Here’s the latest addition to my happy family, Mr Hero Fighter:
I’m confused. Is this guy a hero that happens to do fighting, or does he fight heroes? Are we supposed to be the bad guys here? I doubt it, for three reasons:
1) The packaging specifically orders you to “save the world”. You wouldn’t do that if you were the bad guy. I think you’re supposed to do this using your special light. Maybe you threaten the bad guys in Morse Code.
Continue reading “Corner Shop Crap: Power Wrongers”
Lads, oh my god:
I’ve always wanted a horse, but I can’t get one because I live in a first floor flat. And now you tell me I can just make one? This is smashing news. I’ll be able to ride it round, and give it carrots, and do whatever else it is you do with horses. Polish it maybe.
My horse is going to be called Alan. Alan Horse. That’s a good name. I wish I was called Alan Horse. Continue reading “Corner Shop Crap: My Lovely Horse”
My local shop is one of those independent curiosities, packed from floor to ceiling with off-brand jars of sauce, dusty bottles of beer, and a terrifying ’10p basket’ on the floor, featuring a selection of expired Birds trifle kits.
Halfway between the warm bottles of pop and the till is a rack full of knock-off toys. This toy display has been a source of fascination to me since I moved here, but I’ve never bought any toys from the display, because I’ve always been too busy buying wine and laughing at ‘Big Wazzers Dinnerladies’ on the top shelf.
Until today! Today I couldn’t hold out any longer, and I spent actual money on some objets d’art. I won’t tell you how much money, because it’s embarrassing. Let’s just say that the total, including some other bits, was £8.02. And also I’ve just remembered that you can see the prices on the packaging. I’m a twat.
Anyway, let’s examine one of these fineries in more detail…
Continue reading “Corner shop crap: Alan Shakespeare”
The other week I bought the 1980 Daily Mirror Book For Girls, because I am cool and great.
Although I’m not as cool and great as the girl on the cover, who is doing the universal hand gesture for “look at how cool and great I am. This guy, right here”.
A traditional feature of hastily cobbled together cash-in books is the ‘A-Z’ section, and the Daily Mirror Book For Girls is no different. The first item in this book is ‘THE ABC OF BEING A GIRL” – a comprehensive guide to having a fanny in 26 easy steps, providing those steps mostly involve apples, and that whoever wrote this is quite bad at spelling.
Before we dive in, I should point out that I keep nearly shortening ‘Daily Mirror Book For Girls’ to ‘DMBFG’, but my brain keeps wanting to write ‘DUMFUK’, because I am 12. Sod it, that’s what we’re going to call it from now on. Continue reading “The ABC Of Being A Girl – Apples and Hitler”
You know what every little girl wants? They want to be taught the finer points of creating a fucking Tinder profile. Someone has finally decided to address this issue in handy game form, and the result is ‘Princess Tinder Wars’.
I’m not sure this game is official canon.
Continue reading “Let’s play Princess Tinder Wars: Elsa has herpes”
In the olden days, kids used to have things called ‘hobbies’.
A ‘hobby’ is loosely defined as ‘an activity your parents order you to do because they’re sick of you running round yelling when they’re trying to watch Spender’.
If left to my own devices, my hobbies would have included the following:
- picking my nose
- mixing all the shampoos in the bathroom together to make ‘magic potions’
- forward rolls
- saying ‘willies’ then laughing uncontrollably because this is hilarious
This wasn’t enough for my parents, who endlessly strived for excellence on my behalf. As such, I was bought various improving activities to do, despite the fact that my parents had met me.
Let’s have a look, courtesy of the 1992 Index catalogue my parents seemed to use as their own personal Harrods, at the various ways parents tried to shut their kids up for half an hour.
What Index said: “Create beautiful designs at the turn of a wheel. Mix and match each outfit, rub the outline through, colour it in and cut it out.”
Reality: Rub across the entire wheel with your orange crayon because you’ve lost all your other crayons, ending up with a design for an obese hi-vis vest. Still feel like Vivienne Westwood. Cut out hi-vis vest, become confused when it won’t magically attach itself to your Barbie and has to be sellotaped on. Barbie now looks like shit. Continue reading “Arts and crafts in 1992”
Hello. How are you? I am fine. Hoping this finds you as it leaves me. Recently the mister and I have been binge-watching Coronation Street from the 80s. If you’re wondering, this has been accompanied by lots of tea and lard – the food of my people. It has also been accompanied by a load of booze, because how else were we going to do really banging Mavis impressions?
Anyway, we watched so much Coronation Street that we came up with a shit drinking game, here for your perusal. The rules of the game are as follows – have a drink whenever any of the following occur. Alternatively, have a drink whenever you realise you’re sat there watching old Coronation Street on Youtube instead of making loads of money, which you should be doing at your age. Then cry a bit. Then eat lard, which makes everything better.
– Mike Baldwin orders a large scotch. In the middle of the working day. (Drink a large scotch.) Rita orders a vodka and tonic. In the middle of the working day. (Drink a vodka and tonic.) Emily Bishop orders a tomato juice. (Drink literally anything that isn’t tomato juice. Please.)
– People only ever refer to Billy Walker as “Billywalker”. Bonus drink if he even refers to himself as “Billywalker”. I presume his full name is ‘Billywalker Walker’.
– Mavis says “I DON’T REALLY KNOW!”. Fun fact 1 – she never fucking says this. Fun fact 2 – I think she does say this once. See if you can spot it (10 bonus drinks if spotted). Fun fact 3 – despite joining the Coronation Street cast in 2014, Les Dennis has never played Mavis.
– You find yourself saying – out loud – “I love Derek and Mavis. I want one.” At this point, also stop drinking.
– You see this fucking thing behind Rita:
Bonus drink if you find out where it went.
– Someone goes upstairs/on holiday and IS NEVER SEEN AGAIN.
– You really want to go into that mysterious back room in the Kabin, to buy all the ‘records’ and ‘videos’, because you’re sure they sell porn in there. On record. You’ve probably had quite a lot to drink by this point. Continue reading “The 1983 – 1988 Coronation Street drinking game”