Monday, 24 January 2011


I love Ghostbusters more than 90% of the population of the planet. So i was mightily pleased to receive a pair of Ghostbusters branded pants from Santa Claus himself( in actuality my niece).

Pretty sweet EH? Primark generally do a good wearing pant and have exceeded expectations with this festive/supernatural offering

Thing is this is the back of the pant, and the front of the pant ( where my gentleman's teabags live) are adorned with the following legend:

Now given that this is the area where i store my *ahem* Proton Pack i suspect that either someone has just pulled an amazing example of Getting Shit Past the Radar or ( the more likely of the two) Primark is a spastic. You Decide

Sunday, 16 January 2011

Fucked up childhood expectations.

As a young child growing up in Derry we were privy to a world of confectionery and toy products that, simply put, were not available to us. We got advertising on TV from England that allowed us to dream of enjoying such exotic fare as "Vimto" and "Penicillin". The few American comics that were available led to any number of trips to unlikely shops and enquiring if they had any "Kool Aid" or "Chips Ahoy". We were promised Transformers toys that never materialised (although to be fair a robot that turned into a microscope was a bit crap anyway). Film and TV showed us images of space food that we would never taste. What the fuck is a Twinkie anyway? They were golden days of the imagination where we could dream of eating a "Moon Pie" thus distracting us from whatever the fuck awful shite we were actually eating (probably stew sandwiches). Endless evenings spent watching Kurt Russel in Overboard and imagining exactly how delicious a meal composed of Spaghetti-os and Ritz crackers would be. Great days. Great days.

But those days are long gone. The internet and cheap commercial flights to the States have killed those wonderful dreams. I can not describe the horror I felt as the
long awaited hot dog from a street vendor in New York ended up tasting like Fritz'ls cock. Hershey's chocolate was rotten. Blaster might as well have turned from a robot into a pile of shite. Disappointments one and all.

I always thought the idea of Cheez Whiz sounded amazing. Cheese. In a can. That you spray. Mazin. Never tried it. Did not want to spoil it. I have acquired a tin of this wonder substance and it has sat unopened for the last two days because I did not want to
kill childhood. I am however going to eat some later on and share the experience with you, the reader, that your dreams of delicious 1980s food might die too. Wish
me luck and check back later.