Tag: SPAM

Guest Post: 7 Reasons Your Friends’ Social Profiles Have Been Hacked (And How To Spot If They Have)

How well do you know the people you’re connected to on social media? Would you know if they’d been hacked? Would you know why they were hacked?

Every day the people we follow create hundreds of updates. We get status posts. Photo uploads. Direct messages. We get links to off-site content.

But sometimes the stuff your friends post looks weird. Why? Most of your friends probably have a weak understanding of internet security, and might be using the same guessable password across all their social and email accounts.

Basically, they’re very hackable, and they need some free virus protection. So how do you know if your friend has been hacked or if you just need to unfollow them?

Here are some tips to work out how and why your friends may have been hacked…or whether you might actually just need to unfriend them…

1. The strange Twitter DM. A friend sends you a peculiar direct message. It says someone has said something bad about you on a blog. Or it doesn’t say anything, there’s just a strange-looking link with no explanation.

This is spam. Your friend has been hacked. Do not click on the link. It’s probably a phishing scam. The hacker wants your account data, and the link could lead to the internet’s version of Mordor.

Stay in the Shire. Get in touch with your friend and let them know what’s happening. And tell them to change their password!

2. The unexpected Google+ invitation. Out of the blue a friend invites you to join them on Google+. Is this spam? Have they been hacked? Of course. No one uses Google+!

Actually, that’s unfair. And far from the truth. Google’s social baby has just overtaken Twitter to become the world’s second-biggest networking site. Your friend’s message is almost certainly legit.

So respond to your friend and join them on G+. Unless you don’t like them, in which case pretend you never got the message and have never heard of Google+.

3. The relentless Facebook updates. One of your friends begins posting relentlessly about games they’re playing. You get constant newsfeed updates about the in-game levels they’ve completed, items they’ve found and secrets they’ve unlocked.

You also keep getting notifications about the apps they’re using, and never-ending invitations to install garish-looking third-party widgets.

Your friend’s Facebook profile has not been hacked. They simply have a poor grasp of the site’s posting and privacy settings. You need to either unfriend this person or hide all updates from them apart from the absolute essentials. It depends on how you feel about poor social media etiquette.

Alternatively, you might want to let them know about the volume of stuff they’re posting. They might actually be cool, but not realise they’re essentially spamming their friends with digital gibberish.

4. The bizarre Vine messages. Similar to the Twitter direct messages, your friends start posting odd sayings, messages and links in comments on your videos. Your friends don’t usually do this. Is it legit? What’s going on?

It’s likely that your friends’ have been hacked. Vine is a new social platform, and people may not have got a grasp on the security settings for their accounts yet.

Most likely the hacker is just spamming for the lulz. Or more sinister forces could be at work. In either case, don’t click on the links, and let your friends know what someone is posting in their name.

This guy who calls himself the Burger King got hacked by some Scottish bloke called MacDonald. Sort of.

5. The Tumblr that tumbles in quality. You notice that your friend’s old fashion and pop culture blog has become active again. Hooray! But wait – they’ve started blogging about kitchen cabinets and laptops and foreign holidays. The posts are nonsensical. What’s going on?

It’s spam for sure. What’s happened is a hacker has gained access to your friend’s blog and started posting ‘spun’ articles. Spun content is like digital sewage clogging up the web. Don’t become part of the blockage!
Holler at your friend and let them know what’s happening with their blog. They’ll be eternally grateful.

6. The Instagram account that flips. Your friend used to post awesomely arty photos on Instagram. They uploaded interesting images of bars, restaurants, mountains, sunsets, food and clothes. Now they only post images of their kids.

What’s happened? Your friend has grown up and had kids. It happens. Unfortunately, they’ve also decided that all people want to see them post now is pictures of their children.

This syndrome is not confined to Instagram, either. Once contracted, it may spread to all your friend’s social profiles. It’s usually incurable, but there’s hope in the form of browser plug-ins that swap newsfeed photos of babies for cool images.

7. The email that promises unbelievable riches. Ok, email isn’t officially a social media profile, but if it’s part of your Google profile the lines begin to blur.

So you check out your email inbox. There’s a message from a friend. The subject line tells you they’ve made lots of money from the internet.

Unless you know your friend has recently reaped the rewards of some digital startup enterprise, this is probably spam or a scam – the hackers want to gain access to sensitive data on your computer through malware.

