FIRST HERE’S A REMINDER TO ENTER THE BEST LOOKING READER 2007 (BLR 07) COMPETITION, IN ORDER TO WIN SUCH AMAZING PRIZES AS FREE SEX, A PERSONAL TRIBUTE AND £10. TO ENTER SEE DETAILS HERE.
On Tuesday lunchtime I’m walking around and as I’m determined to get myself an inappropriately large TV, I go down Tottenham Court Road, which as you know of course is the street with all the electronics shops. So I look at a couple of places and realize that the smallest TV I can realistically get is 46 inches, because anything smaller than that is just tiny and definitely not fuck-off enough. And I definitely want fuck-off.
Then I spot the one that I want, my TV, the TV that will play a thousand episodes of Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Frasier, the televisual equivalent of Josh Lewsey. And that TV is a Sony KDL46S2530 with an LCD screen coming in at 46 inches.
So I take a picture of that TV and later in the day I go online and research prices and it seems that the shop I saw it in has the lowest one. Saying lowest of course is relative, because it’s still the single most expensive thing I will have bought, edging ahead of my watch which had held the record previously.
And on Wednesday lunchtime I go and buy the TV. I’m making this sound effortless and easy, but of course it isn’t – I’m very good at buying clothes etc, but I’m crap at buying anything electronic. Every time I’ve bought a computer in the past I’ve asked somebody else to do it for me (Andrews, Mean). I mean, I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say to the salesperson: am I supposed to ask about specifications and technical features? Whatever their response is it will go straight over my head.
My particular concerns for the TV are: a) can I connect my Greek satellite dish to it, b) will porn look life-size on it, c) where can I hide it when my Dad next comes to visit. As I don’t think the little guy in the shop can assist with any of those, I walk in and my opening line involves something about the Sony TV in the window and when they can have it delivered to my place.
This seems to work and a short 25 minutes later (the guy is a real idiot honestly) I walk out, the proud owner of a big new toy, which will be at my flat on Saturday some time between 1100 and 1400.
On Friday I go to work wearing my England rugby top and I have big, effortless hair and the beginning of a good tan (courtesy of a sunbed session on Monday plus careful application of tinted moisturizer every day since) and I don’t just think it – I AM Toby Flood.
We've seen the England top before but here it goes again - front and back.
Of course because I’m wearing an obscene rugby top everyone in the office has a comment to make, but I’ve heard it all before and I’m prepared. Sample conversations:
Guy at the office 1: Did you have this top before last week or did you buy it then?
Me: I’ve had this 4 years actually. I bought it at the last world cup in 2003, so yes I did jump on the bandwagon, but at least I jumped on the bandwagon 4 years ago.
Guy in the office 2: Who’s your favourite England rugby player then? (I suppose he is trying to catch me out because I’m foreign and gay and therefore don’t deserve to know any players)
Me: Josh Lewsey (Little does he know that because I’m gay I know all the rugby players – but for the wrong reasons)
Finally, with regard to the BLR 2007 competition, we’ve been having some problems with the rule that says you can’t enter if I know you in real life.
Both Mean and Ace have tried to enter and I’ve refused them both, something which has turned them both bitter. This email conversation occurs between the Lads (Matty, Mean, Ace and me) on Friday afternoon:
Mean: “He's being quite insistent on this 'people I know' rule. I sent him a picture of my hairy boobs yesterday WHICH HE REFUSES TO ACCEPT as an entry”.
Me: “If I were accepting entries from people I know, you would have no chance of winning anyway, because my friend Anthony has also offered to enter, and he’s the muscliest, cutest little blonde bunny with perfect white skin since Josh Lewsey*”.
(*this is true, see picture below)
Matty: “You say that as if Josh has died”.
Me: “If Josh had died, I would be in the crematorium right now molesting the body”.
Matty: *head sinks into hands*
And as promised here is Anthony, and right below me, copying his pose so we can make comparisons. See? Flawless white little muscle bunny (aka Josh Lewsey lookalike), versus London Preppy (aka Toby Flood wannabe); I know which one I prefer.
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