Place: Flea Market (10p entry- put your money in the bucket dear)
In attendance: Me, boy, several old people and a man in a smelly cardigan
Reason for being there: we saw a sign that said 'Flea MarkEt' (the big 'E' intrigued me.)
Typical fare: home recorded VHS tapes- £3 each!, Cakes, Stamps, some really crap junk.
We approach tombola. Like IKEA merchandisers, the canny flea marketeers have made it impossible to get to the exit without first passing every cack laden stall. Sweet old lady standing next to a sign saying she's collecting for disabled dogs persuades me to part with a pound. Son, playing the game, dutifully takes 5 tickets. As he unfurls the first I scan the 'prizes'. I don't know whether to laugh or cry- I see a half burnt candle, a chipped glass, something that looks like one of those things you pee in when stuck in a hospital bed... Each has a raffle ticket attached.
'You win a prize if your ticket has a 5 or a zero.'
Boy not only wins two prizes but he also bags '700': the star prize! Woo Hoo
It's a hand driven shredder that doesn't work but is a nice colour. I give the woman another quid for the box and we run before she foists another 5 tickets on us. Still haven't worked out what the other thing is. We think it may be some kind of anal probe.We're just about to shred a baby and some paperclips when we notice the warning on the side:
The fact that it won't even cut paper is immaterial- if I'd caught my hand or my tie in that machine, nothing would have stopped me winding the handle till I was strangled or had a mincemeat hand. Thank God for warning labels.
1 comment:
Well written article.
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