Tag: Sunday

7 Reasons That Series II of Downton Abbey Will Be Even Better Than Series I

Downton Abbey, ITV’s very enjoyable and successful Sunday evening drama has had a second series commissioned. This is brilliant news as it is the best thing that ITV has produced for ages, possibly even ever. And the great thing is that the second series is going to be even better than the first. Here are seven reasons why.

1. The Writing Will Be Better. Julian Fellowes is a terrific writer and his historical knowledge and nuanced eye make Downton Abbey a brilliant evocation of an Edwardian life of privilege. And, as absolutely everything improves with practice and revision, the writing will be even better in the second series: The first time he wrote Gosford Park, it was Gosford Park, which was quite good. The second time he wrote Gosford Park, it was Downton Abbey, which was very good, and the third time he writes Gosford Park, it will be Downton Abbey: Series 2, which will surely be amazing. If they commission a few more series, Downton Abbey will eventually become the best written thing in the history of television.

2. The Opening. The first series of Downton Abbey opened with the news of the sinking of the Titanic reaching the house. Having the heirs to the house die in the Titanic tragedy was a terrific device which acted as the catalyst for many of the storylines. Series two can repeat this by killing off the current heir to Downton Abbey in the sinking of the Lusitania, and then we can begin the search for an heir all over again. Only this time we might get one with a chin and a personality.

3. The Limp. One of the dominant storylines of series one has been Bates’ limp. The consternation that it has caused has resonated throughout the series with many repercussions for both the house’s residents and staff. The First World War setting of season two will offer far greater scope for the characters to be intolerant of the disabled causing, as it surely will, characters to maim themselves fighting the Bosch from a trench. Perhaps a new downstairs hierarchy will develop based on the amount of available limbs a servant has. It’s like taking the limp storyline and escalating it.

4. Maggie Smith. Redoubtable battleaxe, the Dowager Countess, stole the show when she enquired over dinner, “The weekend? What is a weekend?”. The war will provide far greater scope for lofty and disdainful incomprehension, bringing as it will, a whole new vocabulary of dreadnoughts, zeppelins, trench foot, doughboys, big berthas, whizz-bangs and Kaisers. Though she probably already knows who the Kaiser is, “Rum fellow, typical foreign-type, no notion of how to dress for luncheon and abominable taste in hats.” The moment she exclaims, “A zeppelin has bombed Hull? What is this Hull of which you speak?” will be priceless.

5. Conscription. There’ll be great scope for new and interesting characters because of conscription. And, while the third reserve under-butler’s valet’s second footman is away having his head blown off at the Somme, who knows what could happen back at Gosfor Downton Abbey. Any manner of earth-shattering things could occur. Women may have to take on some of the tasks usually performed by the menfolk. The scope for revolutionary gender-role reassignment is immense. Perhaps they’ll find themselves selecting cufflinks, removing lint from a man’s jacket or winding up a clock. A maid might open the front door! Anarchy.

6. Order. The version of pastoral care the paternal Earl metes out to his wards will be tested to the limit in series two, as the poverty and lack of privation that war brings begins to impinge on life at Downton. How will he dispense justice when the newly widowed ladies-maid’s kitchen-maid’s undermaid is caught pilfering part of a silver cruet set? How will he deal with the theft of three of his grouse by a hungry poacher named Higgins (all poachers are called Higgins, I don’t know why). How will he react to the wooing of a ladies maid by an itinerant muffin man? It’s going to be great.

7. Suitors. Once she’s been forbidden to go into nursing by the Dowager Countess, (“Nursing? A lady tending commoners? The moon will surely implode,”) the eldest daughter will continue her Downton life pretty much unaltered, except with more varied suitors. Instead of being wooed by a succession of avaricious dullards in black tie, she’ll be wooed by a succession of avaricious dullards dressed in khaki. And that will wholly justify paying the licence fee for a colour television. We can’t wait.

October 15, 2010
7 Reasons That The Westbourne Bank Protest Was Stupid

In Britain, it’s often said that we’re not very good at protesting, and we’re always compared unfavourably with the French in that regard. But now, public protest in the UK has reached an all-time low because, last weekend, several men in Dorset bricked up the door of their local bank in what they claimed was a, “…protest against the reluctance of banks to lend money to small firms”. Here are seven reasons that their protest was stupid.

