The year is 2 0 1 4 and instead of being pleasured by Erotic Robots (Roboerotics?) and carried around in a sedan chair made of bullet proof tinsel I am sitting on my tired arse typing this with my old fashioned meat n’ bone digits.
What a let down you are, The Future, you vast unknowable nothing.
Because I am a dunce whose accumulated knowledge could be printed on the side of a lolly stick with room for a punchline, I just typed ‘What is the future’ into Google and it just showed me a picture of Dappy and his hashtag tattoo over and over. Here it is, in case you missed it.
The reason he had a HASHTAG TATTOOED onto his FACE was so that his fizzog is ‘always trending’. Fucking actual hell. Do you hear that sound? It is the past, sobbing. Didn’t I teach you anything, it asks, even though it is an abstract and without form. Didn’t I teach you anything? And the answer is, yes. Yes you did. You taught me that clothes from the past are cheap, and look rad.
Case in point. Here is Dorothy Perkins dress circa 1981, with me in it. Hummingbird print + Shoulder pads = The Lost Tribes of AWESOME (£3ish pounds)
This tie is from C&A and features the sort of garish nightmare you can expect after a day spent on the waltzers and snakebite and black. C&A? Cool & Ace, more like. (A poundle)
These shoes are from the local car boot which pitches up every Sunday in a wintery car park where the assembled Gollums and lycanthropes finger through boxes of mass produced china chanting ‘How much, how much’ over and over and it is BRILLIANT. (Two poundickingtons)
This bag was also from the car boot sale and is where I keep my aura when not in use. (A five wad)
This Swatch watch is real nice and all but I forgot that I don’t wear watches because the incessant ticking reminds me of imminent death and the Countdown clock, of which I have a phobia. Mortality reminder, £4.
These boating shoes! I asked the man selling them HOW MUCH and he said a pound a shoe and then had to prise the two pounds from my grip as I struggled to work out how much I owed him. Boating Shoes. (PRICE UNKNOWN)
I have bought too many shoes for fucks sake.
This shirt is my nervous breakdown shirt. You can tell when I’m feeling mentally fragile because I slip into this noisy little number. So eighties that it’s a trigger warning for the film Dream a Little Dream with Coreys Feldman and Haim. (HOT SHIT, THREE POONDS)
This vase, and all these vases. I was told that having a house full of vases was good for your love life but here I am, still waiting for the Dickocalypse.
This bag, containing a small wooden village. Aside from being amazing enough to want to roast and eat, it also makes my cat look like Godzilla when he walks through it. CRUSH! (Fifty pentangles)
Years ago, when coins were square and our ancestors were eating moths alcoholic drinks had their names on them in cutie pie ceramic badges because, old things. Anyway. I will make this into a necklace in my twilight years and just point at it whenever anybody asks me anything, ever. (One ponce)
Hello, these cups. Hand painted Swedish sixties era teacups so heart breakingly fragile it’s like crushing a bird between your thumb and forefinger. (Two poinds for real cash)