Friday, 10 March 2017

Rainbow Insanity...

Colours, but not as you know them
For some unknown reason - possibly insanity - I found myself wandering the isles of B&Q recently. This is an extremely rare occurrence because I cannot stand DIY stores and will avoid them at all costs. I'm just going to say it out loud: the only sort of DIY I'm into... well, it doesn't involve depressing, fun-free stores that reek of body odour, depression and dysfunctional marriages.


It doesn’t help that my handy-man skills have all the grace and charm of a flatulent hippo with ADHD. Try as I might, I just cannot do the most straightforward of DIY tasks. Shelves? Forget it. Besides, I don't know if anyone has told you, but ornaments actually look shit and no one is that interested in looking at your books. Not really. A bit like your holiday photos: no one really cares. As for plastering? I can't even spread butter over bread without the end result looking like an aggravated assault.

The erection (tee-hee and guffaw, etc.) of flat-pack furniture is the worst. Just thinking about Ikea is enough to make me break out in hives and go on the rampage with a tube of mastic and a spirit level - mainly because I don't know what else to do with them. The end result is always the same: the job rarely gets finished in the way that the confusing, badly-written pamphlet demands. I always end up with bits left over that have nowhere to go, yet seem important. Like large chunks of wood, more screws that you can shake a stick at and a set of alan-keys that have gone untouched through the misery that was construction. I often always have to rely on my talent for bodging to get things completed. Take the last thing I attempted to create: a CD case. The manual said that the job should 45 minutes. It took me six hours over the course of two days. During this mission, I cut myself three times, nearly took my good eye out, said the eff word a lot, lost a third of my own bodyweight, resisted ransacking and looting my own bedroom and considered throwing all of my CDs away. Then I saw sense and got help from a girl.

And so, at 10am last weekend, I found myself parking up outside the local B&Q. In other words, high doom. I'd like to tell you that I was hiding out from the rozzers or even dogging but, less interestingly, my bedroom needs painting. I'm flirting with the idea of a ‘feature’ wall, which sounds horribly pretentious, but will look rather lovely when it’s done. And at least this way, I get away with only painting one wall rather than four. Win-win, etc. But what colour? Hmmm…

After consulting the colour charts, it appears that in the years that I have happily remained persona non grata in DIY circles, things have changed beyond recognition. All I wanted was a tin of red paint. Dark red to be more specific, but it doesn’t exist anymore. If you want red – normal red I mean, like fire engine red - you have to ask for a shade of red called DIVA. Yes, DIVA. All capital letters and shouty. I was a bit intimidated just looking at it, to tell you the truth. It gets worse though: if you want to go a shade darker, then there is no point asking for a litre of burgundy. Oh no. You need to request something called CRIMSON LIPS. I can just see my Dad coming to visit and admiring the freshly painted wall while I come over all theatrical (for a change, like) and say, ‘Here, Daddad, do you like my CRIMSON LIPS? I was going to go for DIVA, but thought CRIMSON LIPS was a touch more moi…’

Now, I understand that the people who produce the paint charts have to get creative with names but some of the names I saw today were just fucking ridic. For example, can you guess what colour SUNDAY DRIVE is? It’s white. Why they can’t just call it white, I have no idea. If you wanted to go a notch towards cream, then what might you ask for? Beige? Magnolia? Don’t be silly. The answer – obviously – is CHESHIRE HIGH JINX. I shit thee not. If you wanted to go a touch whiter instead, what have you got? Brilliant white? Angel-Jizz White? Er, no. The answer – and I’d sit down for this if I was you – is VINTAGE FROCK. I wonder what size that comes in?

Can you hazard a guess as to what colour MAYPOLE MERRIMENT is? I’d naturally opt for brown (fnaarr!) But no. It’s beige. And what about FUZZY SLIPPERS (yes, really). Well, that’s beige too. A bit more towards cream. In fact I’d call it creamy-beige, but I’m  dead common, me, so it’s hardly a surprise. Poor old beige really has been reinvented and then some: it also masquerades under the following names: SPOTTED DOG (snigger!), CREAM TEA IN THE COUNTRY (chortle!), TOWERING FAƇADE (cackle!), MINCE PIE (oooh, yum) and REAL CIDER (ugh – I once threw up after a night on cider and now the mere suggestion makes me retch.)

The people who came up with these names must have been off their tits at the colour christenings. How else can you explain dumping the name ‘orange’ and replacing it with CONSTABLE’S TRUNCHEON? The green family has also been remixed beyond what seems absolutely necessary. What I thought was olive green is now called… NAUGHTY CROCODILE. A much paler green – which I’d call, erm, pale green, is now strangely named FAMILY GATHERING. What’s green about a family gathering? My favourite shade of green, though, has to be UNEXPECTED CAY, which I initially read as UNEXPECTED GAY, which is why I liked it in the first place.

What’s next? I can just imagine next year’s chart. Beige could take on several new identities altogether – I’m thinking PISSED UP TRAMPS FART or LIDL RABIES FOAM. We could revive blue as SUMPTUOUS HYPOTHERMIA; yellow could be TWENTY A DAY TEETH and my favourite shade of green will be called KERMIT IS A CLOSETED ALCOHOLIC.

Oh dear. It’s all too much for me. Looking at a rainbow will never be the same again. In fact, I think to lie down whilst I assimilate this new information. Either way, I don't think I can be arsed to decorate. It's too much confusing and stressful.

Until next time, take care people.

Lots of love,

Johnny CRIMSON LIPS / DIVA Pants.

No comments:

There was an error in this gadget