1. They Went To The Wrong Bank. The protesters wanted to brick up the door of the Westbourne branch of Natwest Bank because it had refused the group’s ringleader, Cameron Hope, a business loan. But, when they arrived at the Natwest, the police were nearby, so the group decided to brick up the door of a different bank instead. Barclays. Now, if I do something that irritates my wife involving…ooh…I don’t know…umm…a bicycle, for example, and I’m not there when she finds out about it – or I’m standing near the police – I wouldn’t expect her to go and yell at a different man. Because that would be crazy. And irrational. And yes, it would be much better if she did that, but that’s not the point. Bricking up the door of a bank that they didn’t have a legitimate grievance with is just mad. And counter-productive.

2. Prudence. Okay, so the bank turned down Cameron Hope’s loan application. What should he do? Scrimp and save, perhaps. Look at alternate ways of raising capital, or go to a different bank. I’m not a businessman, but I wouldn’t choose to demonstrate my financial acumen and creditworthiness to another bank by frittering my money away on costly building materials and then use them to construct a monument to my own profligacy on their doorstep. Because that’s not going to help. And it’s a lot of effort. He could have achieved the same effect by setting fire to twenty pound notes in front of the bank manager instead. Far less trouble.

3. Put Simply. The more money the bank has, the more they’ll lend, making it more likely that you’ll get a loan. Conversely: The less money the bank has, the less they’ll lend, making it less likely that you’ll get a loan. So if you brick the door of the bank up, customers can’t take their money to the bank, and then the bank can’t lend it to you. I realise that this is a highly simplistic, microeconomic description of banking, but I’m addressing it thus, to the protesters because of…

4. The Quote. The quote tells us that the protesters don’t understand how banking works at all, because one of the group stated to journalists, “You go into a bank and there’s nothing there, the bank’s open but the safe is shut.” This is his summary of his grievance with the banking system; and it doesn’t really bear much scrutiny. Because of course there’s nothing there. What does this man expect to find in a bank? Displays of money? Shelf upon shelf of alluringly-arrayed notes and enticing floor-displays brimming over with a boundless abundance of shimmering coins? And of course the safe is shut. It’s a safe. That’s its job. If the bloody things weren’t meant to be shut they’d be called something different. They’d be called unsafes. Or vulnerables.

5. Helping The Bank. The protesters bricked up the door of the bank on a Sunday: A day when all banks are closed. So this had no effect on the bank’s ability to trade. In fact, one of the major obsessions and expenses of any bank is security, and by bricking up the door – and thereby making it more difficult for robbers to enter the premises – the protesters actually helped the bank. Not to mention that their protest also brought the police along to stand outside in hi-vis jackets, which probably made the bank as safe as it’s ever been. And all at no extra cost to the bank. What are the protesters going to do next, try to bring down the Conservative party by voting for them?

6. Consequences. Though the protest didn’t have any serious consequences, it could well have done. The protesters could have endangered the nation’s economy. By bricking up the door of the bank, they made it likely that employees would have to enter and exit the premises via the windows. And, as history teaches us, bankers jumping out of windows is one of the worst economic indicators that there is. Worse even than Alistair Darling’s eyebrows. It’s the sort of thing that, if the media get hold of the footage, can shatter fragile economic confidence.

7. Achievement. As a protest against banking it doesn’t appear to have accomplished anything. I was in the centre of a city yesterday, and banking appeared to be going on pretty much unhindered by the protest. People in polyester uniforms were sitting around near potted plants in waist-high partitioned areas looking depressed, as usual. The cash machine outside was covered in the remnants of a McDonald’s milkshake, as usual. I wanted to thump over 90% of the people in the queue, as usual; even myself. So the protest has had no discernible effect on banking. Obviously, the protest brought an awful lot of free publicity for the property developer behind it, but that wasn’t the point. Because this was a protest against banking, right? And not some sort of tawdry self-serving publicity stunt?

September 30, 2010
7 Reasons I Was So Excited To See That Tiger Woods Had Changed His Putter, I Nearly Wet Myself

Yesterday came the startling revelation that Tiger Woods will be going into The Open Championships at St Andrews with a new putter. One couldn’t help but get excited. A bit too excited actually. So many questions, so few answers.

1. Will Tiger’s New Putter Help Him Stay Domesticated?

2. Will Tiger’s New Putter Get Him Into Even Bigger Holes?

3. Will It Come With Attachments For Enhanced Stroke Play?

4. Will Tiger’s Old Putter Hunt Down His Unfaithful Master?

5. Will The New Putter Have A Cheetah Headcover?

6. Will Tiger’s New Putter Let Off Balloons Everytime He Sinks A Short One?

7. Is Tiger’s New Putter A Danger To Psychedelic Penguins?

July 14, 2010
7 Reasons It’s Outrageous The BBC Have Cancelled Last Of The Summer Wine

1. It Has Sunday Written All Over It. Last Of The Summer Wine is Sunday. On it comes at around 6pm and immediately the nation realises it will soon be Monday. That is Last Of The Summer Wine’s job. Getting people depressed so they start the week off in the right way. Now what are we going to do? We can’t be happy on Monday morning. That would be wrong.