So don’t click on any links in the email. In fact, don’t open the email at all. Drop your friend a line and let them know. Again: password, password, password.

About the author: Andrew Tipp is a writer, blogger and editor. He is a full-time digital scribbler and part-time appreciator of Britney Spears. In his spare time he eats bacon.

February 26, 2013
7 Reasons I’m Not Going To Win A Nobel Prize Anytime Soon

On Tuesday evening this flyer popped through the letter box. It is fair to say I nearly fell off my half of the 7 Reasons sofa. ‘Entrepreneurs Needed’. Entrepreneurs! That’s me. ‘Groundbreaking Nobel Prize Winning Product’. Groundbreaking! Nobel Prize Winning! Product! They are all me too. Well, not the Nobel Prize bit. Not yet. But it could be me. ‘Call NOW’ Okay! Only I didn’t. I went back to making my spaghetti omelette. But yesterday… yesterday I gave them a call. And this is how it went.

*Now, before you press play I need to tell you something. In this phone call I’m a bit sarcastic. I was expecting this groundbreaking Nobel Prize winning product to be something like a new kind of penis pump or a tulip that sings forty-six national anthems. With a Jamaican dialect. (And, be honest, who wouldn’t like a penis pump with a Jamaican dialect?) Thing thing is though, this product is neither of those. In fact, it’s a very serious product relating to health issues and is inspired by the death of someone’s father. Something I only discovered a couple of minutes into the call. So, while I wouldn’t say what you are about to hear is in any way offensive, you may find my comments and subsequent reasons insensitive. If you think that could be you, my advice would be to just ignore today’s piece and come back tomorrow.*

[soundcloud url=”http://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/20360733″]

Yes, I cut him off. I was bored. But more than that, I was frustrated. Five minutes I’d been on the phone and I still didn’t know what the product was or what I was needed for. And there was something else. A number of things this man said alarmed me. Let’s take it from the top.

1. As Heard From 0:46 – “If you’ve ever wanted to be involved in the early stages of a proven success story that is about to experience dramatic growth throughout the UK (and Europe) please continue to listen.” It’s not the proven success that bothers me here. Or, indeed, the promise of dramatic growth*. It’s the use of Europe. (The continent, not the band. Though the use of ‘Final Countdown’ as a backing track would have been apt). Europe, in this case, is very much an after thought. As if he doesn’t really believe it. And it’s silly. I wouldn’t go around saying I’ve got this great product that is going to be popular in Maidstone and the World would I? Maidstone (at least some parts of it) is already in the World. As the entrepreneur this man is seeking, I am left with severe doubts. I’m suspicious that he was going to try and charm me with the allure of freshly baked croissants. Well sorry pal, but you’ve picked the wrong man.

2. As Heard From 1:30 – “If you are keen to develop a significant residual income…” Hello! He’s played the money card straight away! I’ve watched Dragon’s Den too many times to know that this is too good to be true. Start off with the money card and three things happen. Firstly, the promise of profits are vastly exaggerated. Secondly, the product is abysmal. And thirdly, you start dreaming about Deborah Meaden with a giant gherkin on her head. Oh, my goodness. It’s happening already***.

3. As Heard From 1:47 – “It is estimated that someone has a heart attack every two minutes.” Well what the bloody hell are we doing on the phone then?! Let’s find this person and help them. They must be in all kinds of trouble. I’m sorry, but anyone who wants to chat about Nobel Prize winning products instead of helping those who are suffering is not the business partner for me. Shame.

4. As Heard From 1:50 – “More than 1.4 million people have a gina [pronounced gyna].” Well this is factually incorrect for a start. Without wishing to beat around the bush, I would suggest at least half the population have a gina. Even I used to have one. And understandably so. Gina G was tremendous. Anyway, the point is, I can’t work with someone who doesn’t know their facts.

5. As Heard From 2:21 – “Now, for most of us we need to look no further than in The Mirror…” And you’ve lost me. Right here. Any product that can in any way be traced back to Piers Morgan is a no-go area for me.

6. As Heard From 4:07 – “This discovery [the role of the nitric oxide molecule] was so significant that one of these Nobel Laureates in medicine subsequently wrote a book.” What?! This scientist discovered nitric oxide could prevent heart disease so he wrote a book! What? Why? Why didn’t he get on and get this stuff on the shelf in Boots and Superdrug? The Piers Morgan association lost me, this has just baffled me. Save lives or write a book? Tough decision that.**

7. As Heard From 4:31 – “The President of the American Heart Association, Dr. Fell On Him Pushed Her…” Oh, come on! Dr. Fell On Him Pushed Her?! What a total stitch up this was. And I bet the call wasn’t free either. Gits.

