1. Brown. The thaw is brown. Everything is muddy, slushy and brown. The grit that was scattered onto the snowy roads and pavements and is now visible, is brown. The river is brown. The bare trees are brown, the uncovered grass is brown, Gordon is Brown. Nothing good is brown (except beverages and beverage based desserts, obviously).
2. Slush. When the snow is on the ground it’s a pure, blank canvas which will be affected in an obvious way by whatever is on top of it. When it melts, however, it’s just a brown, wet slushy mass. We all know what’s in yellow snow, but we’re not sure what’s in all those brown slushy puddles. What is it? It could be anything. It’s slush, but it’s not blue and doesn’t taste of cherry, which is a big disappointment.
3. Snowmen. The streets are full of dying snowmen. Is there anything sadder than that? They are like urban, wintery versions of Ozymandias, whose power and grandeur and gilded age has passed into ruination and decay. Soon they will be a distant memory as they assume the form of an old, discarded hat and some twigs scattered on the ground. My neighbour’s snow-penis is also looking distinctly unimpressive at the moment. Perhaps I should forward to him some of the many emails I receive offering me Viagra.
4. Nice. The snow is a special time. With the passing of the snow the nicety will go. When you encounter a neighbour walking down your snow-covered street in a blizzard you generally smile at each other, glance skyward and tut. When you encounter police with their riot shields out in the snow they’re using them for sledging.
With the thaw, when you bump into your neighbours, they will scowl at you as usual, or worse, they will converse with you. When you encounter police with their riot shields out they will beat you to death as usual, or worse, they will usher you into the Ricoh Arena.
5. Balls. When the snow goes, the local ne’er-do-wells will be unable to pelt cars, buses and cyclists with snowballs containing rocks. They will, instead, pelt cars, buses and cyclists with rocks. Not only will this cause more damage, but it will rob passers-by of the strange spectacle of a bunch of youths with their tracksuit-bottoms tucked into their white socks, apparently floating eight inches above the ground while assaulting the traffic.
6. Sledging. When the snow is gone sledging is difficult, if not impossible.
7. Disruption. Disruption to services is forgivable in the snow as, well, it’s the snow! Everything is good in the snow. Now that the snow is thawing, however, disruption to services is annoying and unforgiveable. Especially these bins that have been blocking this path for a week. Expect to see this picture again in 7 Reasons my Neighbours Should be put to Death. Idiots.
1. You’re A Superhero. This only applies to people called Clark, Peter or Jonathan, but even so. It is fully acceptable to pull red pants over your blue lycra body suit in a phone box, providing you have one of these names and are in some way associated with a newspaper. You could be a journalist, a photographer or pick up a copy of the Evening Standard on the way home each day.
2. You Need Shelter. Rain. Snow. Hail. Nuclear Bomb. Get in a phone box and wait until it has passed. If you are in flip-flops make sure you watch out for the syringes.
3. You’re Foreign. If there is one thing you need to do as a visitor to Great Britain it is to have your photo taken next to or in one of our red phone boxes. I am not sure why you have a such a fascination with them, they pretty much do the same job as a grey phone box, but I am not going to stand in your way. Most of the people in this country have moved onto mobile phones these days so it is nice to see someone using them.
4. You Need To Promote Your Business. Phone boxes are perfect if you want to stick up a flyer or business card. The main advantage of using a phone box is that it’s free, the disadvantage is that you will have a lot of competition. The best way of standing out from the crowd is to reduce your ridiculously high hourly rates.
5. You Don’t Own A Mobile. This may sound obvious, but I have lost count of the number of times someone has walked up to me and said, “Sorry mate, I have forgotten my phone. Can I borrow yours for a minute?” Don’t ask me for my phone. The chances are you are going to run off with it. Go and try and steal a phone box instead. And make sure you bend your knees. They are bloody heavy.
6. You Are Embarrassed To Make That Call At Home. I speak from personal experience here. When I was younger I used to ask girls out with frightening regularity. Not because I was very, very horny, but because the vast majority rejected me so I just had to move on to the next one. The idea of asking a girl out in earshot of my parents terrified me though, so I used to walk down to the local phone box with 10p in my hand (yes, it was that long ago) and then spend twenty minutes building up the courage to call my latest crush. Two minutes later I walked home poorer and heartbroken.
