Getting this new range of sofas up and running isn't half tricky you know. You get the design nailed, and then need to start all over again when you come to choose the fabrics. However, I think that after many painful weeks of deliberation, I have finalised the design that is going to turn you all into millionaires -unveiling (wait for it) DAH DAH............... The Cow Seat!
Ok, I am jesting! But seriously, look at it - some designer has obviously spent ages perfecting that design, carefully having it manufactured and then lovingly photographed. They probably even stood back, head tilted slightly to the left, thinking admiringly 'yep, I am proud of this one'. I wouldn't mind seeing the results of the Ink-Blot Tests for this individual.
Then there is this one below. I kid you not - I found this sofa on a proper design website. Yes, someone has seriously designed a sofa made from sand-bags. Now it might be me being old-fashioned, but isn't the art of design supposed to encompass at least some form of aesthetics? Again, it might be me, but I can't see anything aethetically pleasing about a sandbag. Nor can I see any aesthetic synergy arising from the fact there is more than one sandbag.
Mind you, what would I know? I am the type of person who walks around the Tate Modern saying 'I could do that'.
Talking of which, I went to see the installation (picture below) that caused all the controversy at the Tate a few years ago. The gallery paid a couple of million pounds for a pile of bricks that the artist had creatively named 'Pile of Bricks'. To be honest with you, it was rubbish.
Mind you, the cow that was cut in half was cool. I felt a bit sorry for the cow at first, but apparently Damien Hurst only bifurcates his bovines once they have already departed this planet.
Back to reality, my friend Josephine (known her for donkeys years and she has a cool job too) is coming over for dinner tonight. Actually, I will show you a picture of her because she is in magazines, and I take great delight in taking the mick. She will kill me if she sees I have posted this picture, but I know she is crap with computers and will never find out! ha ha! (evil laugh).
In fact her partner Dave, came around last night until I booted him out at 12.30pm - can't they afford heating round their house or something?
But anyway, I digress. I jumped into the car to drive to the supermarket and ...... nothing ...... zip ..... zilch......the bloody car wouldn't start. So I cussed, and huffed and puffed, called it a heap, and got the RAC to look at it, and they told me...... wait for it......... it didn't have petrol in. How EMBARRASSING is that when you are a trained engineer? I lowered my head in shame I did, and then tried to pretend that it wasn't my car.
So instead of 'bring a bottle', Josephine is having to 'bring a canister of petrol', otherwise I am trapped in West London with no visible means of escape.