*You can see why I thought it might be a penis pump now.

**This takes nothing away from the fact that you won a Nobel Prize. Well done that man. (Though you are a bit dopey.)

***

August 4, 2011
7 Reasons Not To Have A Contact Form On Your Website

Okay, up above these words in the menu bar, there’s a page called Contact Us, and we’re beginning to believe that it’s more trouble than it’s worth. In fact, we’re beginning to think we should get rid of it altogether, and we’re coming round to the view that everyone else should too. Now we’re not self-appointed web experts or internet gurus; we’re humourists. If you have a website yourself, we can only advise you to free yourself from the tyranny of the contact form based on our own experience. And, from our experience of having one of the damned things, here are seven reasons to get rid of it.

1. You’ll Have A More Manageable Penis. One of the most frequent things that people use the contact form for is to attempt to sell us penis enlargement pills. And by frequent, I mean we get a lot of penis enlargement offers. In fact, if we don’t visit our inbox for a while it ends up chock-full of enlarged penises. We aren’t really interested in any of these offers (I have a child now, so I probably won’t even need mine for the next eighteen years or so), but it’s a lot of stuff to wade through and ignore. Well, I say ignore, I’m assuming that my writing partner Jon’s ignoring them too. Perhaps he isn’t, though. Perhaps Jon’s buying penis enlargement pills from everyone that’s offering them. It could be that since we’ve been running 7 Reasons, Jon has purchased so many of these pills that his penis has become a major Kent landmark. Maybe ruddy-faced locals in smocks are staring at his chemically-enhanced appendage right now and pointing up at it with awe. Perhaps it’s on Google Earth. Who knows? One thing’s for sure, it’ll be a major hazard to air travellers as the other thing we get offered almost every day is Viagra.

2. You’ll Get To Read Less Gibberish. When the contact form isn’t trying to enlarge our penises, it sends other stuff too. It sends gibberish. Most things containing the subject heading “7 Reasons Contact Form” look like someone just pressed many keys at once. Frequently, we get the message that “sdkjfkl;sdfjsjsdk;” wrote “sjklsdhfkjsdhfjksdfhsjdfhjlksfsdhthurthw”. This is not helpful. In fact, it’s quite scary that “mgklksfdlgjkhg” writes “mxvnbcxn,bvcxb,mvxc” and “hytfhtyhtfyh” writes “vbnmbmnmbnm” on such a regular basis. Our contact page is fairly dull, but it’s not soporific enough to make this many people doze off on their keyboards while they’re reading it. So perhaps this is just the law of averages. Perhaps one person a day actually falls down dead while looking at our contact form. They’re probably dying when they’re reading other posts too, it’s just that we won’t get to know about that. 7 Reasons could be killing them in their droves: We might be the greatest practitioners of genocide since Pol Pot*. Either that, or – I don’t know – but we only get stuff like this from the contact form, not via email or our comments section.

3. Your Life Will Contain Less Mystery. This morning, via the contact form, we received this question: “When does it start airing?” That’s it. That’s the entire message. But what does it even mean? When does what start airing? Is this an enquiry about my laundry? Is this an enquiry about Jon’s penis? 7 Reasons: The Panel Show? Who knows? Certainly not me, and I don’t want to wake up to a mystery of a morning; I’m not Quincy. I just want to wake up to find that it isn’t raining and that there are coffee beans in the house. I would be able to do that if it weren’t for the contact form.

4. Your Messages Will Go To The Right Person. Above our contact form we clearly direct people that wish to write for us to a different page containing a dedicated email address for guest post submissions. This is a (vain) attempt to try to limit the number of identical submissions we receive about car insurance (purportedly all from different people) and to get them sent directly to Jon – who’s in charge of guest post submissions – rather than to me. He’s more patient than I am. He’s calmer than I am. On receiving his ninth identical offer of a car insurance post in a day, Jon’s veins bulge, he turns red, he emits a sound that is part scream, part bellow and part mating call of a rhinoceros and begins to punch the nearest table or wall. I, on the other hand, don’t take receiving them nearly as well. So there’s no likelihood of these things getting used and we just end up getting rather worked up when we receive them. Well, I do.