7. You Need To Get Your Hat Back. It’s such a bore when you are walking along the road and suddenly someone flies by, grabs your hat and chucks it atop the nearest phone box. Five minutes later the Police have pulled up and are asking you to get down from its roof. This also applies to bus stops.
1. Timing. Five years ago, when he told a Congressional committee that he “hadn’t come to talk about the past”, before refusing to discuss his own drug use, Mark McGwire had nothing to gain by discussing it. Now though, with accusations and witness testimonies about his drug use mounting – his own brother’s even – Mark McGwire does have something to gain from admitting his drug use. The Cardinals couldn’t employ a batting coach who was still lying about his drug use – that would taint their current playing squad with suspicion. It is only by finally admitting his deception that McGwire can hope to remain in employment. His admission is not contrition, it is not an attempt to seek redemption, it is both cynical and self serving.
2. Mistake. Mark McGwire stated in his interview with Bob Costas that his persistent steroid use was a “mistake”. That’s really the wrong word to use. Pressing the wrong button on your computer and sending an email before you’ve finished writing it is a mistake. Forgetting to thank your host at a dinner party is a mistake. Persistent use of illegal performance enhancing drugs over the course of several years to gain sporting and pecuniary advantage is not a mistake. A better word to describe his use of steroids would be “cheating”, or “abomination”, “deception”, “fraud”, “charlatanism”, “bilking”, “duplicitous”, “shameful”, “treacherous”, “crooked”, “dishonest”, “swindling”… I could go on. Seriously, I could come up with hundreds of words to describe his conduct, all of them more appropriate than “mistake”. I could do it without recourse to performance enhancing drugs too. I could probably manage it on nothing more powerful than a couple of cups of coffee.
3. Dismissive. McGwire also attempts to downplay his steroid use. He replied “Absolutely” when asked if he could have hit over 70 runs in a season without them. Really? Why go to the trouble of taking them then? Why risk being unmasked as a cheat by the authorities? Why endanger your health by taking them? Of course Mark McGwire couldn’t have hit 70 home runs in a season without them. If he could have, he wouldn’t have resorted to using them.
McGwire is trying to tell us is that his drug use had no effect on his ability to hit the ball. This is laughable when consider the extra strength and power that its users of human growth hormone are able to generate.
Let’s put that to one side though, McGwire states that he took illegal drugs to get him through injuries, which means that without them, his ability to get through the scrapes and knocks of professional baseball would have been diminished. Can you hit 70 home runs in a season when you spend a reasonable amount of it on the DL? Of course you can’t. Mark McGwire gained a large advantage as a result of the use of steroids, and if his admission had been made for the right reasons, he would have been honest enough to admit it. He cheated then, and he’s lying now.
4. Hall of Fame. One of the possible reasons McGwire won’t admit that taking performance-enhancing-drugs enhanced his performance is the Baseball Hall of Fame. Perhaps he still harbours some ambition to be elected into it. If he admitted that his cheating affected his home run statistics he would surely diminish his chances even further, as he certainly doesn’t deserve to be there as a result of his fielding performances, his base-running or his batting average, which were nothing special. His only hope is that his home run achievements will get him elected . Mark McGwire is a cheat and it would be a disgrace if he were elected to the Hall of Fame. He should be only be accepted into the Baseball Hall of Fame if Milli Vanilli are elected into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, Joseph Stalin is canonised and Heather Mills is given a Knighthood.
5. Money. The astonishing thing is that McGwire stands to gain financially from admitting his drug use – however grudging and duplicitous his admissions have been. Here is a man who cheated at his sport and made hundreds of millions of dollars in salaries, bonuses and endorsements as a result of that. He stands to keep his job with the Cardinals as a result of his admission, he’ll probably write a tell-all book – with all of the publishing advances and serialisation fees that come with that – and he’ll probably turn up crying on Oprah. What he definitely won’t be doing is paying back the money he gained by cheating. What of his opponents who didn’t take drugs and were out-performed by McGwire and his team? Will McGwire reimburse them for their lost win-bonuses? Will he reimburse companies he endorsed, whose reputation now stands to be tainted as a result of his admission? Will he reimburse the baseball fans who went to see a fair contest – this is a sport, remember – and didn’t see one? Of course he won’t. It is as likely as Simon Cowell saying something nice or doing something worthy.
