7 Reasons

Tag: Sponsorship

  • 7 Reasons To Be A Birdman

    7 Reasons To Be A Birdman

    The other month, Worthing did something that it had never done before. It appealed to me. Or, to be more precise, the Worthing International Birdman Competition appealed to me. Lots of muppets chucking themselves off Worthing pier. Brilliant. I doubt they needed persuading, but if you have ever considered being a Birdman, here are seven compelling reasons why you should definitely do it.

    7 Reasons To Be A Birdman

    1.  The Horn. We’re all a little bit kinky at heart. We probably won’t admit it – which is why I’m admitting it on your behalf – but the idea of spandex and lycra is not all too alien to us. Opportunities to wear such attire rarely show themselves however, which is why being a Birdman is the perfect excuse. You could be Superman or Bananaman or Robin or a Dominatrix. You get a cheap thrill and no one bats an eye lid. Perfect.

    2.  Funding. If you went up to your friends and said, “I’m dressing up as Peter Pan, can I have a fiver?” you’d probably get laughed out of the room. Well, pushed anyway. Saying that you’re doing if for charity though and they’ll be far quicker to the cash point. Of course you’re not going to give it to charity, you’re just funding your unemployment habit.

    3.  Cred. R Kelly’s masterpiece I Believe I Can Fly is often cited as being thoroughly whimsical. No one really believes they can fly. Not even me after half a Peroni. Being a Birdman, though, gives this song new credibility. So, if you don’t want to be a Birdman so you can throw yourself off a pier, do it for Robert Sylvester.

    4.  Impress. Why was Superman so popular with the ladies? It wasn’t his glasses. Or his ability to stalk Lois Lane. It was because he could fly. And perhaps because he could protect you against just about anything that wasn’t within close proximity of a green, shiny rock. Mainly though, it was because he could fly. So, if there is someone out there you want to impress – and your 1995 Premier League Sticker Album is failing to do the magic – be a Birdman. (As for why Superman was so popular with the men. Well that comes down to Teri Hatcher. Superman managed to marry her, James Bond managed to get her killed. Muppet.).

    5.  Punishment. Maybe you’ve let yourself down. Perhaps you dropped a catch. Perhaps you shouted at your Mum. If you are not a Roman Catholic you gave not ask for forgiveness, so go and be a Birdman. A poor Birdman though. It is your duty to simply belly flop off the pier. That is your comeuppance. And if it doesn’t hurt, do it again. And again. And again. Only when you have tears in your eyes and at least one broken rib can you stop.

    6.  Film. There is little debate that Birdman Of Alcatraz is a good film, but, let’s be honest, while it contained a lot of stuff about sparrows, there was very little of Burt Lancaster disguising himself as a sparrow and trying to escape. I know it was based on a true story, but had John Frankenheimer never heard of artistic license? Should you prove yourself to be a good Birdman there is a very real possibility that you might find yourself cast alongside Simon Bird, Russell Crowe and Ethan Hawke in Birdman Of Alcatraz 2: Feathered Creatures.

    7.  Men Can Be Birds Too. I once knew a bloke called Kieran. I say ‘once knew’ because I don’t know him anymore. Sadly, he’s no longer with us. It’s okay, he’s not dead. He’s now a woman called Cynthia. Now, changing sex is not my kind of thing, but it’s what he/she wanted to do and I can only commend him/her on his/her decision to go through with it. I only wish that there had been a Birdman competition while he was contemplating the procedure. That way he could have experienced being a bird without the great expense. Still, he’s got boobs to play with now so I expect she’s happy.

  • 7 Reasons This Magazine Has Ruined Everything

    7 Reasons This Magazine Has Ruined Everything

    Somethings in life, you just don’t expect. One such thing was my rejection from the 2011 London Marathon. It’s me, Jon, by the way. Just in case you are my co-writer Marc, and are wondering when the hell you entered the ballot. It’s the fourth time I have entered the ballot and failed. That’s quite unlucky. And for someone who despises failure in all its forms, a horrendous turn of events. I was so sure I was going to get an accepted magazine this year. It was my turn. It was my year. But I didn’t. I got a poxy, ‘Commiserations, your ballot application to run the 2011 Virgin London Marathon has been unsuccessful but there’s still a chance to run…’ magazine. Poxiness. Complete poxiness. And it’s ruined everything.

