I hope you guys appreciate the trouble I go to for this blog. Yesterday I was busted in Rhyl, while trying to take some super awesome and rad photos for your perusal.
There I was, having a grand old time sniggering at crappy knock-offs and taking the odd photo on my phone, when a woman snuck up behind me:
Woman: “Excuse me.”
Woman: “Can I ask why you’re taking photographs?”
Me: You can ask lady, but I’m fucked if I’m going to tell you. “Erm, well, it is for some people who aren’t with me, so I can show it to them.” Technically not a lie. “IS THAT OK?”
Me: Slopes out of shop to go sit in a cafe and eat toast and laugh at woman.
And that is how I nearly ended up doing 10-20 in the big house. More likely, the woman probably thought I was from trading standards, and was going to grass her up for her crappy money laundering shop. Lady, if you’re reading this, I don’t give a fuck about your nefarious business practices, I just want to laugh at your shit merchandise.
After that, I had to employ some super covert ninja tactics to take photos, but I got there in the end.
Anyway, here is what I managed to capture for posterity from the various objet d’art emporia around Rhyl… Continue reading “The Rhyl Shit Toy Showcase”
It’s time once again to delve into the murky underworld of questionable adverts aimed at housewives and the stupid. Today we have dead fish, cutlery by post, and some kind of Alex Salmond dog. Strap yourselves in lads…
1. The Biothythm Hotline
Have you got not enough biorhythms? Or too much biorhythms? Well this is the hotline for you! I think this is to do with getting health and XP. Other than that, I’m fucked if I know. It’s not as good as the Cones Hotline. Continue reading “Vintage magazine adverts part 2: twirly vaginas and forks by post”
I was going to write this last night, but I ended up playing The Deadly Tower Of Monsters instead. Do not judge me. Anyway, last year I inherited some old issues of Woman, Woman’s Own, Women’s Realm, Woman’s Wank etc. Because I am such a go-getter, they’ve been in the boot of the car for months. Now I’ve remembered to get them out of the car, I’ve discovered a treasure trove of people and companies trying to sell your their shit.
I can’t really figure out how to categorise these adverts, so I’ll just put up a random bunch at a time. For part 1, are you ready to collect thimbles and hear what Margaret Powell says about chicken? Me neither. Let’s go!
I turn to drink regularly, but not because I’m off my food. Sadly, I’m never off my food. Therefore, I shall never require the services of milk with this weird powder in it that “wheatens food in the cup”, whatever the hell that means. Continue reading “Vintage magazine adverts part 1: stretch covers and raising the dead”
I was rummaging through my files earlier this week, and I came across some photos showing me at my snotty, mulleted best.
The first is of me radding out like the Queen of Radland:
Please note my banging Turtles ensemble, complete with what I think was a shit knock off Turtles baseball cap with a transfer on it. Could also be Rainbow, I had a few. I wish the ‘Computer – enhance!’ thing they do on TV really existed. Continue reading “Some childhood photos I found”
You know how it is – you stayed up late last night, because you had to watch American Gladiators at midnight, because you’re poor and don’t have a long play video recorder. On top of that, you’ve got PE this morning, and you don’t want to run around in your cullottes losing at rounders with your fat on display.
There’s only one thing for it – start developing that dicky tummy you definitely had last night. Maybe you had some gone off turkey drummers? Or maybe you caught something from your friend who your mum thinks is “a bit common”.
Whatever – you’re now at death’s door and can’t go to school.
Continue reading “How to pull a sickie”
Idents are fascinating aren’t they? By ‘fascinating’, I mean ‘hideous and disturbing a lot of the time’. Having said that, I’m not much of a judge of what’s scary – when I was a kid I was terrified of Max Headroom, and an antiques shop my dad used to take me in.
My mental defects aside, the world of idents is a strange one, one where the creators appear to have carte blanche to spew out the contents of their nightmares, as long as it gets people’s attention.
Here are 10 idents that have helped shape me into the rational, well adjusted adult I am today. Continue reading “10 terrifying idents”
Hello, how are you? I am fine. I won’t lie, this one is just an excuse to crack open my old Argos catalogues again. It was raining outside and I was trying to avoid the dog, so I started pissing about with them in order to look busy. I thought it might be fun to show you all the cool and rad duvet covers I found.
As a kid, your duvet performs many important functions:
- roof of a den
- something to sulk under
- status symbol
- playing ‘sausage rolls’
- something to lie under while drinking Lucozade and gazing disinteresedly at Kilroy
Most of my duvet covers were hand-me-downs from my older sisters, but that didn’t stop me flicking through catalogues, dreaming of being able to cover my bed with Sonic the Hedgehog, She-Ra or similar. And now I’m 34, so I am only allowed to have flowers on my duvet covers. It is the law.
Anyway, take a look at these bad boys…
Action duvet covers
Continue reading “Duvet covers of the 80s and 90s”