6. Reaction. It’s not just McGwire’s conduct that has been shameful. Most of the reaction I’ve read and heard has been right-minded and fair. This is understandable, McGwire’s steroid use doesn’t come as a surprise in a sport that’s been so tainted by drug abuse, but it would be nice if comment on it were a little less calm and rational. It may be something that we’ve all come to expect but that doesn’t mean that we should accept it so readily. The most outraged commentator I have read about this is me. I’m furious! I don’t understand how a man can cynically admit to defrauding the sporting public and sully the reputation of the wonderful game of baseball and generate so little vitriol from commentators. If a similar situation had occurred in English football, the media would be leading mobs with torches and pitchforks to his door and nobody would condemn them for it. As for the reaction of Bobby Knight, I can only assume that he is Gatorade-addled. Bobby Knight; you sir, are an idiot.
7. * Once again, this admission brings back the spectre of statistics. When Benjamin Disraeli spoke of “Lies, damned lies and statistics”, he couldn’t have even begun to imagine the mess that baseball statistics are in. What do you do with McGwire’s records? They were obtained illegally, by cheating. What do you say to an honest player who scores 69 home runs in a season? That they’re the third best of all time? Statistically that’s what this honest player would be – that’s what the records would show – but we all know that McGwire scored 70 home runs in a season by cheating. Is it even enough to put an asterisk next to his scores? I believe they should be removed from the record book altogether. If his scores remain, McGwire wasn’t just cheating baseball then, he’s cheating baseball now. What incentive is there for honest athletes to give their all in a sport where cheats continue to prosper in its recorded history?
I would like to apologise to regular 7 Reasons readers. We are supposed to be a humour-based website and I feel I haven’t been very funny here, but I find it very hard find any humour in this sordid and repugnant affair. I love baseball and I feel cheated.
We’re going wild and breaking out of the format today. This post was brought to our attention by Brad B. Wood of our favourite indie band, Merchandise.
Since this piece was written, society has progressed and become more sophisticated, and we now know that 7 is the correct number of reasons. But, while it doesn’t contain the right number of reasons, we can’t really ask the writer to make any changes as he’s been dead for 220 years. Pick your least favourite reason and forget you saw it.
Today’s guest post comes from author, printer, satirist, political theorist, politician, scientist, inventor, civic activist, statesman, soldier, diplomat, sixth President of the Supreme Executive Council of Pennsylvania, twenty-third Speaker of the Pennsylvania Assembly, United States Minister to France, United States Minister to Sweden and First United States Postmaster General, Benjamin Franklin. We don’t know how he found time to research this, but we’re glad he did.
1. Because as they have more knowledge of the world and their minds are better stored with observations, their conversation is more improving and more lastingly agreeable.
2. Because when women cease to be handsome, they study to be good. To maintain their influence over men, they supply the diminution of beauty by an arguement of utility. They learn to do 1000 services small and great, and are the most tender and useful of all friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable. And hence there is hardly such a thing as an old woman who is not a good woman.
3. Because there is no hazard of children, which irregularly produced may be attended with much inconvenience.
4. Because the more experience, they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an intrigue to prevent suspicion. The commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your reputation. And with regard to theirs, if the affair should happen to be known, considerate people might be inclined to excuse an old woman who would kindly take care of a young man, form his manners by her good counsels, and prevent his ruining his health and fortune among mercenary prostitutes.
5. Because every animal that walks upright, the deficiency of the fluids that fills the muscles appears first in the highest part. The face grows lank and wrinkled, then the neck, the the breast and arms, the lower parts continuing to the last as plump as ever. So that covering all above with a basket, and regarding only what is below the girdle, it is impossible of two woman to know an old one from a young one. And as in the dark all cats are grey, the pleasure of corporal enjoyment with an old woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every knack being by practice capable of improvement.
6. Because the sin is less. The debauching a virgin may be her ruin, and make her for life unhappy.
7. Because compunction is less. The having made a young girl miserable may give you frequent bitter reflections, none of which can attend making an old woman happy.
