today i found myself in that most disagreeable set of circumstances that every living thing at some stage experiences. that is to say i experienced an instance of being bereft of a lighter, despite having a Marlboro primed and ready to go.
yes, every living thing has experienced this. they have done so in an obvious, direct way such as the trial i faced today, or perhaps in a less obvious, indirect way, such as in a dream, a past life or indeed even in a future life. so do not say "this has not happened to me", because i have just proved that it has.
this set of circumstances, somewhat obviously, required that i make an ad hoc, sporadic if you like, purchase of a new lighter. the excitement of seeing this will no doubt have seen many of you scroll down to look for the pictures that are obligatory to illustrate my tale, so let me interrupt the narrative now as you look at an image of it as seen through the lens of an iTwat.
more on the aesthetics of this later, but for now i shall continue my tale.
i am sure my experience is no different from the one you have had, but should it give you comfort or a sense of solidarity to know you are not alone, let me freely share my experiences.
my departure from home for my travels today was marked my delays. having locked up the premises, i became aware that i had forgotten one of several class Tesco shopping bags i am delighted to possess. this required a degree of unlocking, fetching one of the Tesco bags (the one that features badgers, i believe), relocking the homestead and attempting to start my journey once again.
i must stress that i am not one of those hurdy gurdy, tree hugging, ill-informed, protesting, left-wing, Stephen Fry worshiping, tell everyone else how to live type of twats that insist on using a reusable shopping bag instead of simply getting new plastic ones on each visit to retailers. i would like to think, if not state, that i am probably an entirely different kind of twat. i like my Tesco bag as i like Tesco, very much so. using it here, where we are bereft of Tesco stores, is my little way of saying to lesser stores "f*** you, for you are not Tesco".
as the gravity of that sentiment conspires to keep you bound to this blog as if you were an apple torn between the branch and the ground, here is an image of the lighter taken in Commodore 64 mode with, i believe, the dithering option off.
the efforts to commence my journey were thwarted again by that most cruel of a mistress, the human memory. as i ebbed closer to my car, in fact got as far as opening the door, memory teased me with the temptation of recalling i had left an item that needed to be thrown at the mercy of the postal system on my desk.
and what would that item be? not toothpaste, you may be pleased to here, and indeed not something which is of any concern to New Zealand. it is an item of a pressing matter and is destined for a fellow, proud member of the Empire, and that information is all that i can disclose at this stage.
much of what happened next was a repeat of the Tesco (possibly badger based) bag, except it involved going to the study to fetch the item and several curses of a distinctly sexual overture to the mistress of my memory, berating how i had fallen foul of flirtation.
Commodore 64 mode with dithering on, you request? and a look at the Marlboro? sure.
after, at last, commencing my journey. i reached for a Marlboro, surely the finest of all products Philip Morris is kind enough to give to the world, and reached for my lighter of present use. a gasp of surprise and disappointment breached my control over my vocal cords, for a rummage through my tit pocket suggested that it was free of a lighter. it was unlikley that i had stored it anywhere else, but a quick sort of wiggle wriggle in the seat of my car made it clear that no lighter was to be found in either of the arse pockets of my jeans, or indeed of the front pockets.
why not, you may speculate indeed, oh why not just use the lighter installed as part of the car? because, dear reader, it is about as much use as the one in the car in the film of The Blues Brothers. it's knacked. you can try to push it in to heat and ignite all you want, but it just pops back out with a remarkable instant nature, refusing to do anything.
so that is how i came to own a new cigarette lighter today.
the currency here is of course not the Pound Sterling, but i thought it best to adopt it as a frame of reference. does it, at 43p (R6.95 if you insist) (or about 70 of your American so-called cents), provide value and a decent return on investment? well, yes. it lights cigarettes, as well as can be expected of any lighter. this is something which can be of great use when one has had a borderline traumatic experience with the bakery section of any retailer.
there is of course more to this lighter than that, as these images have already shown you. and, indeed, as this next Commodore 64 style picture, unrestricted or if you like diminished by the lack of scan lines, will show you.
the design of this lighter betrays, in equal measure, the cost of it and the purpose for it being, does it not? it is a bold, stark, artistic statement, the type of which in the 1980s Prince would have paid some obscure prick, no doubt wearing a stupid hat and spectacles of a luxurious, flamboyant style of frame several tens of thousands of any currency to design for use on one of any records he produced during that era. except perhaps Sign O The Times, which legend has features a cover loaded with hidden messages that either no one has found or simply no one has bothered to look for.
the artwork lavished upon this lighter elevates it to both a metaphorical and indeed direct statement of intent, proudly on display in the tit pocket of anyone who remembers to take it with them when they are out and about. it states, in a clarity not seen since someone with a presumably straight face managed to persuade a major motion picture studio to find a seventh Police Academy film despite presumably having seen the sixth, that the owner, or if you will bearer - or indeed perhaps temporary custodian - of this lighter is a keen smoker, and is no doubt quite comfortable with their sexual identity, or is presently wrestling with it.
in certain circles the Commodore 64 mode with scan lines on is an incredibly popular means to present images, so please allow me to bow to this quite understandable if somewhat inexplicable preference.
and so that is how, and indeed why, i have come to own for the moment what is the purple sex lighter of hope. a fitting name, i think you will find, for this item.
the burden of owning this is, alas, one i shall not be able to bear for any significant amount of time after i have completed writing this. it is purple, you see, and so my (considerably) better half will just assume that, like all other elements of the planet that are purple, it is hers. my expectation, or if you like anticipation, is that within the next 30 or so minutes i will use the lighter once more, and then we shall part ways, with me going back to the mediocrity and banal nature of the one i left behind, and the purple sex lighter of hope being shoved in the bag of my (considerably) better half. it happens every time i get a class lighter.
at least, dear reader, at the very least, you and i can look at these images and recall the tale of this most magnificent thing.
on that note, for the nostalgia and romance of it all, here is a picture of it taken with my blueberry thing.
it is perhaps best that i leave this tale here, before i am accused with good reason of over-indulging this matter with further description.
i trust that you have admired this lighter as much as i did, and hope that some solace, if that is what you sought, was found in the description of my exploits today.
onwards, then, to October.
be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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