Nothing says, 'I miss you' like a shit ceramic.

Last night my housemate’s car battery died. So this morning I drove us down to Motor World (quite a grand title for what was really just a few reasonably stacked shelves of miserable looking objects) to find a replacement. We found her battery, which weighed a ton, lugged it back to the car and threw it in before going to look at some of the other shops. Neither of us had been to this part of the town before and, in all honesty, I’m not sure we’ll return. The shops were pretty run down and everyone looked like someone had used their face to open a can of beans. Not a pretty bunch, in stark contrast to the beautiful day. Anyway, we popped into the pound shop which I think was false advertising since there was a statue of a dragon which probably came up to my neck (in height) for £499. It was the ugliest thing of the day, which is saying something, and I had no idea who’d buy something so vile. It looked kind of like a gargoyle. But for the home. Horrible. However, all was not lost. I managed to find an equally grotesque ashtray, which had a skeleton, legs-akimbo, sculpted into the base. It was the sluttiest skeleton I’ve seen for a while. For £1.50, I had to have it knowing my friend James would love and appreciate it more than anyone else could ever wish to.

Maybe this needs some explaining. A few years ago, lets say 4 for that is how long ago it was, I stumbled across this ornament which was a coffin. It looked like a container for tobacco or weed or something. It was about 20com long and had a removable lid, which had two skeletons having sex on. The female skeleton (identified by her long hair) was on top of the male skeleton bursting out of the coffin and bursting into her. It was a beautiful sight. So I bought it. James and I thought it was a great idea to take it out one evening and use it as a conversation starter in bars after a few drinks. So we did. We would be sat one end of a table and he would slide it down, with quite a speed, before asking the people whose elbows it hit ‘Is that one yours or ours?’ Obviously, no one ever quibbled that it was ours and we were pleased to hear any suggestions as to what it could be used for. The best was, ‘Ashes for a loved one,’ which was a bit worrying. Anyway, seeing this stunning ashtray, I knew I had to send it to him to let him know I was thinking of him. Nothing says, ‘I miss you,’ like a shit ceramic. Oh, while I’m on the topic of props that we’d take with us on an evening out I remember something else. James had once asked me to record something for him and the only video I could find was one that my Mum had written ‘Princess Di’s Funeral’ on. Reading between the lines, I deduced this was probably the funeral of Princess Diana and recorded over it having confirmed with my Mum that she had fulfilled her taped funeral quota for the month. I then met James after work and handed him the tape. After a few drinks, the sliding of the video began as did the drunken, ‘Is that yours or ours?’ It was great. Someone asked him, ‘Why are you carrying that around with you on a Saturday night?’ To which he replied, ‘Just in case.’ The man kind of nodded and backed away like we were about to burn him in a shellsuit.

Anyway, there’s something about ceramics that I have an attachment to. When I was working, every Friday my friend Hannah and I would pick someone in the office to buy a gift for with a value no greater than £1. We would drive into town, her hands sweating in anticipation (mine because they were always sweaty) and race to the charity shops. On a 45 minute lunch it was quite an impressive feat to hit each of the 765 charity shops in the high street to ensure the quality of the gift was the highest. Then we would race back to work and present said gift. This was usually met with a look that said, ‘What the fuck is that?’ But we insisted that the ornament took pride of place on the person’s desk. Sometimes this took the persuasion of a used car salesman. In fact, most of the time it did. For some reason, no one wanted a grubby china pot with a dead eyed girl lounging on the lid. Even the filthy boiled egg cover with a tabby cat on the front didn’t have a high demand. Some people don’t know quality when they see it. Some would argue two of those people were Hannah and I. We would argue quite the contrary and often did when threats to throw our gifts in the bin manifested.

My advice is, if you know someone who is a bit low, bit of a sad sack and needs cheering up go and find the ugliest thing you can and hand it to them. There is a split second in which they think you’re serious and then a laugh, which is definitely worth the £1 spent. It’s great and I think every office should have a Charity Shop Friday. Just steer clear of underwear. We once saw a sign that said, ‘Due to hygiene reasons we no longer exchange underwear’ but that’s another story. As is one in a sex shop saying, ‘Unfortunately we are unable to refund or exchange non-faulty dildos and butt plugs.’ It’s grim those signs have to be made in the first place, I mean WHO RETURNS THOSE THINGS?! Ugh.

xx