1. Transport. There are a lot of cars where I live – that’s on Earth. Whenever I am in a car I always end up getting stuck. A journey that should take ten minutes, invariably takes twelve. Half the time I think it would be quicker to walk. The other half I think it would be quicker to hover. On both occasions I am right. Walking, though, tends to be a bit boring and I blister easily. I wouldn’t get blisters hovering though and I certainly wouldn’t get bored. Weaving in and out and over cars. I imagine the adrenaline rush to be something like sky-diving with a handkerchief.
2. Evolution. The bicycle is a great mode of transport, but while it remains popular in it’s current form it has also evolved into a motorbike. Another great mode of transport is the skateboard. Unlike the bicycle though, the skateboard has not evolved. And in my opinion it’s getting left behind. Everything else evolves, it’s time for the skateboard to step up to the plate.
3. My Generation. Apart from being Friday, today is also referred to as the age of the ‘Playstation Generation’ (though other computer video gaming consoles are available). People get fat playing on the Playstation. They also end up with square eyes. The best cure for both these ailments is to get outside. I guarantee Hoverboards would do this. The youngsters of today would switch off their consoles, get on their board and hover about all over the place. Or maybe they’ll just go down to KFC.
4. Literature. If WH Smith lacks one thing on its shelves, it is Hoverboard Monthly. Or the more youth-orientated Pimp My Hoverboard Bitch!
5. No More Snow Chaos. If you look outside today, you will notice that there is snow on the ground. This white stuff is treacherous to walk on or drive over. So the best thing to do is stay in, or, if your journey is unavoidable, get on a hoverboard. And if you fall off, at least you’ll land on something soft.
6. Reputations. There is a great film trilogy called Back To The Future. Well, I say a ‘great trilogy’, the third one was a bit random if you ask me, but that is irrelevant until next week’s 7 Reasons The Third Back To The Future Film Was A Bit Random. What is relevant now though, is that they had hoverboards in BTTF II. In the year 2015. We’re not far off. If we don’t get them soon the credibility of the trilogy is going to plummet.
7. Sport. I think just about every sport out there would be improved by the addition of a hoverboard. Especially if they are remote control hoverboards and controlled by random spectators. It would be a bit like…erm…using a Playstation.
1. Crime. Snow aids crime detection. Foolish criminals often commit a winter burglary and, when fleeing the scene, leave a handy trail of footprints and tyre-tracks that lead straight to their own homes. The police even catch some of them.
2. Unmask the stupid. It’s easy to discover who the idiots are when it snows. The words essential and necessary are words that are used every winter to describe the sort of car journey you should undertake in snowy conditions. It’s always educational to find out what people, presumably without dictionaries, think that these words mean. Some people think that going to the sales at an out-of-town designer outlet is necessary, some people think that a trip to the cinema is essential, some people think that it’s a good idea to drive out to the countryside to look at the snow. These people make poor decisions behind the wheel too. They can usually be found stuck sideways across the road in a snowdrift causing a large queue of midwives, coastguards, heating engineers and off-licence workers to be stranded. If you want to know if your journey is essential, check here: http://www.ismyjourneyabsolutelynecessary.co.uk/
3. Sledging. The snow proves that we’re better at sledging than the Australians. They’ve never even seen snow. Upon encountering snow most Australians ascertain that it’s wet, very cold and flavourless, and quickly conclude that it’s beer. Australians think that you need a bat and ball to go sledging. Australians are wrong.
4. Japery. You can have a lot of fun in the snow. You can throw snowballs and build a snowman, these activities are fun. Even more fun is building a snowman on the roof of your friend’s car; this is fun and causes annoyance, which is a double win. Even better than that is building a snow penis in your next-door-neighbour’s front garden; this is fun, causes annoyance and great hilarity – not to mention ruddy-faced shouting and gesticulation.
5. Silence. The snow baffles sound, and while there’s snow on the ground, a lot of urban background noise is deadened. There are also fewer cars and people around. When snow has fallen, the world is not just bathed in white powder, it is also bathed in silence – which is something to consider while you’re walking along listening to your iPod or chatting on your mobile.
6. Mystery. When I left the house this morning there was one set of footprints on the front path – mine. When I came back, there were four other sets of footprints on the front path. The only evidence of any visitor was the single letter that the postman had delivered. Who were those extra footprints from? Why was one of them wearing Converse trainers in the snow? What sort of animal has both hooves and claws? Did the man with unfeasibly large shoes with a sensibly-gripped-sole really limp slightly with his left leg? It’s a snow mystery.
