I seem to be on some ring of Dante's Inferno. Sloped off in freezing weather to the local carboot sale, ignoring two dogs doing somersaults wanting to go out for a walk.
Met at the gate with a notice that the lovely Lorne Spicer was filming an episode of Car Booty today. Almost the minute I walked in, bumped into a colleague of Madam Ex [who was a worker at a group home I had the misfortune to find myself in. Apparently he still remembers my flowing blonde locks.] Blow me down if Faded Beauty [Anorexic Joanna Lumley] didn't appear at his side. "How's your dog?" I spat at out at her beaming face. "Oh she's fine." I walked away in shock at her chutzpah.
My hand was filmed flicking through some postcards, but I'm not prepared to sit through hours of daytime tv to find out if I made it past the cutting room floor. I occasionally got recognised from a promotional video I made years ago, that's enough fame for me. I still had the flowing blonde locks at the time.
I'm always intrigued by the mixture of things people put out for sale, an archaelogical display of past enthusiasms in popular culture. Got a signed copy of "Take It like A Man" for £2.50. No Denby for my collection though, that's what I'm really on the look out for. I've never sold, and they have an area I call the "refugee section" where people can just walk in and sell things laid out on the ground. Most expensive item I ever bought, from a bloke who just spreads it all out on the tarmac, turned out to be a parian figure worth over £100. Go figure!
In the Mirror today the headline is "[Ian] HUNTLEY GOES GAY." I hardly think that a few blow jobs from elderly paedophiles adds up to a "sexual relationship."
In response to A' Nomad's Ian Huntley and Maxine Carr are the Ian Brady and Myra Hindley of our day.
Dogs and I now out to freeze our tits off in the park.