Terrorists on Hemlines

                          



So a week on and I have nought, zero, nil, zilch in the way of getting a job. I literally have £20 to my name. (Now £19.20 because I’ve just succumbed to a Gregg’s sausage roll.) It’s OK, I’m filling up my days - and not just with pastries. Yesterday I visited my local shopping centre, scowling on the periphery at all the consumerists who could afford clothes, DVDs, CDs (yes I’m old school), wondering whether I’ll ever be in a position to make the transition from charity shops to TK Maxx. Top Shop is the Holy Grail and way out of reach. You see, apart from providing dynamite groove gear, I hate to say that charity shops selling clothes leave me feeling slightly icky. Some of the items are so dusty and musty (exquisite rhyming) that it looks as though they were all donated by Miss Faversham. (Marvel at ‘obscure’ literary reference).  Although there are gems. I remember once stumbling across a patchwork skirt covered in Che Guevara and Fidel Castro’s faces, spewing out revolutionary rhetoric across the hemline. This was when I was fourteen and thought it cool to like borderline terrorists. I wore it almost every weekend with relish, twirling around, making the ‘terrorists’ dance. Communism was looking very appealing to me. Unfortunately like Communism, the skirt had had its moment to shine and then quickly led way for further progression. Namely red hair and flared jeans. In my fantastical world of teenage revelry it was the 1970s, all right! Anyway, thus began the end to my love affair with charity shop clothes. Although there was a darling green waistcoat in Barnardo’s the other day…….OK, enough with the futile digression. The point is I have no money, no job and, due to lack of fresh oxygen, I am starting to acquire a pasty pallor worthy of Twilight. I’m not going to merit that unfortunate series by referring to the character my pasty pallor is worthy of. The whole thing is merely Twilight to me. Stupid, corporate, crooked smile, inappropriately toned torso on a pubescent boy, Twilight. Girl who has no taste in men, Twilight. Girl who chooses between necrophilia and bestiality, Twilight.  You get the picture.