5. You’ll Feel Better About Yourself. This is from the contact form:

***** wrote:

Hi

My name is *****.

I would like to ask you if its possible to buy the picture of the lemons in a

high resolution (300ppi 160mm x 200 mm).

And if you have it form a other place can you tell me where?

Greetings *****

This refers to a picture of lemons that – in the same way that approximately 99.99999999% of websites source their pictures – we got from Google Images. There’s no way of replying to this person (that amazingly managed to give us their own name three times during the course of a tiny message) without sounding sarcastic. “Dear *****, we did get it from another place. It is available here. Yours sincerely, the 7 Reasons team” would make us look rather mean.

We’ve also received this:

Do you stock a Thermos type water jug to use on invalids bedside, I can’t find one in cataloues.

That’s just heart-breaking. Could we, in all conscience, send a reply saying “sorry, as a humour website we carry no stock of thermal water jugs, could we tempt you with a mildly Francophobic t-shirt?” No. Of course not. So we either have to spend our time researching random queries from confused people or feel really bad about ourselves.

6. You’ll Hear Less About The Colour Of Hats. The other thing we frequently receive via the cursed contact form are offers of help. Technical help. Traffic driving help. Messages that variously offer to help us “engage strategic initiatives”, “harness value-added solutions”, “integrate visionary partnerships” and “orchestrate bricks-and-clicks infomediaries”. A recent message discoursed for so long about white hat SEO, black hat SEO and grey hat SEO that I almost lost the will to live and – had I been viewing the contact form – I would have been in danger of sending myself a gibberish message with my face. As it was, I began to think about purchasing a hat. What I wasn’t thinking about was taking anyone up on their kind offer to improve our website with their baffling and incomprehensible gobbledygook.

7. You’ll Receive A Better Standard Of Correspondence. Groucho Marx brilliantly and wittily advocated exclusivity when he famously said, “I wouldn’t want to belong to any club that would have me as a member”, and this can be applied to the Contact Form too. Because the contact form makes us too accessible. It’s too easy to get in touch with us. If it were more difficult to get hold of us, then we’d get a better class of correspondence, because the act of having to do a tiny bit of research to find our contact details and paste them into an email program could well cut out the spammers and raise standards. Perhaps the extra time and effort that this will take will cause people to reflect on whether they really need to contact us at all.

It boils down to this: If you have a contact form, it’s a magnet for spam in all its forms: penis-related-spam; gibberish-spam; spam that consists of bizarre utterances from the mad; spam that shouldn’t even be going to you; spam that is just flabbergasting or heartrending in its naivety; spam about hats. The one thing we rarely receive from the contact us form is any sort of meaningful correspondence. That all comes via email or Twitter. We’re going to be brave; we’re going to be bold: We’ve looked at the correspondence we receive via our contact form, and we’re going to disable it. And if you have a website that has one, we recommend you go back through your inbox and have a look at how much worthwhile correspondence you’ve received through it. We’re guessing it’s not as much as you think.

*The level of interest in our latest competition bears this out.

July 18, 2011
Win A Prize!

Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed 7 Reasons readers, people of the internet, lovers of SPAM; we have an exciting prize to offer one lucky person.

You may remember a reference from a 7 Reasons post earlier in the week to the giving of the gift of a tin of SPAM. Well, that didn’t go too well. Consequently, we’re now in the position to offer you, the reader, that very self-same tin of SPAM, though now with a slight dent on it.

The Prize (pen, notebook and table not included)

Sadly though, we haven’t had much time to devise a competition – and one of the team also has something of a headache – but we’ve realised something: That 7 Reasons readers are probably creative and resourceful people too. Accordingly, we’re setting you a challenge.

To win this tin of SPAM, which will be dispatched direct from Yorkshire, simply come up with a competition to win a tin of SPAM and send your entry to [email protected]. We’ll judge the entries and the winner will be the person that that has devised – in our opinion – the best competition. You’ve got full licence to be as innovative and creative as you like (in fact, we positively encourage it). Feel free to send illustrations too, if you feel they will enhance your presentation. We’ll announce the lucky winner next Sunday. We might even use the winning competition in the future.

So get your thinking caps on as fame, fortune and a tin of SPAM await you. Oh, and enjoy the rest of your weekend. See you tomorrow.

