I love them. They force you to wear things that are a bit different. You cant come out of a charity shop with clothes that make you look like every other mulleted loser walking the streets.
Admittedly sometimes you end up looking like the regular kind of loser, but on a sliding scale, you still win.
Yesterday in the charity shops I bagged myself a fully French red roll neck top with white horizontal strips that shall shortly be attacked with a pair of scissors to make what I’m hoping will become ‘quasi cool’.
Put that with the Harris Tweed jacket that I picked up for £3.50 and you are looking in the eyes of Bargain Central.
There is a brand new BMW 6 series parked around the corner from my house. Drug Money – I can’t imagine how they managed to afford that – Drug Money – must have a really sweet job – Drug Money – maybe it’s just on really long term credit – Drug Money.
I have two weeks today of university left.
I predict that until this time you will have to abide with posts which contain nothing more exciting that the colour of my hair or how many staples I used that day.
Two weeks. Not even enough time to finish a course of antibiotics.