2. The Joke. It’s the same one. It always has been. I haven’t watched every episode of every series. In fact I don’t think I’ve watched even thirty seconds of every series, but that doesn’t matter. Because I know what the joke is. Three blokes flying down a hill in a bath tub. Or on a sofa. Cue two policeman looking alarmed as it buzzes by them. (One of them drops a sandwich too). They don’t write jokes like that anymore. Where am I going to go for my sofa fix?

3. Sex In The Countryside. There is something beautifully innocent about old women sitting in a lounge, eating sticky buns, talking about their husband’s inability to remember to take off their muddy shoes when they come home of an evening. That’s what women should be talking about. We won’t have that again. Instead we’ll have repeats of four forty-somethings, sitting in a New York restaurant, discussing the size of Samantha’s latest pepper grinder conquest. Disgusting. You hear me? Disgusting.

4. Holmfirth. For the uninitiated, this is where Last Of The Summer Wine is filmed. I have never been. Because I don’t need to. Every year, if I want to, I can see how much the place has changed on the TV. Along with all other eight regular viewers. But what are we going to do next year? When it’s no longer on. I’m going to have to go on a coach trip to Holmfirth with eight randomers. I don’t want to go to Holmfirth with eight randomers. It’s bloody miles away.

5. Something Else Not To Watch. I don’t watch Last Of The Summer Wine. No matter what you may think. When the final series finishes though, I won’t be able to not watch it. So that means I’ll have to find something else not to watch to restore the happy balance in my TV viewing. This is pressure. I can’t choose Loose Women because I already choose not to watch it. I’l have to find something I don’t know about on some channel I don’t know about and not watch that instead. What a waste of time.

6. Potential. It promised so much didn’t it? And it was so close to achieving it. What with Russ Abbot playing a milkman who thinks he was once in MI5. What a shame to cancel the show just as it was reaching its climax.

7. 2010: The End. What with Lost ending this year. And 24. And Heroes. And Flashforward. It feels a bit like a salt in the wound to also have Last Of The Summer Wine ending on us. And this comes from someone who didn’t even watch 24. Or Heroes. Or Flashforward. Or Last Of The Summer Wine. Which only goes to show how ridiculous and painful the BBC’s decision is.

June 4, 2010
Russian Roulette Sunday: 7 Reasons Top Trumps

Hello. It’s Jon here. I like your pyjamas. No, I know your not wearing them at the moment. But that’s not the point. Today I thought we’d play a game. And when I say ‘we’ I really mean ‘me’. The game I’m going to have with myself today is Top Trumps. But not just any version of Top Trumps. Oh no, sir. I shall be playing 7 Reasons Top Trumps. With myself. I have two cards. A Jonathan Lee card. Woohoo! And a Marc Fearns card. Boo! Let’s duel.

Drink: Tea v Coffee. So we have Lee with his traditional English cuppa against Fearns with his rest of the world coffee. Verdict: Lee win. 7 Reasons is a British humour site after all. And tea is better.

Sidekick: @SirStraussy v Horatio Pyewackett Caractacus Fearns. It’s the spoofed version of England Cricket Captain Andrew Strauss up against Marc’s cat. Verdict: Fearns Win. Horatio Pyewackett Caractacus Fearns has walked over foil for a BBC Radio 5 LIve experiment. @SirStraussy hasn’t.

Best Rating: +41 v +7. So it’s 7 Reasons Sports Personality Of The Year Was A Joke up against a couple of Marc’s posts that have registered plus seven. Verdict: Lee win. Maths.

Grammatical Errors: 298 v 1. A disgraceful number of misplaced apostrophes taking on the incorrect spelling of Jennifer Aniston. Verdict: Fearns win. 7 Reasons uses the English language. It helps if the writers know how to use it.

Special Power: Self-love v Cow Magnet. A man who fancies himself a bit too much against a man who is fancied by cows. Verdict: Score draw. Narcissism is not pretty. Neither is being buggered by a cow.

Overall Result: 2-2. Well it wasn’t a classic. In fact it was a bit like watching Carlisle play Scarborough. In the end though, it was a fair result. Player of the game was Lee, purely because he had better headwear. Next week we might actually play Russian Roulette.

