Blow me down with a feather, I thought cockneyily, as I stared through the window of the charity shop, my snub nose pressed up against the glass. That’s a rum little porcelain jar and no mistake.

Of course I didn’t think that at all, as I am neither familiar with Cockney rhyming slang nor am I an orphaned urchin from a 1950’s musical.

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I bought the jar though. For £1.50 why wouldn’t I, right?

Roll up roll up and look at this BAD BOY I bought for my daughter for a few pounds. A whole Playmobil Circus set featuring these colourful characters. But are these clowns sinister or just plain EVIL? Only you can decide.

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Looky here at this lovely brooch. It looks like something which dropped off a Romany wagon in the early part of the 20th Century and for that reason I was SOLD. For just £1.

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Yes, it’s a velvet blazer. I last wore one to a Levellers gig with a fringed skirt with fucking mirrors and bells on it or something so here I am trying to be grown up in it, and fighting the urge to recreate the heady days of 1992, smoking pot pourri out of my bedroom window, trying to get high. Blazer, a cool fiver.

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