Promoting Brown

The 1960s: clothes, interiors, fabrics, art – just about everything – were a riot of colour. This wasn’t much help to the (predominantly British) manufacturers of brown dyes and paints though, which was problematic, as during that decade their production continued apace. The result was, that by the 1970s, Britain had a huge surplus of brown colourants and needed to find a market for them to help with the balance of payments. This led to the formation – in 1971 – of the Brown Marketing Board, a government funded organisation devoted to the task of promoting the use of the colour brown by manufacturers and consumers alike.

While researching 1970s advertising, we came across many fine pieces of work by the Brown Marketing Board and today, we thought we’d share a few of them with you.

1. Swatch. A very simple poster, placed on the London Underground, on bus shelters and other street-level sites where people congregated. It was purely placed there as a brown colour swatch, the idea being that anyone standing near it would appear uncoordinated if they weren’t dressed in brown. Sales of brown coats to London commuters soared, thus proving that the simplest ideas are often the best.

2. Germans Eat White Chocolate. By the 1970s, Britons had still not gotten over the war, as this poster designed to promote the consumption of brown chocolate demonstrates.

3. If Only The Carpets And Curtains Matched. A poster used to encourage the use of brown in all areas of interior design. Looking back at pictures from the 70s, it seems that this campaign must have been a success.

4. Brown Bears Don’t Kill Seals. We’re fairly certain that they weren’t encouraging people to divest themselves of their pet polar bears in favour of brown bears. We think that this was probably just an attempt to promote brown as having generally “good” qualities. Sales of Fox’s Glacier Mints plummeted as a result of this controversial image though, and it was soon withdrawn.

5. Arrive In Style. What can we say? It’s a brown Austin Allegro. Perhaps this image contains a powerful subliminal message, because British Leyland sold loads of them. No one knows how. Maybe it was this advert.

6. Also Available In Brown. A very clever poster designed to increase the consumption of domestic produce in two ways. Firstly, using brown sauce instead of ketchup would help the sales of brown food dye. Secondly, it reminds us that brown sauce is a British tradition – after all, the H.P. in H.P. Sauce stands for Houses of Parliament – so the increased use of brown sauce would directly benefit British manufacturing interests.

7. Score In Style. Well, you wouldn’t want to win ugly, would you?

April 11, 2010