7 Reasons

Tag: winner

  • 7 Reasons Twitrelief Is For Twits

    7 Reasons Twitrelief Is For Twits

    Today sees the launch of Twitrelief, a fundraising event for Comic Relief. While I, of course, applaud anyone who spends time raising funds for good causes I can’t help but question what this event has to offer. In a nutshell, people can bid to have a ‘celebrity’ follow them on twitter for a bit. That’s it. A ‘celebrity’ will follow you on twitter. Now, maybe it’s me, maybe I’m cynical, but I just don’t get this celebrity thing. They are just people. Like you and me. So what’s the fascination? Wouldn’t you be happier having someone follow you who wants to read your views on Hob-Nob dunking technique? Judging by the number of bids already in, no you wouldn’t. But that’s really irrelevant. My real issue here is with what the Superfollow – that’s the reward – entails. It’s not much. Which makes all you bidders twits. Absolute twits. Here’s why:

    Red Nose Day Logo

    1.  Follow Duration. The ‘celebrity’ will follow the highest bidder for a period of 90 days, after which it is up to them whether they wish to continue following or cut the winner form their lives completely. Just imagine how this is going to make the bidder feel. The bidder won’t be able to concentrate for 90 days. All they will be thinking is, ‘Does Fearne Cotton think I’m interesting?’ And then on that 90th day you find out in the cruelest way possible. You slowly scroll down your followers list to see if she’s still there. Only a twit would put themselves through that anguish.

    2.  Retweet. Part of the package includes the ‘celebrity’ retweeting one of your twitter updates. Just one, in the 90 days. I have two problems here.

    One: Surely it goes against the purpose of twitter. The retweet function is for people to pass on things they find interesting, not for Alexandra Burke to retweet winning bidder Susan’s update, ‘gotta luv kfc! lol!’

    Two: If the idea of a ‘celebrity’ retweeting your update compels you to bid, you must be a very boring person. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. You are a very boring person who writes very boring updates. Boring updates that no one will ever want to retweet. Not even your own mother. That is why the retweet has become your goal. Your aim. It’s what you live for. The idea of someone retweeting your update thrills you. It’s like the yacht syndrome. I would love a yacht. The longer I go without one, the more I want one. And it hurts not having one. Still, at least I don’t write boring twitter updates. Boring 7 Reasons posts yes, but not boring twitter updates.

    3.  A Mention. The final part of the package is a mention in a tweet from a ‘celebrity’. What the hell do you have to bid for this for? Just get on twitter and send them a message. They might reply. If they do donate a fiver to Comic Relief. Why not? You would have spent £2,000 on it.

    4.  Added Bonuses. Thankfully some of the ‘celebrities’ have realised that just following someone for a bit is largely a pathetic reward. So they’ve added a few bonuses into the bargain. Some are quite cool. If you win Neil Tennant for example, you’ll also get his keyboard. Some though, are questionable. Ruby Wax for example. I have always found her questionable, but that has now been exacerbated by what she is offering in addition to the Superfollow. You get to watch her having botox. An event someone currently thinks is worth £102. What is wrong with you? Get some help!

    5.  Richard Curtis. ‘The Boss’ – not my words, theirs – is not even on twitter. But, he will join just to follow you. So let me work this out. He’s not on twitter so he doesn’t have any followers. Which means when he joins he will retweet your tweet to no one. He’ll also mention you in a tweet. A tweet that will be seen by no one. Apart from you and him. Between you and me, I think you’d be much better off paying all your followers 50p to big you up for the day.

    6.  Twittish Logic. I didn’t have to write this post. This post could have been called, ‘7 Reasons Twitrelief Is For Geniuses.’. But it’s not. And it’s not because I haven’t seen any evidence of genius bidding yet. All I’ve seen is twittish bidding. If you have a half a brain cell you should be able to work out that when the bidding page says, ‘this celebrity will become your new best friend,’ they are talking absolute bollocks. Of course they aren’t. They will follow you, do your retweet, give you a mention, then dump you. Which is why you must use the opportunity wisely. So here is a piece of 7 Reasons advice right from our hearts. Ignore who the celebrity is, concentrate on the numbers. How many people are they being followed by? Richard Bacon has the most followers by far. Nearly one and a half million. A genius would bid for him in the knowledge that he would generate more publicity for them. They wouldn’t, for example, bid for McFly who have just a meagre 120,000 followers. But being twits of course, McFly’s bid is over £500 and Bacon’s is £45. And he probably bid that himself.

    7.  Because 7 Reasons Are Not Involved And Quite Frankly We Offer A Better Package. That’s right, we reckon we are a much more attractive prospect than all those ‘celebrities’. And our package is bigger too. Which is why you can now bid for us. Just head over to eBay to bid on the 7 Reasons Non-Twitrelief Superfollow Auction. Rest assured we will give all proceeds to Comic Relief. Thanks for your support.

  • And The Winner Is…

    And The Winner Is…

     

     

    Hello!  Marc here.  It’s Sunday, and now that much of the sport has been watched, it’s time for me to sit down and sift through the entries for the awesome competition that we set last week.  We felt sure that the competition – and the brilliant prize – would inspire many of our readers to wit and brilliance and well, here’s the top three entries (out of three).