July 10, 2011
7 Reasons it Must Have Been Terrible to Celebrate Your Wedding Anniversary in the 1930s

In the 1930s it was decided (presumably by purveyors of gifts) that there weren’t enough things associated with anniversaries and a more comprehensive anniversary gift list was created. Fortunately for contemporary celebrants of anniversaries, since then the list has been modernised. This is no bad thing as I’ve seen a copy of the original list. Here are seven reasons that it must have been terrible to celebrate your anniversary in the 1930s.

1. Wood. On the original list, the fifth anniversary is wood. This is rather fitting for the era because, after five long years of marriage, the celebration of their fifth wedding anniversary may well have been one of the last occasions that a married couple got wood. Rather mean to remind them of that though.

2. Willow/Copper. The ninth anniversary is a terrifying prospect. According to the BBC (they who must be believed), after nine years you get the willow/copper anniversary. The only feasible combination of willow and copper that comes to my mind is a policeman with a cane. Imagine your surprise and delight when you sit down with your wife and she says, “Happy anniversary darling, here’s a rozzer to beat you with a stick.” That doesn’t sound like too much fun to me. Perhaps it was more fun back then.

3. Aluminium/Tin. Times were clearly hard in the ‘30s and though your tenth anniversary present would be an improvement on the previous year’s beating, it wouldn’t be much of one as you’re likely to be presented with something in a tin or in an aluminium can. This can mean only one thing: food. But in the 1930s people didn’t have normal food, they had weird food: tins of tongue; tins of luncheon meat; tins of potatoes. Is being presented with a tin of tongue even any better than being beaten by a policeman? Well, should you have had your anniversary in the 1930s, you’d be in a great position to judge.

4. Ivory. After fourteen years of wedded bliss – assuming you’d recuperated from your beating by the forces of law and order five years previously and eating your tongue the following year – it was time for the real presents to begin. For your fourteenth anniversary, you could have expected to receive something without which no home is complete; a bit of an elephant. Obviously your gift wouldn’t be in the form of a bit of an elephant, it would be a bit of one of those useless lumbering creatures from the other side of the world turned into something far more practical, like a letter-opener or a cruet set.

5. China. For your twentieth anniversary you would have received the best gift of all, after which all other anniversary presents would come as an anticlimax. For your twentieth anniversary you could expect to receive the nation of China. Now China back then was war-ravaged and in the economic doldrums, rather than being the titan that it is now, but still, a whole country is an impressive gift. All anniversaries after the twentieth would be a huge disappointment.

6. Pearl/Ivory. After thirty years, while modern couples are receiving their first diamonds, couples using the traditional anniversary list are in for a rare treat. They can expect to relive that fondly remembered fourteenth anniversary on which they received a bit of an elephant only now, as if the bit of an elephant weren’t enough of a treat, they can expect it to be augmented by a bit of calcium carbonate that had been stolen from a fish. Yay!

7. Blue Sapphire. After sixty-five years of marriage, the compilers of the list clearly believe that senility will have kicked in because you’re going to get a sapphire again, but this time it’s going to be a blue one (which will be so much better than the beige one you got for your 45th). “Look darling”, your husband will bellow into your ear trumpet, “I bought you a blue sapphire…it’s blue!”. “Well, fancy” you’ll respond, “a blue sapphire. Well I never! Are these my feet?”

And now, I have a confession to make: tomorrow is my wedding anniversary (and my wife’s). I’m not going to tell you which one, but you might be able to guess, as this is what I’ve got her. Feel free to wish me luck!

July 6, 2011
It’s That SPAM Again

It’s Sunday today, so we’ve taken our traditional day away from the reasoning-mine and, as they are often wont to do, our thoughts have turned to food. Now, some time back we brought you what we considered to be the ultimate SPAM recipe – Planked SPAM – but now we’ve unearthed something that has easily trumped Planked SPAM and knocked it into a cocked hat. Whatever that means. Brace yourself! It’s…

Yes, it’s SPAM ‘n’ Beans which is, apparently, exactly right for Saturday night (which is rather a shame as I took my wife for cocktails and to a really good concert in Northern Europe’s largest Gothic Cathedral last night (if only I’d seen this first)). It seems delightfully simple to cook, consisting as it does of two ingredients; SPAM and baked beans. Simply place slices of SPAM in baked beans and cook them on the hob, then serve in some sort of dirty brown pot with congealed sauce oozing over the side. Who wouldn’t be overjoyed to be served this? It seems that the simplest recipes are often the most delicious.*