7. Beauty. Snow is beautiful; it conceals all eyesores and blemishes leaving everything steeped in an egalitarian white-powdered uniformity. This is great as it makes my horrid front garden, with its weeds and peeling paint, look no worse than the rest of the gardens on my street and, while the snow is here, I can relax and stop worrying that I should do something about it. The only thing that makes my front garden look bad in the snow is the large cock in it. He’s come to complain about the snow-penis I built in his garden. He seems quite cross.
1. Children. Christmas isn’t really for grown-ups, it’s about children. For them, the anticipation is incredible and, when the day itself comes, it’s all new and exciting. When the children burst into our bedroom at 6 o’clock this morning and jumped up and down on the bed screaming “It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas!” we were very moved. We don’t know whose children they were, or how they got into our house, but we were moved.
2. Drink. Christmas Day starts with Bucks Fizz and the rest of the day proceeds in an alcoholic-haze. A large proportion of Christmas Day is spent consuming many disparate beverages, but no one gets seriously drunk. They just experience the day in a relaxed alcohol-induced-fug, which is probably just as well, as they’re locked in a house with their in-laws.
3. Presents. I think it’s great that I now have more Argyle-patterned-socks than it would take to outfit a golf-playing millipede. I’m a big fan of the cow-print tie too. Really.
4. Food. Never mind turkey and sprouts and things, it’s the sheer quantity of snack food that makes Christmas Day great. A staggering array of tins and bowls of things are left in the living room for you to gorge yourself on all day. Best of all are the enormous tubs of Twiglets that are available. Like sticks covered in Marmite, they are THE savoury snack. I always try to eat them all before anyone discovers that I’ve opened them, or hide them once they’ve found out that I have. Christmas is about sharing, Twiglets are not.
5. Speech. Traditional, regal, and, best of all, punctual, The Queen’s Christmas Message is delivered at 3pm every Christmas Day, you can set your watch by her. Or, as most people in the UK eat their Christmas dinner at 3pm, your oven timer. The fanfare which precedes the message is like the nation’s dinner gong, precipitating a hurried exit from living rooms across the land. If it weren’t for repeats and highlights on the news, she could say whatever she liked. She could even say whatever Prince Philip liked, nobody would ever know.
6. Crackers. Shop-bought crackers are rubbish. Home-made crackers are amazing. If you make your own then you don’t have to put up with poor jokes, shoddy hats and worthless plastic toys. You can put whatever you like into them – you can even have themed crackers. A couple of years ago I made pirate crackers and we all got eye-patches, bandanas, miniature bottles of rum and pirate-themed jokes. There’s not much that’s more fun than turning your family into pirates and eating Christmas dinner with them. Home made crackers are avast improvement over shop-bought ones.
7. Television. Christmas television is great. There are recent films, one-off dramas, special editions of popular series and Morecambe and Wise Christmas shows. There are classic films too, including that perennial disappointment, The Great Escape. As a child I misheard the title and thought I was going to watch The Greatest Cape. I had imagined that it was a film about a sumptuous and colourful cape, perhaps with magical powers. The premise of my imagined film is still less preposterous than Steve McQueen jumping the fence on a motorbike. Christmas television is great, The Great Escape is not. It should be called The Disappointing Escape.
1. Charity. We don’t know of any instances where showers have made any money for charity, but baths have probably raised millions for charity over the years. From bank managers sitting in baths full of baked beans, to bank mangers sitting in baths full of custard, from bank managers being rolling down the High Street in a bath, to bank managers paddling down the local river in a bath, it’s all about the bath. And bank managers.
2. Thought. No one thinks in a shower. They’re too busy scraping, scrubbing and rubbing while their senses are being assaulted by noisy, powerful, intrusive jets of water. Baths, like libraries, on the other hand, are quiet places of studious contemplation. Archimedes famously worked out how to determine the integrity of gold while in his bath. Churchill conducted a large part of his Second World War campaign from his bath, often dictating notes and occasionally holding meetings there. A good deal of this website was devised in the bath. Nothing good ever came of showering.
