All the way from Vegas, baby!
It’s a strange marriage when you hit the Spring/Summer, and yet the recession is still looming large. Something doesn’t quite fit. The cruel financial winter suits the actual seasonal Winter, mainly because poverty seems much more vivid when it leaves a smear of cold on a fallen businessman’s cheek. The same cheek that used to press down on fine silken sheets, or the one that used to lie drunkenly on the naked breast of a colleague from accounts. It used to be such a cheerful, podgy cheek. Now it’s gaunt, sweaty, taut. These are mean times. Which is why we adore it when we hear about excellently found bargains. Just this weekend, our good friend David had one heck of a time in his local charity shop. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so bright and hot,” he confessed, fingering his Lilt, “so when I saw this old Las Vegas visor, I snapped it up.” Judging by the pictures, it’s a terrific piece of headgear, complete with suggestive symbols of gambling, like dice – so appropriate during times of panic. So come on, David, how much for this stylish, poignant purchase? “A quid!”