    Virgin London Marathon 2011 Commiserations Magazine

    1.  Targets. I work best when I have targets. Something to aim for. A deadline. A tea-break. Dinner. Mainly though, it’s a deadline. When I have a deadline, I know what I have to do. Everything is in front of me. Everything is clear. I can plan, I can re-plan and most of all I get whatever needs to be done, done. The same goes for my running. If I have an event to prepare for, I prepare for it. I have the motivation of a medal – and one of those foil sheets that make me look like a spaceman – awaiting me on the horizon. Without that though, the only thing on the horizon is an old woman waiting for a bus, and between you and me, I can’t be bothered to run all the way over to her. So I don’t. I stay in. And eat a biscuit. And yawn. And scratch. And eat another biscuit. And life sucks. (Apart from the biscuits). So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined motivation.

    2.  Money. This ‘Commiserations’ magazine is going to cost me a bloody fortune. Which, considering it was free, seems both ironic and calculating. If I had got one of the better ‘Congratulations’ magazines, I would have gone on a health regime. No biscuits; no crisps; no beer; no fun. Quick calculations show that would have saved me at least £15 a week. Multiply that by the twenty-four weeks until the London Marathon actually occurs and we are looking at a minimum of £360. £360! I could have bought 28,800 tea-bags with that! Instead I bought biscuits, crisps and beer. Unbelievable. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined my tea-based caffeine addiction.

    3.  Trainer Manufacturers. Nike; Adidas; Reebok; Asics; all other running footwear brands. One of them has lost a sale. Actually, probably two sales. If I had been successful in the tombola, I would certainly have invested in a new pair to carry me the 26.2 miles and a spare pair in case the others got dirty. As I’m not even going to be running 26.2 metres, I am not investing. Which means one the sports good manufacturers is not going to achieve as good a turnover as they may have done and as a result someone will no doubt get sacked. Hopefully a Frenchman. That at least will bring me some comfort. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined child labour.*

    4.  April 17th 2011. This is the date of the London Marathon. A marathon I will not be watching. A marathon I will be avoiding. A marathon that will make me frustrated and tetchy for the whole day. In my frustrated and tetchy state, I will probably be looking for trouble. I will probably want to kick something. And that’s bad news for any living thing. Or, if I choose something more sturdy, my foot. Either way, I’d avoid me. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined next door’s cat.

    5.  Alternatives. Last year, when I failed to attain ‘congratulatory’ status, I went looking for alternatives. Something else to fill the void that had been left in my life. I found it in the shape of a moustache. Or, more accurately, the shape of Movember. For a whole month, people’s eyes were abused by the sight of a ginger handlebar** adorning my face. And I didn’t enjoy it much either. Due to the London Marathon’s foresight, I may well have to do it again. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined humanity.

    6.  The Amazon. Not only have the organisers of the 2011 London Marathon upset me, they have also upset a tree. Well, actually, they’ve gone further than just upset it. They’ve beaten it to a pulp. And it’s not just me they’ve let down. It’s 100,000 others too. And that’s a lot of tree. Now, somewhere, in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest, is a clearing they call, ‘Commiseration Place’. And, somewhere, up in the atmosphere, is much more carbon dioxide than there ever should have been. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined the planet.

    7.  Peaks. My sexual peak was ten years ago – though, for many reasons, that seemed to pass me by. My cricket peak was eight years ago – though, for many reasons, that seemed to last little more than a couple of hours. My writing peak was last week – though, for many reasons, it didn’t equate to much when written down. My running peak is now. Right now. In the year that I am 27. But thanks to the London Marathon, I will not be able to utilise it. Instead I will have to wait until a year/two years/five years/ten years after my running peak to take part. And that’s a long time to rent a deep-sea divers’ suit for. So, to sum up, the London Marathon has ruined peaking.

    *Thinking about it, this might be a good thing.

    ** Sounds more impressive than it was.