    In third place, with this entry is Chrissy Aram with:

    I, a reader of the wonderful website 7 Reasons (.org), would like to win France because I could live next door to my brother.

    Now, I’m not entirely sure what to make of this.  Chrissy lives in England – which is already next door to France – so, unless her brother lives in Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Monaco, Andorra or Spain, this won’t work.  Plus there’s no cricket in France, she wouldn’t like that, and cricket is far better than brothers, as my sister will happily confirm.

    In second place is Rachel Simmonite’s entry:

    I, a reader of the wonderful website 7 Reasons (.org), would like to win France because it would be the ideal place to put my shoes, and it would be a good bargaining tool to help me take over Britain, then after that THE WORLD.

    Now, if I had feet half the size of Central Europe, I’d want somewhere to put my shoes too.  This is an entirely laudatory use of France.  Where Rachel’s entry falls down is the suggested use of the occupation of France to take over Britain, and then the world.  Or THE WORLD, as she shouted.  This has already been tried – by a monobollocular chap with a funny moustache – and it doesn’t work.  I appreciate that her plan differs somewhat to that of Herr Hitler, in that she intends to use France as a bargaining tool, rather than as a picturesque military base, but how would that work?  Would she issue threats?  “Give me the Isle of Wight or I’ll blow up Dieppe!”  I can already hear the massed voice of 60 million Britons saying, “Okay, blow up Dieppe then.  Whatever.”  “Give me the Queen or Nicolas Sarkozy gets it!”  “Bahahahahahha!”  The plan is fundamentally flawed.  Rachel is clearly the Wile. E. Coyote of the Win France competition.

    Winging its way in from Greece (where the exchange rate is 2.5 Greek words to 1 English word) is the final entry that we received – which is also our winner – by Ασπασία Ματθαίου (easy for her to say):

    I, a reader of the wonderful website 7 Reasons (.org), would like to win France because I would be able to stop that awful film overdubbing business which is just wrong. Viewers should be allowed to enjoy actor’s real voices in the way that they actually speak them. Why would anyone want to listen to Orson Welles speak in a silly French tone? I know I wouldn’t. (Individuals formerly employed in dubbing would have to find a new job, in the field of foreign film criticism. Their criticism would have to be written in the language of the film in question. At least 5000 words of it. I think that’s fair.)

    Then I would pass a law whereby all taxi drivers in the area of the land formerly known as France would speak Greek. That would serve them right. And then everyone would be made to count and spell numbers correctly, in every known language in the world. Finally, that same law would clearly state to all taxi drivers that they would have to drive me to and from airports for free, eternally. (Hehehe. That would be great.)

    French politics and sport I would make sure remain the same for ever more. (Yes!)

    Just a final thought.  If my entry wins the competition I might just hand France to Jon. I think he will appreciate the prize better.

    So there you have it.  In a totally unexpected outcome to our competition, France has been won and her new owner, as a result of Ασπασία’s generosity, is my writing partner, Jonathan Lee.  I’d like to thank everyone that entered and, now that France is under new management, I’d like to wish her citizens good luck.  They’ll need it.  And Jon, you may now sally forth across the channel and claim France*.  Though please get your posts for the week out of the way first, I’ve rather a lot on.

    *Remember to put an English-Greek dictionary into your suitcase of baked beans and ginger nuts in case you need to use a taxi.  Oh, and it’s thé au lait you want.  The other brown stuff is something called coffee that you won’t like.

  • It’s Competition Time!

    It’s Competition Time!

    We realised something recently:  We’ve never had a competition before.  Ever (or at least as far as we can remember).  It was quite a momentous moment in the 7 Reasons offices when this occurred to us; Jon almost missed his mouth with a biscuit and Marc looked up from his book about the war and blinked, before returning to it.

    Now, bearing in mind that the last time the 7 Reasons team funds were audited they stood at half a dead spider, a creased Post-it® note, the crumbs from several ginger nut biscuits, twelve business cards, a mug with a broken handle and a lemon, we weren’t expecting to have too much money to spend on a competition, but we had another check anyway and the good news is that we still have the lemon.

    “We can’t offer people a lemon”, said Marc, without looking up from his book, “You never know when we might need it.  In World War II, they used to use them to sanitise cups and utensils.  They also found them indispensable for…”

    Jon knew when not to interrupt Marc.  And now wasn’t that time, “OKAY!” he blurted, with such a ferocity that he surprised himself, “We won’t give the bloody lemon away!  Just in case Hitler comes back from beyond the grave, as mad as hell, and with some sort of new vendetta against humourists, the number seven and cutlery!  Because that sounds entirely plausible!  We’d also better hang on to any powdered egg that we might chance upon too, and our nylons!”

    “Okay”, said Marc dreamily from behind his book, entirely satisfied that mentioning the war had got him out of devising a competition.

    “So the prize has got to be something cheap, or even better, free”, said Jon, failing to recognise that Marc had already decided that the task was now solely in his hands.

