Even the bird poo took on Godzilla-sized proportions on Hove beach front lately. I was wondering why I hadn’t heard any screams from all the sunbathers running away. Guano that size must have come from some fire-breathing dragon. The seafront railings had clearly been singed. I took a closer look. No, it was rust. Then I realised the poo was an art installation. No one screams at art anymore. I’m surprised these giant haystacks – another way of looking at them – didn’t blow away. Stuck down as hard as the Donald’s toupee.
Nothing seems to shock us anymore. Not even the cost of Sir Keir’s freebie glasses – £2000 is small fry these days.
Do you have a parking space going? I actually have four – they came with the house. But the space isn’t big enough for the motorhome I’m planning on purchasing. I know luxury campervans when I see them. Not these paltry-sized Scottish ones. I’m thinking a 33 ft Winnebago with guest bathroom and king-sized bed. Something you can see from space. The parking space must be a bit out of the way – I don’t want the wife to know, you know.
Because keeping cash in the bank has gone the way of the suitcase under the bed. What with Rachel snooping around and the paltry interest rates. So, holding the keys to the Conservative Party safe, I thought it would be wise to put our meagre resources into something a bit more creative. Wealth doesn’t have to be as literal as actual money. The UK’s doing just fine without it.
There’s nothing qualified about my delusions of grandeur. I have a degree in it. I was still at university when I took Amanda to The Savoy. In we waltzed like a couple from Notting Hill, she all in denim, to be plonked round the back of the piano. Afternoon tea? We just said yes – well, a full fat coke for me – without running our eye down the menu. Those were the days. I only had 80 quid in the bank which I was frantically portioning out all through the meal. Still, I wasn’t counting quite so closely each mouthful of the fish and chips we had later on in the park. Then Sangeetha and I, while we were students at Sussex, could never decide between the bar in The Grand or the one in the Metropole. Student finance – mum and dad – went further back then.
But I’ve been running out of ideas on how to max out the party credit card. There are only so many amber necklaces from Two Feathers the wife can take. And I’ve run out of cupboard space for any more salt and pepper grinders. You know it’s all downhill when you get excited about shopping for salt and pepper grinders. Except if they’re Robbe & Berking Leon Sterling Silver Salt Pepper Mills at £3,135.00.
I read somewhere recently that someone had bought a £60 bread bin. But why buy a bin when you can buy a bread crock? I did think that for £300 it came with a year’s supply from Gail’s. But the fact it was advertised in House & Garden took the sting out of my disappointment.
I have to say, unlike Nicola Sturgeon, the Tory-bashing ex-leader of the free world, the wife did start to ask questions when I bought myself a £75 Men’s Slouch Pouch Onesie. We haven’t got that kind of money – she went on about it all night. I think she was envious. But it did take her mind off the new Damien Hirst in the kitchen, although I think she’s taken it for a damp stain.
Bought that, champagne in hand, at the avantgarde Helm art gallery last weekend surrounded by the pink-shirted cognoscenti of Brighton. Definitely a different species from those middle-aged hipsters round the corner at Caravanserai I can tell you. Surely art will be a sound investment. It also takes up less space than posh crockery. A lot of it looked like it had fallen off the back of a container ship from Brobdingnag – you know, the land of the giants from Gulliver’s travels.
I couldn’t make up my mind – should I buy the giant framed sculpture of a sachet of mayonnaise – without the mayonnaise; the King Kong-sized rizla wrapper; or a hefty plate with selected swear words etched round the rim?
Not the kind of art you’d find in John Lewis. If only I’d had another couple of grand on me at the time. Trouble is, I did have a couple of eyes – and I couldn’t believe them.
Alistair McNair is Leader of the Conservatives on Brighton and Hove City Council.