Burning Poetry

I met a new boy yesterday called Dave in the pub with my regular boy Simon. Simon is the one who bought a paraplegic sex doll off Amazon (no arms, no legs). It got delivered to his parents’ house and he never collected it. Dave said he is always writing poetry, straight up from the heart. He’d just bought a new notepad. “What do you do with them?” I asked. “Collate them into a collection for your kids to read when they are older?” He said he burns them all. Burns them all! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. From now on, after I twisted his arm a bit somewhat about the matter, he has sworn to start keeping them with an anthology in mind. Burns them all!!

I tried to get a big dog 8-ball (bag of coke) yesterday afternoon, after a few drinks in the pub. My dealer didn’t answer his phone for an hour. In the meantime, I convinced myself that it was the wrong idea. It’s just too much money for not enough goods. So I went clothes shopping instead and got a few bargains from Sports Direct. Two Slazenger tracksuits for under 60 notes. I know it’s hardly Lacoste or Armani or Hugo Boss or Ralph Lauren, but you can’t argue with that value for money. Two full tracksuits for under 60 quid! I’m not bothered what labels I wear. My favourite are Champion and Kappa and Fila and Ellesse. We can’t all walk around in designer gear though can we, it would be boring.

My voices call me a black scruff, a black loser, black vermin (because someone put rats in my flat). It’s freaky having people sneak into your home when you are out (and often while you are in too). I had a rotten ginger tarantula under my bed the other week. It’s all part of the Targeted Individual mentality. One of the first lessons is to accept that your home is nothing more than a perp walkway. The very first lesson is don’t bother to run. I’ve learned many valuable lessons over the many years I’ve been tracked, stalked and harassed by electronic weapons. It’s barmy.

Yeah, I was tempted yesterday, but the cooking group I’ve just been to this morning kept me motivated and focused on recovery. It was good fun, we made homemade burgers and wedges. All part of Pathways, CGL (Change, Grow, Live). I bonded with a new woman I’ve met called Joanna, we gave each other a high five when she walked into the room. She doesn’t think I’m a black scruff or a black loser or black vermin; I think she thinks that I’m alright. She’s really nice towards me, and she’s offered to make a packed lunch for me to take with us when we are walking together tomorrow in The Peak District. That’s sweet of her, don’t you think? Cheese and ham she’s making me. Otherwise it would have had to have been a meal deal from the Sainsbury’s. Another thing which stopped me using was a planned dinner date tonight with a Christian couple from church, Tom and Meg. I don’t know what we’re having but I’m sure it will be a special occasion.

 

Vintage Soccer Boots 2012 Style

stitching, signed, mouldies, numbered

wore these for a Cheshire trial in high school    

After a decade and a half of hibernation I pulled them out for a couple of games (funny how all the trivial possessions somehow survive with you while all the important stuff gets lost along the way). Like all well worn footwear should, they literally fell apart on my feet. We’re talking bare toes popping out and soles flapping off. That’s what you call money’s worth. A lot of modern footwear starts to peel after a few months and looks ten years old before you’ve even started to break them in, so no complaints.

The problem now, with modern boots, is that they look ridiculous. They look like pop art. The sheen and the colours are truly atrocious. They only suit Jimmy Savile. I for one wouldn’t be seen dead in them. Since when was it acceptable to wear pink boots? Imagine the added pressure in a tense game whenever the ball came your way. I don’t get how players want to stand out visibly like that. It should be their skills standing out visibly.

The boots I bought back in school cost under 30 quid. The yellow stripe was outrageous enough. Don’t get me wrong, a little colour indicates flair and style. Emphasis on little. A hint. A splash. A stroke. But today’s designers have gone like totally overboard. Rather than dab the boots with paint, they DIP THE BOOTS IN PAINT.

Anyway the point of this is about getting ripped off for brands from back in the day, because now Diadora have returned to JD Sports and if by some chance I wanted to buy a pair of sensible boots with meaning, I could take myself back in time and buy almost the same pair I had in my childhood. How good would that be, if I still played for a team? You see the problem right there though don’t you? I don’t play for a team, so therefore don’t need the boots. And that is my world, folks...a place where even the good news is bad. 34 Skid Row, Endsville.

Oh (and here’s the kicker), did I mention it would cost me 100 pounds for the privilege? They look like a cheap boot, despite the back story. You're paying for the memories, people. They don’t even look as good as the originals, although this changes the more I look at them because they are growing on me with every passing second. Probably not made as well either, but then again maybe they are. But still, at least, if you’re prepared to fall for the overpriced vintage trap, there’s an option besides the majority of pukey luminosity monstrosities currently adorning the shelves. And if you have a passion for the beautiful game, and they last you as long as football boots can, then I suppose it’s worth it. In fact, I think it is. Peeling back the years is mastercard stuff.

£30 mid-nineties...£100 now

The Birkenhead Fingernail

What is the best nickname you have ever invented for somebody? Mine has to be THE BIRKENHEAD FINGERNAIL. It rolls off the tongue, like THE SCARLETT PIMPERNEL. I heard THE BIRKENHEAD FINGERNAIL mention THE SCARLETT PIMPERNEL once. He was exactly the kind of guy who talked about musicals.

