We are currently in the grip of a cleaning frenzy at the Temple of typografika. When I say cleaning, I really mean discarding the posessions of the offspring and Mr S. to accommodate my own newly acquired things of loveliness. The charity shop lady screamed....actually screamed...(presumably with delight) when she saw Mr S.'s Y-front collection. Obviously a fellow collector of the foundation garment that keeps on giving. I daresay she washes her's though...
It was whilst I was prizing the fingers of the offspring from their toys that I espied a large and weighty book, secreted behind a column in an area of the temple that is rarely used (except by the temple monkeys). I wrestled with the conundrum for a while.... extra thick marigolds and a high dosage tetanus shot afterwards or...I deftly swang the bag of pork scratchings in my hand, into the darkness behind the column and watched as Mr S. sped past me and hurled himself into the gloom, wheezing in a most unbecoming manner. He slid the tome out into the light with his foot and was lost to us for at least ten minutes, in the darkness, as he savoured the porcine bounty. I set about preparing the Milk of Magnesia for his return.
When at last the offspring had cleaned the book (it took their mind off the loss of their toys) and monkey urine can focus the mind for quite some time - (and the nostrils, what has Mr. S been feeding them?) - we gathered together in the central chamber of the temple to look at the ancient volume.
The offspring gasped as I opened the cover. Obviously the Jif hadn't quite done the job it was supposed to.
'Those aren't raisins Mr S., its monkey sh..' I offered, just too late, as he reached across to pick up and eat a handful of little epicurean delights that had rolled out from the spine of the book. I set about preparing some Milk of Magnesia for his return from the bathroom.
The book was fascinating. The title, skilfully tooled into the Keith Richards Brown hide, was 'The Ancient and Quite Mysterious Compendium of Typografika'. It was, in short, a treasure trove of typografikal delight and enlightenment.
Now I would like nothing better than to share that enlightenment with you, dear follower, but to share the knowledge all at once, with one not used to such delight and rapture, would result in madness (the sort of sweating, boggle-eyed madness that can follow being in Asda for too long). However I can impart some of the basic principles from the Compendium, at regular intervals, without your little brains exploding, so brace yourselves;
THE FIRST FIVE DUBIOUS AND MYSTERIOUS PRINCIPLES OF TYPOGRAFIK EDIFICATION
i) A really cool and stylish bag is very difficult to come by, so when you see one, whether for yourself or for a loved one, you must buy it straight away. Food isn't a necessity, (theres plenty of overflowing bins around) - bags are. Satchel - 39.99
ii) Men have only rudimentary olfactory organs and consequently no sense of smell. They therefore need to be given scented candles in specially blended gorgeous male fragrances to develop their withered glands. (and they can play with the box). Mens Candle - 12.99
v) Coalition governments work really well.
To see more lovely things in a less dubious context and with absolutely no monkeys visit www.typografika.co.uk.