3. Fun. Showers are humourless. Baths are fun. Are there any shower toys? No. There are loads of bath toys available though, including submarines, ducks and battleships. There are also good jokes related to baths. My wife often asks me how long I’m going to be in the bath, and I always reply “6’2”.” This joke doesn’t work with a shower as, because of the standing position, 6’2” is your height rather than your length. Unless you are not 6’2”, in which case you’d have to modify the joke and my wife probably wouldn’t enquire this of you in the first place. You see, showers cock everything up.
4. Words. In popular phraseology, showers are seen as a bad thing. Ever heard the parade-ground phrase “you lot are a right shower?” It usually precedes some sort of punishment for tardiness. Being a shower is bad. There’s a popular phrase about baths too, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater”. In this phrase we are being urged not to do anything to harm the baby with the bathwater. The baby with the bathwater is something that we should preserve. The baby with the bathwater is something that shouldn’t be discarded. This is because bathwater is precious. Probably.
5. Verbs. You switch on a shower; you draw a bath.
6. Flatulence. Breaking wind in the shower is dull. Breaking wind in the bath is a Jacuzzi.
7. Fast. The prime motive for using a shower is because it is fast. Being fast is often the wrong motive for doing anything. Go and stand outside your local branch of McDonald’s for a few minutes and look at the people who consume fast food, is fast good? Test cricket fans, is fast good? Ladies, is fast good? People who’ve been chased by a horse, is fast good? Hungry people, is fast good? Stuck people, is fast good? The answer is no, fast is not good. Nor are showers, they’re bloody rubbish.
1. Self promotion. Every year, Michael Winner sends out a Christmas card that promotes him, his books and his television show. He’ll send it to any of the readers of his Winner’s Dinners column in the Sunday Times who send him their address. Would you want Michael Winner to have your address? What if he came to visit? What if he told you to “calm down, dear”? The best case scenario is that you’ll get something with a picture of Michael Winner on it. Repeatedly having your middle-toe hit with a hammer is a better case scenario than that.
2. Comedy. If you send a Christmas card without a stamp on, your friend may be forced to go miles to his local post office to pay for the postage. When he phones up to complain, you can tell him that you’ll reimburse him for the amount he was charged, and send him a cheque in an envelope without a stamp on it, forcing him to go back to the post office and pay the excess postage once more. This actually happened to a friend of mine. I was the culprit. The following year I sent him a CD in a box large enough to accommodate an average-sized refrigerator, knowing he would be out at the time of delivery, forcing him to go back to the post office once more. I am a bad man.
3. Cheque. You might want to send a cheque as a Christmas present, and what better place to put it than inside a Christmas card? As you slide the cheque into the card, you can imagine the recipient’s beaming face as they gratefully receive their gift. Obviously, this is not what happens in the real world. The standard reaction to receiving a cheque is to stare at it blankly for several seconds before exclaiming “A cheque! What is this, the dark ages?” The recipient, used to the wonder that is internet banking, will have to go into town and trudge round for ages, attempting to find a branch of their bank that hasn’t closed down. It will probably rain on them while they’re doing this. They will be cold, they will be wet, they will be tired, they will complain about the experience on the internet. They will not be grateful.
4. Handwriting. A Christmas card is your annual opportunity to handwrite something. It’s surprising how hard it is when you’re out of practice, and it’s surprising how tired your hand gets. My cards look like they were written by a messy child when I start them, and a messy child’s dog by the time I finish.
5. Newsletter. Unbelievably, there are people out there who don’t have blogs. These people will sometimes try to impart a whole years worth of family news in a newsletter contained within the Christmas card. These soporific missives usually contain tedious accounts of the summer holiday in Bermuda, Trevor’s hectic year at the office (who knew there was so much to write about human resources?) and Melanie’s second year at Bath (minus all of the interesting bits, as she hasn’t passed those on to her parents). You can send your own newsletter in a card too, containing your description of how you invented the iPob (a portable device to store and play classic children’s television programmes), a torrid account of your affair with Jennifer Aniston and some pictures from your holiday on the moon. You can write anything you want in a newsletter, no one reads them.
6. Protest. When you send a Christmas card you can use a special Christmas stamp without a picture of the Queen on it. Replacing The Queen with a reindeer is one in the eye for the oppressive monarchical hierarchy, and it would also give Prince Philip somewhere to hang his hat.
7. It’s nice. Obviously there are some sad, lonely people out there who might not expect to receive any Christmas cards. It’s not nice to think of anyone not receiving a card so it’s heartening to remember that Jan Moir can actually go out and post a Christmas card to herself.