*Sadly I’m the member of the 7 Reasons team that doesn’t eat meat and – as SPAM is a distant relative of meat – I can’t try it myself. Any readers care to give it a go?**

**7 Reasons will be back tomorrow, without any tummy trouble whatsoever.

May 8, 2011
7 Reasons It’s At Times Like This I Wish I Was Spanish

For as long as I can remember, 7 Reasons has been on the receiving end of the below email. It’s in Spanish. I speak English. And a little French. And basic business Latin. As a result this email goes straight in the recycle bin. But, just like a Boomerang or Jim Davidson, if you even dare think you’ve got rid of it, it comes back again. And again. And again. Yesterday, I snapped. No longer could I ignore it. I took the time and effort to translate it. Having done so though, I can’t help but think a lot has been lost in Google Translation.

1. Welcome. That is what Bienvenidos means. Or at least that is what Google Translate suggests it means. Is this a Spanish thing? Welcoming you into an email? I thought a welcome was reserved for when you entered a shop or a hotel. I have never once received a letter from Barclays welcoming me. Which is a shame really, I imagine I’d have taken out more loans had they done so. Anyway, from this point on, I am suspicious of this email. And the Spanish in general. Not that the latter takes much, I have been suspicious of the Spanish since the Armada.

2. We have new and updated database of Spanish companies. That’s nice. Shall I reply and tell them about my collection of Wisdens?

3. We invite you to our solutions for effective advertising campaigns. Where are your solutions based I ask myself. Admittedly, it would probably help more if I asked them. As with many things in life it comes down to location, location, location. Yes, all three of them. I dare say if it was Barcelona based, Marc and I would be only too happy to visit the solutions. Sadly though, I suspect Google Translate has missed out the word ‘view’ from between ‘to’ and ‘our’. But this is only guess work. If I could speak Spanish I may well have been supping the delights of various solutions on the Spanish Riviera some eighteen months ago.

4. Offer databases of companies active in the Spanish market would gladly be interested in your products to establish permanent cooperation lines. Oh dear, you’ve lost me again. Something about opening a Co-Op store? Weird people.

5. The effectiveness of our products is guaranteed by the evidence of a growing list of satisfied companies, quickly been able to reach with your offer to new customers. While this is obviously nonsense, I can’t help but applaud the rather brilliant thought process going on here. So brilliant is it that I wish to adopt it for 7 Reasons. From now on the daily brilliance of 7 Reasons is guaranteed by the number of readers we have. For those of you struggling to grasp this concept, don’t worry. I am just addressing the Spanish in their language.

6. The database is updated every three months. In addition, every customer purchasing our database of Companies provide free the first update. See, I told you there was something dodgy about this email. If I purchase the database I then have to give them an update for free. No chance, not on your nelly. Or, not on your Hernán Cortés as they say over there.

7. We will send the product in electronic format and on CD-ROM. I have long held the belief that a CD-ROM is an electronic format, but this news excites me. I’m going to whack my copy of Revolver in a bagel and listen to it on the train to Tunbridge Wells.

March 11, 2011
7 Reasons to Embrace Junk Mail

Junk mail. No one likes it, but there are valid reasons to embrace it. We don’t mean give it a cuddle, that would be weird; we mean accept and enjoy it, because there are – fortunately for us – almost seven reasons to.

Junk Mail (Image courtesy of Stop Junk Mail)*

1. Wanted. There is something very comforting about the sound of your letter box opening and something dropping onto the floor. It makes you feel wanted and loved. If it’s a bill then it’s good to know British Gas care that you are still alive and if it’s junk mail – probably from the local estate agent asking you if you would like to consider selling your house to a family of five who have just moved to the area – well it’s good to know that they think you are friendly. You know, the kind of person who would consider moving for a family of five. The estate agents wouldn’t put the same letter through Lord Sugar’s letter box would they? No. Because he has evil in his eyes. And a guard dog.

2. New Experiences. One of the most regular pieces of junk mail that adorns house mats all over the country are those from local (and not so local) take-away restaurants. Whether it’s Indian, Chinese, Taiwanese, Bangladeshi, Italian or Chav, what a great way to start experiencing a different culture. It might only take you one chicken dansak to decide that you want to go and experience India for itself or it might only take one late pizza delivery by a teenager who calls you ‘boss’ to make you decide you are living in the wrong part of town.