May 16, 2010
7 Reasons That Bank Holiday Weekends Are Weird

1. Bank Holiday Monday. It’s weird. It’s a second Sunday. Shops and public transport operate on Sunday time on bank holiday Mondays, but Sunday is a pudding of a day: So why not make the Sunday of the bank holiday weekend a second Saturday instead? Then we’d have two Saturdays and only one Sunday (Monday), which is a much better Saturday: Sunday ratio. Plus, people spend more on Saturdays, so it would help the economy. See, I’ve thought this through.

2. The Wray Scarecrow Festival. Possibly one of the best bank holiday events anywhere in the world. It’s a festival of scarecrows! It’s almost as good as cheese-rolling! Look! Scarecrows! Bloody thousands of them (well, several).

3. Weather. Western Sub-Saharan Africa and Indo-Australia are afflicted with particularly intense monsoon seasons. In Britain, we have one too. Every bloody bank holiday weekend. This is why one of our more notable national traits is moaning about the weather. Well, that and tea consumption. On balance, I prefer moaning.

4. People. People do strange things during bank holidays. This bank holiday weekend, I found myself at home alone and decided to watch the classic ITV documentary series, The World At War. All twenty-six episodes. I watched the entire Second World War in three days. Madness. No one sets themselves that sort of stupid task on a normal weekend. They do practical things like building an Anderson Shelter in the garden or shopping for powdered egg and nylons.*

5. The Following Week. The bank holiday throws the whole working week off kilter. Tuesday becomes Monday, Wednesday becomes Tuesday, Thursday becomes Wednesday yet Friday is still Friday, because we’ve all adjusted by the time we get to it. But a day’s gone missing somewhere. Hasn’t it?

6. Banks. Why do banks even get their own holiday? Is it so they can look down their noses at building societies? Is it to give them less time in which to cock up the global economy? Perhaps we should have more bank holidays.

7. Cheese Rolling. The best thing in the history of the world: Better than powered flight; better than cricket; better than sausages. It’s cheese-rolling. If you haven’t seen cheese-rolling before, here’s some footage.**

*I may have watched too much war.

** That was a person with a horse’s head, by the way. You weren’t imagining it. Thought you’d like to know.

May 4, 2010
7 Reasons We Fall Asleep

1. Bob Willis. I guess Bobby is most famous for destroying the Australian batting line-up at Headingley in 1981 (and being continually overlooked for this feat since). These days he would probably be described as a cricket analyst/commentator. Sadly, I have no idea whether he is any good or not, because, within half a minute of hearing his voice, I am out for the count on the chaise longue. Mr. Monotone is the sleep doctor.

2. Sunday. Everyone sleeps on a Sunday afternoon. It’s a rule. Sunday lunch followed by a Sunday sleep. As a child it is the first time you hear your Mum snore. Instead of having to hear it again, you decide to learn to sleep on Sunday afternoons too.

3. Cinema. It might be the darkness or the comfy seats or the lack of fresh air or the mind-numbingly boring plot that makes your eyelids feel heavy, but whichever it is, soon you find yourself struggling to stay awake. This never happens at a gig or in the launderette or in the queue at Tesco. So why does it happen after you’ve just paid £10.50 on a ticket plus a small fortune on popcorn and a ridiculously giant sized coke that doesn’t fit in the bloody cup holder?

4. Travel. Okay, so strictly speaking you are not actually asleep. It’s impossible to sleep next to this guy. He has been talking to everyone, shifting around in his seat and crunching nuts ever since you left. And you’ve got seven more hours of this to put up with. The one thing you can do is pretend that you’re asleep. Maybe if you do that and everyone else does that, he’ll eventually fall asleep himself. Then you can gag him and lock him in the toilet.

5. Grandparents. Another one of life’s mysteries is why your grandparent’s home is always ten degrees warmer than anywhere else. Even if it’s a sunny, warm May afternoon, they still having the heating on. Not only do you end up stripping down to your sweat soaked string vest but the heat also saps your energy. Before you know it you have fallen alseep with your head resting atop the pork pie.

6. Fancy Dress. Is there anything better than the person who really wants to win the Fancy Dress competition? Not only have they spent hours on their costume, they are prepared to act the part as well. Which is why you are delighted they have come as Sleeping Beauty.

7. Reading. Now reading can be fun. I know, I have done some fun reading myself. What is not fun is reading about how fun reading can be. So I’ll stop. Also into this category falls reading about what makes you sleep. Of course – as this post will testify – it very much depends on how you write it. The fact that you are still awake is testimony to my literary skills. But what if you were to try and read this? Seven pages on the topic of Why We Sleep. Good luck. I’ll wake you later.

November 28, 2009