He was a lanky middle-aged geezer who wore clothes that went out with the arc. His trainers were HI-TEC. I remember them well because I had a pair when I was a nipper, before my pair of blue PONY. They are so old that they have now come back into fashion. The same goes for GOLA and DUNLOP. These brands are back in bid'ness.

When all else fails in life the easiest thing to do is to resort to insulting people’s clothes and hair cuts. I saw a man with the worst spiky dyed-purple hairdo ever last Friday morning. For years I’ve had this joke were if I see someone I know with a new haircut I’ll say, “Who dunnit?” After they tell me, I’ll say, “Don’t worry, I’ll sort them out for you.” But with this guy I was genuinely interested in what careless perpetrator might be responsible.

Correct, I was tempted to ask an outright stranger who had cut his hair, and not in a flattering way. In a very shocked and appalled way. Thinking back, it looked like a DIY jobbie. And he looked like a maniac. One of those maniacs who produce kitchen knives from the inside pockets of CAPRI SKI JACKETS on the street and hack innocent lollypop ladies to pieces.

But let’s not regress from THE BIRKENHEAD FINGERNAIL. For some reason, in protest against his other nine normal fingernails, the pinkie one on his right hand had been left to grow to phenomenal proportions. He had just a single little fingered nail much longer than all the others. Plus, just in case no one noticed, it was black with grimy dirt as well. I recall he used to go out rambling all day. Mainly around Birkenhead, where he hailed from. Hence the nickname.

Oh and by the way, I saw someone dressing absolutely ridiculous in TK MAXX the other day. And I mean ridiculously ridiculous. Here are some of EMINEM’S lyrics, in the song MARSHALL MATHERS (track 11), on the MARSHALL MATHERS album:

Lookin for Big's killers,

dressed in ridiculous blue and red

like I don't see what the big deal is

Ever since I first heard this I associated blue and red (together) as leaning towards the ridiculous side of the spectrum when it comes to wardrobe colour coordination. It seemed to resonate with me during my bookish season when I was maturing from my all-black phase. Don’t hold me to this though. It’s Eminen’s idea, remember. I’m just saying…

This TK MAXX guy would have made EMINEM p*ss his pants. Seriously. He had red pants, blue top, and a bright yellow jacket to remove all doubt. I had to walk towards him head-on and pass him straight-faced. I actually turned around once he’d passed, stopped, pointed at him, and said aloud to myself, “That guy is dressing ridiculous.” I kid you not. He was that ridiculous.

I have a little more to say about yellow jackets, but that can wait till next time. Ciao douches. Donnie.

Passion for Fashion

We all know the public perception of WAGS shopping all day long. I have a pal who admitted to me that their weekly food shop around the supermarket with his girlfriend would take two hours. Not half an hour, not an hour, not even an hour and a half, but TWO WHOLE HOURS. That’s hilarious, but understandable, if you are hunting through every bargain in every aisle, analysing comparative prices, and deciding upon what meals you want while you are actually purchasing the ingredients.

But the issue here is clothes shopping. No wonder those WAGS need a whole day. Men in general, and especially those who despise lounging around the vegetable sections in supermarkets, will probably recoil in dread at the thought of touring high street apparel outlets, and even more so in a big city where they are spread apart by miles.

Personally, if you have the funds and the time, I don’t see how anyone can not like it. Popping tags – buying new clothes – is scientifically proven to make you feel better about yourself, hence the term retail therapy. The problem, apart from funds and time, obviously, is finding your size, brand, and colour.

The likelihood of all these probabilities coinciding (funds, time, size, brand and colour) is exceedingly rare, in my part of the world. Yeah, I know, you DREAMED of a cardboard box. But tooting hell, why do all manufacturers only cater for large boys?

Whatever you want, they ain’t got it. Well they have, they have exactly what you want, but not in your size. Or they have your size, but not your colour. And the quality’s dreadful. It’s either crinkly or shiny or bobbly or flappy or tight. If it looks like it needs ironing before it’s even left the shop then run a mile. The really cheap stuff looks like it was made from spare tent canvas.

Supposing my 6 numbers come up. You think I’m paying over the odds for designer? Huh. MASSIVE PRICES – TINY SIZES. 50 spuds for a t-shirt? I could have 150 Snickers ice creams for that! As for high street goods, I get the feeling everything gets made in the same eastern factory and then the different labels are stuck on later, like tuna, or beans. Mainstream brands have bottomed out. You’ll be lucky to get an elastic waist or a zipper on your pocket now. Hey, if you’re not gonna put an effing zip on the effing pocket, don’t even bother making the chuffing thing in the first place!

Who can afford to carry cash or cards or keys in a sh*tty little shallow pocket that doesn’t even have a zip? F*ck me man. It’s disgraceful. Not so long ago, attire featured intricate sewing work on proud emblems and badges. Now they are glue-gunned on. XL meant enough room for 2 pairs of bollocks and at least three buttocks. Now, if they even have it, you can’t get a leg in.

