THING: IKEA
If there’s one thing that doesn’t really change in this crazy world, it’s that big blue box with the yellow writing on it by the side of the motorway. No matter how bad things get, you can always sit on a POANG, put your feet up on a PFFFFT, lean gently against a BODGNÖG and eat 26 hotdogs (which, let’s face it, is the only reason you went in the first place.)
Although it’s more Swedish than a Volvo driven by a herring, IKEA is now an intrinsic part of British culture. We go there for our furniture and our entertainment, we go there for comfort, when we’re bored, when we want a vicious argument about bathroom accessories. It’s hard to imagine a time before IKEA, but I’m so old I can remember when there was only one branch in the UK. It was in Warrington, about 25 miles away from where I lived, and every so often we would take a trip to see this Scandinavian wonderland of semi-disposable flatpack wizardry.
I was a sullen teen who didn’t want to be seen dead with my parents, but I can still remember how different it was to anything that Britain could ever offer. We lived in a world of the Argos catalogue and MFI and Axminster carpets the colour of dog vomit. Basically everyone’s house looked like the prizes in Bullseye. Yet here was another way to live - relaxed, chic, light and colourful. And there were also MEATBALLS.
Even now, on a rainy day, the prospect of IKEA can be exciting in the lowest of low key ways. If you asked me why I liked it though, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Because it’s fucking boring, really. I mean, it takes about 3 hours to get round it, and just when you think you’ve finished you’ve got to go through the godforsaken Marketplace and basically start again, and then if you want furniture you need to go into the warehouse and figure out what aisle your MALM is on, and by the end of it your brain and eyeballs are so overwhelmed you feel like you’ve been hit on the head with Thor’s hammer (£8.99). No wonder they have to give you sausages on the way out.
Mind you, I just found out they sell these for 75p, so I’m going to have to go back again next week.
VERDICT: Occasionally PLOPP but also quite SMEDSTORP, really
THING: Tax returns
I’ve never filled in a tax return myself, because whenever I see one my eyes glaze over and ‘Bird’s Eye Potato Waffles, waffly versatile, grill em, bake ‘em fry ‘em ‘eat em, waffly versatile wooop oooop!’ starts playing in my head on a loop.
So for many years I’ve employed an accountant to do it, who does not share my sense of humour, barely tolerates my inability to count and stiffly signs off ‘KIND REGARDS' when I once again fail to understand the concept of capital gains tax. I think he actually hates me, but I love him because my maths skills are on a par with a five year old. Without him, I would probably be doing community service with Shakira, picking up litter in the Asda car park.
But if you’re sweating and dry-eyeballed right now, trying to get it done before the deadline, looking at your receipts and wondering whether you could possibly claim a kebab you ate on the bus against Travel and Subsistence, know that I am rooting for you. YOU CAN DO THIS. And at least you’re not 👇
VERDICT: P(oo)60
THING: Cetaphil Gentle Skin Cleanser
When people start talking about their skincare routines, I don’t really know what to say, because I don’t actually have one. In fact, there are probably horses or people in comas with more advanced skincare routines than me. My go-to (as you were asking) is a huge pump-action tub of Cetaphil face wash. Sometimes, because I’m very razzle dazzle, I follow this up with Cetaphil Daily Moisturiser. I know, right? For more tips, subscribe to my channel!
You might notice, though, that there’s a pink banner on this that says ‘New and Improved’ but I beg to differ. The old Cetaphil, which looked even more like the kind of thing a dying person would have by the side of their bed, did not make my skin feel dry like this one does, but the problem is I bought a HUGE one because it was reduced, and my social conditioning tells me I must use it up before I go in search of an alternative. (Now I write this down, this strikes me as one of the many reasons why I’m not rich, famous and dewy-skinned like Hailey Bieber or Gigi Hadid.)
If anyone reading this has been similarly affected by the ingredient change in Cetaphil, please meet me outside Boots for an impromptu demonstration, OR if you know of a skincare routine for rapidly ageing, sensitive, rosacea-prone skin that even a horse could understand, let me know. Ta.
VERDICT: Pump and dump
Laughed out loud today! Brilliant.
You do make me chuckle 🤭