Today’s guest post comes from Bolton-based musician, record-label-owner and music-promoter Brad B. Wood. His highly acclaimed band, Merchandise, are releasing their fifth album soon, which could mean any time in the next two years. You can check out the brilliant Merchandise website here, it’ll even play you a song while you read this. You can also find Brad twittering here. Twitter will not play you a song.
1. The moors. In much the same way that the proximity of the Moors influenced Southern Spain, the proximity of the moors influences Bolton. The moors are beautiful in a gorgeously melancholic and autumnal way that imparts the mood which characterises Bolton – helped by the wonderfully named A666 (Dual Carriageway of the Beast) running through the town.
2. Pies. Yes I know Wigan has the reputation, but they’re something of a delicacy round here too. There are many great pie shops including the excellent Ye Olde Pastie Shoppe, Wilson’s in Kearsley and, of course, the locally ubiquitous Greenhalgh’s (a pronunciation nightmare for visitors). My favourite, Villas on Tonge Moor, has sadly closed – not due to any lack of custom on my part. I got told off the other week for saying complimentary things about Carr’s pasties during an interview on Bolton FM – strange folk there. I just mentioned how they make a pasty barm so well (a pasty in a buttered bread roll – great!). You don’t have to travel to Scotland to find fine cuisine, you know. You can also find it in Bolton.
3. Bradshaw fireworks display. A grand evening out. Gloriously crap, and all the more fun for it. One year, the countdown to the start of the display ended with no fireworks. The tannoy announcer asked Cyril (the man in charge of the blue touch-paper) what he was up to several times before he eventually graced us with what could be the most randomly choreographed display in pyrotechnic history. After 25 minutes of mistimed banging and whooshing, bizarre colour combinations and fireworks shooting in all directions, the display concluded with the piece-de-resistance, the words “..od ..ght” illuminated in fireworks.
4. Place names. Well, the best of the lot has to be Knob End, Upper Ramsbottom is just over the hill too (There’s a new game, “Increase the Innuendo by Placing Bolton Place Names Next to Each Other in a Sentence.”) We also specialise in place-names that are unpronounceable to visitors, such as Daubhill (Dobble), and place-names with a right lot of apostrophes: Hall I’ th’ Wood, Top O’ Th’ Brow etc. During a fun game of “Get the Bolton Place Name in a Film Title” (this is how we roll) these were the best: Doffcockerlipse Now, Daubhill Impact (see pronunciation above), Lostock and Two Smoking Barrels, When Harry Breightmet Sally and The Bradshawshank Redemption. That whiled away a long motorway journey of twenty-nine miles, twenty-nine long miles . . . and there were some much worse suggestions.
5. Comedy. Bolton is a funny place, or at least our residents make it one. The local character is to look for the funny; we’re also known for our friendliness to strangers. Genuine business names include “Big Baps and Nice Buns” (a sandwich shop) and Softies Hard Stuff (I think you can guess what he sells). Among our professional comics are Peter Kay, Dave Spikey, Justin Moorehouse, Hovis Presley , Paddy McGuinness and the perennial panto favourite, Stu “I could crush a grape” Francis. We also employ Gary Megson.
6. Bolton Wanderers. Founder members of the Football League and four time FA cup winners – including the White Horse final in 1923 – the first at the old Wembley stadium. We were involved in the first game with nets, which took place between Bolton and Everton (possibly the two teams least likely to need them). And now we’ve come through that dark patch in the eighties where we had to sell one end of the stadium to a supermarket, “We’re the one and only Wanderers!” (except for ones beginning with W)
7. Real ale. Like everywhere, Bolton has a strip of pubs which are less safe than the places you hear about in the international news. However, if you drive out a little, or have a bit of nous, you can avoid everything that’s fetid and wrong with contemporary society, and visit great pubs which make you proud to be British (in a nice way, not a Nick Griffin way). The joy of pubs where folk actually talk to each other is lost on Southerners – Christ knows how they make friends. Go to the No Name (it’s a pub without a name), The Dog and Partridge, The Sweet Green Tavern, The Hen and Chickens, The Old Man and Scythe or The Pack Horse at Affetside and you won’t be disappointed. You may even make a friend.
