Luxury pie

Tell us about the one luxury item you wish you could afford: 

I do not want a big house – Too much unnecessary housework and too many spare rooms in which to lose stuff. I have a two bedroom flat and I still can’t find the driving licence that I lost in 2008.

I do not want a fancy pants car – No one will ever let me out at junctions because they will assume that the car is being driven by a tosser. I know it because I do it. Battered old Ford Fiesta with a wing mirror held on with duct tape, a bonnet two shades lighter than the rest of the car and a “Glastonbury 1994” sticker in the back window: here’s a lovely big space for you to pull into…Mercedes, BMW, Porsche or any four by four: here’s the bonnet of my car, 3mm away from the bumper of the car in front. Don’t even bother trying to make eye contact, I wouldn’t look in your direction if Matthew McConaughey was in your passenger seat, shirtless with an apple pie in one hand and a spoon in the other uttering the phrase “Ah’m needin some help with this here pah, y’all”.  Alright. That’s definitely a lie. Screw the space Mr Fancy Pants Car Driver, you’re welcome to it. Come to Momma, Matthew.

I do not want a horse – Is a horse a luxury item? Don’t you have to pay quite a lot of VAT on luxury goods? Yes, I’ve just carried out some dubious wiki-research and I would have to pay VAT on my luxurious horse. Unless it was a “live animal for human consumption”, in which case, it would be exempt. I do not want an expensive horse who is alive and nor do I want a slightly cheaper pile of horse burgers. 12 months ago I might have been able to do something with them, but now, not so much.

I do not want an expensive handbag – Question: Will things I put into it disappear into the handbag black hole of doom, never to be retrieved when you actually need them? Answer: Absolutely. Example: “Does anyone have a pen?” “I do. It’s in my handbag. My lovely, expensive, luxurious, handbag. Hang on, I saw it a moment ago. Just a tick, it’s here somewhere [sounds of rummaging]. I think it’s fallen to the bottom. Oh, wait a moment, it can’t have gone far [sounds of rummaging and exasperated tutting].  I didn’t realise that I had gum. What’s this? Here we are. Oh no, that’s the one that doesn’t work.”  The handbag black hole of doom also works in reverse; [In middle of crowded supermarket, after being within reach of my handbag for approximately one second]: “Auntie Jelly, what’s this?” [Proudly holds aloft tampon for entire supermarket to behold].

So, in conclusion, the luxury item I wish I could afford is Matthew McConaghey. And a pie. And don’t y’all go worrying about a spoon, I think I’ll manage.




3 thoughts on “Luxury pie

  1. Pingback: All I Ever Wanted Was An MG Midget | The Jittery Goat

  2. Pingback: Daily Prompt: Keeping up with the Jones’ | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss

  3. Pingback: Keeping up with the Jones’ | Life as a country bumpkin...not a city girl

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