Since Boris set up his bike scheme, the bikes with the flashing front lights, I’m sure I’ve noticed more non-Boris bikes than usual with missing front wheels, saddles and handlebars. Outside the charity shop on the Finchley road, four bags of home taped videos have surreptitiously been moved away from the charity shop to the rubbish bins opposite, where their labels are getting the writing smudged by the afternoon rain. For some reason the charity shop don’t want videos of ‘Bridge over the River Kwai’ taped off ITV. C'mon charity shop people, you've got to speculate to accumulate. The video owners were probably turned away from the landfill site by the same sanctimonious people who work in bookshop chains and ask you if you want a plastic bag, daring you to say yes so they can glare in self-righteous disbelief at your lack of care for the planet. The people getting rid of their entire video collection must have been compelled by 21st century recycling guilt; you can’t throw anything away these days. It doesn’t matter how much tat is produced make sure you recycle it.
I was suffering from this in the eighties. I once took Brut 33 deodorant to the charity shop, hidden amongst more worthwhile goods. It was a christmas gift that had been on my shelf for 3 years. Not any Brut deodorant though, it was the gift pack which included eau de cologne, a dark green face cloth emblazoned with the Brut 33 logo and maybe even soap. I reckon it was snapped up, who wouldn’t want the refined, spicy, lavender, amber fragrance? This masculine scent that possesses a blend of citrus top notes with hints of spicy woods, who could possibly refuse?
As I head home the videos are no longer by the bin. Maybe they were biodegradable. Later, I swear I see the Mayor of London in a local park digging a huge hole behind a tree and throwing down bike parts, while laughing like Dick Dastardly. Could have been someone else of course. Maybe he's got the bags of videos to chuck down there too.
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