Sho Nuff Yes I Do

Tag Archives: Charity Shop

I like collective nouns. Who doesn’t, right? A flamboyance of flamingoes. A charm of goldfinches. A murder of crows. A wank of actors.

It occured to me that come my seventies I am going to be one of those women who have to be lifted by crane via the roof of my house because it is so full of junk and trinkets. Small children will come and point and laugh at me as I am hoisted into the air, still trying to grab hold of my wedgewood teapot shaped like a fucking pig or something. Teens will take pictures on their phones which – it being the future and all – will be instruments the size of a pinhead and capable of nuclear deployment. Some reporter will take a sleazy ‘upskirt’ shot as I dangle over his head, and the headline in the Sunday Sport the next day will be ‘LOOK AT THIS MINGE’.

I’ll have filled my utility room with stuffed animals and bad taxidermy and the firemen trying to get through it will have to use axes to break down the doors.

In short, MY LIFE WILL BE AWESOMER.

As such, the collective noun for charity shop items bought and stored is a HYPERBOLE OF JUNK. Here is some more. Look at it. Look at it. LOOK.

 

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Who’s this sinister motherfucker? Those brown eyes say ‘puppy’, the face says ‘I will eat your soul while you sleep’.

Tin £3ies.

wpid-20140406_115627.jpgI call this still life. Because I just do alright? Ugh, stop asking me questions, you’re not my mum. LEAVE ME ALONE!

Tactile, sexy Mug = 50penctons

Original erogenous Flask = £1.0000000

Oil Painting Erection = £2pounds

wpid-img_20140406_140336.jpgIt’s a candle featuring the original and still the best Mary I can think of. (Sorry all other Marys. Maybe you’re doing something wrong? Have you considered immaculate conception and the bearing of the Son of God? Thought not. That’s why you’re not the greatest Mary. You need to up your Mary game don’t you? Lazy, aren’t you? LAZY)

Mexican candle for Drink and Drug Addiction (says so on back) £1!

wpid-img_20140406_132602.jpgVintage fabric which I have made into a curtain in my kitchen to cover the hole beneath the worktop as it invokes lustful thoughts in the hearts and minds of decent men and also because I stuck my washing machine in there. £1ne poind.


wpid-img_20140406_132945.jpgA tiny wee jug, handpainted and so cute I could paint some eyes on it and call it a kitten. Pointless though. Utterly fucking pointless. Fifty pesticles.

wpid-20140406_131707.jpgFuture me will be cryogenically frozen for the sole purpose of coming back in a thousand years when all travel has been reduced to sending a hologram of yourself on holiday and I will dig out this old suitcase and point to the label on it thus and bore on and on and on about how times have changed like a withered old windbag while my great, great, great grandchildren make wanker signs behind my back and ask people why I smell.

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Dude the eighties called. They’ve taken out a restraining order against that rad suede and leather butter soft batwing cropped jacket with the shoulder pads you bought for £8 today in Help the Aged. That shit’s so fresh think you’re going to need a lawyer.

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Here is a montage of this jacket, eighties style. <‘Turn It On’ by Kim Wilde plays>

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I love this enamel teapot. It’s happy. It’s got a Tetris design going on, although I saw the face of Hitler in a scone earlier so I’m not the best judge of patterns and shit to be fair.

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Happy pot, 99p. Oxfam.

“Nee-naw Nee-naw we’re the style police, and we’re arresting you on suspicion to WOW.”

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You know what? I like this dress. It’s dinky and sweet and look-at-me-I’m-a-kinky-librarian but also the material is that heavy duty sixties stuff which feels like canvas or a brillo pad. Also the dress weighs forty pounds so I get tired in it just getting up the stairs. I’ve been sat here in it for nineteen hours. Send help, I can’t lift my arms. Still, £6.99, also Oxfam.

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Sorry! What? Sorry! You what? This could go all on night. If you remember this version of the game ‘Sorry’ chances are you also remember rationing, Chuck Berry and homosexuality being a crime punishable by prison in the UK. The thing I love about this game is the unapologetic bluntness of the marketing. ‘Play It And Be Glad’ it demands.

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Read the Important Notice from the Instructions. If you’re playing it for more than twenty five minutes YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG YOU CLUELESS PROLE! Don’t expect to enjoy the first four games very much, just get them over with. After that you will achieve near orgasmic levels of JOY and ENTHUSIASM. Read EVERYTHING SLOWLY and carefully in as many different TYPESETTINGS AS we CAN muster. Sorry! the game, just twenty pentagles.

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