3. Pens. They say that you can never have too many pens. And fortunately, charities have challenged this age-old assumption by providing them to us free of charge to us via the medium of junk mail. And it turns out that you can have too many pens. I write stuff every day, in fact you’re reading it now. I write far more than the average person and rarely use a pen. I require one pen, for the purpose of writing down random notes that I can’t read later on and eventually turn into paper aeroplanes. Fortunately though, there is an alternate use for all of the pens that charities send to me at a loss. I use them as legs for my four-legged (and six-legged) potato animals. I clearly have too many pens. And potatoes.

4. Rubbish. To be embraced heavily are those charity bags that get stuck in your letter box. You know, those that the charities ask you to fill with old and unwanted clothes. Well, if you do manage to remove them from the letter box without ripping them, they make brilliant bin bags. Don’t go walking down the street swinging one around in the breeze though, you’ll become a prime chugger target. You’ll get chugged. In a chugging.

5. Baldness. We don’t know everything about the 7 Reasons readership. The 7 Reasons team both have hair, and we imagine that our readers do too. But there may be some who are afflicted with baldness. And, if there should be such people reading, they might learn from this use of junk-mail. Because back – way back – in history, in a time almost lost to human memory there was once a thing, a sort of a big flaming ball of heat and light that dwelt in the sky. Some cultures worshipped it, some feared it, and it had many names. Here, it was known as the sun. And, in those far-gone days, when it lit up the sky, it was a menace to the follicularly challenged who lacked the natural protection from its rays that the rest of us take for granted. But with junk-mail there’s always a free emergency hat lying on their doormat, waiting to be origamied. Just in case the great orb in the sky should ever reappear, as unlikely as that seems.

6. Love. If this isn’t enough to satisfy your junk mail habit, then the final option is to create a junk mail-mache person. Then you can really embrace it if you are that way inclined. Or a pervert as it is more commonly known. Just make sure they are dry first.*

7. Lifestyle. As a guide to living, junk mail is invaluable. Want to know what not to eat or drink? All of that information is conveniently posted unsolicited through your letterbox. Whether it’s takeaways, highly dubious drinks delivery services, or the offers at your local branch of Londis. If a picture of something (these things are always pictorial) comes through your letterbox, then it’s disgusting and common and bad for you. Yet surprisingly tempting when drunk; which is how they get you, by the way. They expect you to read them when you’re lying face-down on your own doormat having just made it home from a big night out; when your guard is down. Why else would they put them there? Bastards.

*Because wet perverts are the worst kind.

You can also use it to make one of these!

*If you can’t find the love to embrace junk mail, check out Stop Junk Mail here.

December 10, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: A Recipe

It’s Russian Roulette Sunday again (and ordinary Sunday too) and we’ve realised something: We’ve never given our readers a recipe before. We’ve requested them when under pressure; we’ve offered general lifestyle advice on how to do food correctly; and on how food should be consumed, but we’ve never been specific about how to prepare it. Until now.

This isn’t our own recipe, it’s one that we stumbled across on the internet while doing something else. But it’s safe to say that we were amazed by it. Flabbergasted. Dumbfounded. It’s a perfectly genuine recipe that features in an advert for the main ingredient and we haven’t in any way made it up.

In the past, we may have created and altered posters and passed them off as genuine, but we did that because we didn’t think that anyone would believe us, and we certainly didn’t imagine that thousands of people around the world would download those posters, presumably to use in essays and school projects. In fact, we feel fairly confident that, as World War II recedes further into history, and internet content becomes ever-more readily-accepted, those posters will come to be seen as genuine, and we – in our usual hapless manner – will have inadvertently caused a revision of history. We’re actually dreading the day that one of our posters turns up in a newspaper, or a book. Anyway, we’ve learned our lesson, and this poster is categorically not one of our creations.

You’re probably feeling a little peckish by now so, Ladies and Gentlemen, discerning readers of 7 Reasons (.org), we present to you, without any further ado…Planked SPAM.

Now, to some people, a meal consisting of SPAM on a plank might seem a little unconventional or unappetising, but rest assured: When you unveil this culinary master-stroke with a flourish, it will be “…greeted with cheers” by your jubilant dinner-guests. The advert says so, so it must be true. We’re not sure what wood the plank should be made from, though pine would probably be nice and fragrant, and less tough than oak. But you can experiment with your own planks, we wouldn’t want to ruin the fun. Let us know how you get on.

September 26, 2010