    What the hell’s going on?  He’s still talking to me.  Usually he’s taken the hint by now.  Right, I’m going to have to refer to the war again, thought Marc.  “The Free French?” suggested Marc, “In World War II they…”

    “Yes!  That’s it!” exclaimed Jon.

    “What!?”

    “That’s perfect.”

    He didn’t know what was perfect, and frankly, he didn’t care.  Mumbling, “Very good then.  Do carry on,” Marc turned a page and settled further back into his side of the sofa, while Jon set to work putting together his brilliantly conceived and very cheap to run competition.  And here it is.

    The 7 Reasons Competition


    My Lords, Ladies, gentlemen, and readers of 7 Reasons (including Kindlers).  The 7 Reasons team – in conjunction with the internet – wish to announce a competition.  We’re both proud and delighted to offer you, our loyal readership, a big prize, possibly the biggest prize that’s ever been given away in a competition.  We’re offering one lucky reader the opportunity to win France!  That’s right, France!

    Win France!

    We’ve thought about it and it seems to us that, since they divested themselves of their monarchy in the eighteenth century, no one has actually owned France.  And it’s just there, across the sea, waiting for our lucky winner to claim it.  All of this can be yours.

    a black and white baguette
    Food.

    More Food.

    The Eiffel Tower.

    To win France, simply complete the following sentence in a hundred words or less:

    I, a reader of the wonderful website 7 Reasons (.org), would like to win France because…

    Send your entries to [email protected] with “I Want France” in the subject box.  The competition closes on 26-02-2011.  The winner will be chosen by the 7 Reasons team (assuming they’re not reading about the war or eating biscuits) and will be announced next Sunday.  We’ll also be putting the best entries on the website, with a free link to your twitter account/website/anything you’re looking to plug.

    We’re really looking forward to reading your entries and would like to wish all of our entrants bon chance.  And good luck.

  • 7 Reasons I Feel Sorry For Dundee

    7 Reasons I Feel Sorry For Dundee

    I wouldn’t blame you if the subject for today’s post has passed you by. The only reason it didn’t pass me by is because I spend a great deal of my life browsing the world wide web for inspiration. Unfortunately I stumbled across this. Dundee is getting it’s very own V&A Museum. Yesterday, the winning design was chosen. Given the design of the Scottish Parliament Building, I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that it was ugly. Curious as to what this abomination had been chosen over, I took a look at the shortlist. And then I realised I felt very sorry for Dundee indeed. Well, the whole of Scotland actually. Here is that shortlist:

    7 Reasons I Feel Sorry For Dundee

    1.  The Stephen Holl Design. One of the first things you should notice about this is that you access the museum via one of those bridges you usually find spanning motorways should you wish to get from one service station to another. While this is a nice touch, I can’t be so complimentary about the rest of the design. It’s very tall, very thin and appears to be doing a bad impression of ‘the robot’. In other words, it’s a bit like Peter Crouch.

    7 Reasons I Feel Sorry For Dundee

    2.  The Sutherland Hussey Design. What we have here is a box. With a few bits cut out. I used to have a Micro Machines military base that looked very similar. Only that was cool. To give the Architects some credit though, they have realised the error of their ways. That’s why they added a picture of a small boy trying to jump over the wall. I’d probably join him if I was confronted by this.

    7 Reasons I Feel Sorry For Dundee

    3.  The REX Design. The last time I saw something like this, I was watching Superman. Only Superman wasn’t in Dundee, he was on Krypton. The effect, I suspect, would have been very similar though. What I particularly love about this design though, is that it clearly doesn’t have a roof. That’s why it’s filled with water. Genius.

    7 Reasons I Feel Sorry For Dundee

    4.  The Snohetta with Gareth Hoskins Architects Design. I can’t comment on other angles, but from the one we are given above, all I can see is a submarine with a large whale not doing a very good job of hiding behind it. The submarine is also a bit too bling for me. I suspect it will blind more visitors than satisfy them. On the plus side, nice use of the skateboard ramp on the walkway.

    7 Reasons I Feel Sorry For Dundee

    5.  The Delugan Meissl Design. If you are not thinking, ‘Sydney Opera House meets Pyramids meets Lord’s Cricket Ground Media Centre meets Alien Aircraft’ then there is something a bit wrong with one of us. And I am pretty sure it’s not me. Ignoring the design for a second, there is also something unreal about the architects impression. Bright blue sky. It just doesn’t happen in Dundee. As the other images on this page will confirm.

    7 Reasons I Feel Sorry For Dundee

    6.  The Kengo Kuma Design. Before we go any further, let me tell you right now that this design won. That’s right, the Dundee V&A Museum is going to look like an image that hasn’t quite quite loaded properly. That, though, is just about the only criticism I have. Everything else (i.e.: the water, the sky and lack of people with dogs) I love. Good job.

    7 Reasons I Feel Sorry For Dundee

    7.  The 7 Reasons Design. This didn’t make the shortlist, but I still see it as an improvement on all of the above. We’ve gone for ‘minimillistic with a casual twist’. The casual twist is the upside down brick. I can’t see any problems with this design, except maybe the fact that the building sits on the water and we haven’t provided a walkway for visitors. This might just encourage people to visit the proper V&A Museum in London though. So it’s win-win.