Wadda’ya reckon. Do the clothes make the man, or do they just keep us warm?

When you check yourself out in the mirror (don't deny it), what do you see? Gentleman, or wasteman? Have you ever spilled some Lloyd GROSSMAN Thai Curry sauce and Wall's mint choc chip over anything new?

http://piebald77.blogspot.com/2010/06/shopping-assistant-by-cam-lee.html

TRENDY ADVICE by Chubby Chaser

6 million of you out there are cuddly babes! China is working its shocking socks off stitching clothes together big enough to fit you beautiful bitches! Plenty of all you delicious British girls out there rock n roll in a size 16 or above.

In some regions of Halton, reports are circulating that size 20s are hitting the streets with a sexy swagger. Well I should be so lucky to see such specimens! Bigger the better if you ask me.

Rounded frames are cherished by skinny guys in particular, and lest you know, I am a skinny guy! And top designers have you in mind too, my dears. Get yourselves down to London fashion week so you can make an impact upon the glitz industry.

You are only as big as your personal vanity size – this is the perceived reflection from any tall narrow mirror. Take no notice of mannequins in shop windows, because they are never less than size 10 minimum. Go shake it.

Love, C.C

SHOPPING ASSISTANT by Cam Lee

DNM FICTION®

EDITED BY A.MICHAEL

For interview with Cam Lee see 'DNMF Interviews' post in Feb.

Within three seconds of crossing FRENCH CONNECTIONS doorway, Cheryl was pounced upon by shop staff. This particular clerk bore an uncanny resemblance to Dame Edna Everage, and frogmarched Cheryl into a corner at the mention of the word 'dress'. A moment later, they were on first name terms, prior to Cheryl being persuaded into trying on a white number she could tell just by looking would be too tight on the bust. She figured she would stand a far better chance of convincing Dame Edna if she went ahead and tried it on anyway then showed her how small it was, rather than argue, but she couldn't even get the zipper up over her generous chesticles.

Nonetheless, she was told that the zip was just 'stiff' because it was 'new' and would 'give' once she'd 'worn it in'.

"I can't wear white, I'm a guest at a wedding," Cheryl lied.

"Technically, it's vanilla, so don't worry about it."

"Still......I think, er, um......"

"Give me a minute."

Before Cheryl could get out of the friggin' thing, Dame Edna had returned with an armload of alternatives and cheerily informed her about their no risk 7-day returns policy. After just hiding there behind the fitting room door doing absolutely nothing like a mong, Cheryl decided to buy the cheapest item and bring it back at the weekend, when Dame Edna was least likely to be working. It was a red blouse. The price tag made her swoon. This bright idea was meant to be a fast solution, but it was the beginning of Cheryl's problems, because after Dame Edna accepted Cheryl's credit card (with both hands), she then subjected her to a thorough 'mix n match' tour of the entire store, hunting for suitable accessories.

Shoes, shoecare products for the shoes, and jewellery, for the most part, but they did spend some time deliberating the different colours of a Morrocan suede bag. Cheryl's account balance plummeted as Dame Edna complained about the minimum wage and store bonuses. At the checkout, Cheryl was quizzed and questionnaired for a quite unbelievable length of time while 'voluntarily' signing up for a storecard and surrendering her details for a mailing list.

All the way through Dame Edna bumped her gums like she had all the time in the world. Still polite, and all manners, Cheryl thanked her at the end.

"Any time, dear," Dame Edna Everage said. "Glad to be of service."

© Cam Lee MMX

Crimes of Fashion

Most crimes of fashion occur in post offices and batty boy clubs, but the worst offenders can pull it off simply sitting in their cars. Others can be guilty of multiple crimes of fashion at once. Here are both some common and not-so common examples:

1 Tucking a hoodie in
2 Black footwear and white socks
3 Wooly hats with enough free space on top to fit another head in
4 Caps slanted at preposterous angles
5 Trackies with shoes
6 Skinny jeans with belt hanging like snake
7 Blue jeans with blazer
8 Scarfs long enough to wipe your arse on
9 Turn-ups high enough to put your keys in
10 Over-sized pants all muddied and ripped at the bottom

More?

11 Wearing an open shirt over a fastened-up one (my invention)
12 Wearing a vest over a T-shirt (my invention)
13 Fish nets with trainers
14 A watch on each wrist
15 Mobile phone on a string around your neck
16 Ring on every finger
17 Loud Bermuda shorts
18 Wearing all your collars up
19 Footy socks above the knee
20 Dungarees


Girls can do a lot worse than:

1 Purple leggings
2 Rubber boots
3 Sleeveless tops
4 Any variety of suit
5 Bubble jackets
6 Dresses
7 Blouses
8 Tank tops
9 White almost-transparent combat pants
10 And my personal favourite......pyjamas in public & flower in hair

Ladies be aware that Gus Kidney (sorry G!) reckons the biggest fashion crime of all is having absolutely nothing on. That is so not sexy in any way as it reminds him of the holocaust gas chambers. So please......slip on some -