In the past it was April and the ‘spring clean’, but now due to the absence of proper seasons combined with self-righteous internet folk and the constant desire need of the masses to take advance from a complete stranger (ahem) on how to change/improve your life – it’s time to declutter/go minimalist in January.
Helped along by a fruit-bat Japanese woman who thinks I should thank my tatty old boxers for their long standing support of my tackle.
Not. going. to. happen.
Some tackle yesterday, but neither supported or thanked.
In the old days; like most things, this was a lot easier and simply known as ‘chucking shite out’ and was often done by your Mum – usually when you weren’t around to object.
‘Those original boxed star wars figures you were saving ? Well you weren’t obviously playing with them, so I gave them away to the (annoying) kid down the street ….’
The Ig; being a Northern male, has understandably unique abilities.
These cut through the modern crap that is our present world, and I will explain how to do this properly – and the only thanks you will need to give is to me. Won’t turn down cash mind though ….
It also involves a good scoop of bevy as well.
Night before – get skip delivered/car ready – clear boot of car out and park it as near as possible to your ‘sorting zone’. Should be ready without distractions for putting crap into it.
Drink booze. Your choice, your limits. I won’t judge.
Remember though we are looking for the sort of grumpy, pissed off, bit of a headache hangover tomorrow – but still physically capable of lifting and throwing things.
Not the vomiting your guts out, crying for your mum/lost Star wars figures sort of epic. Maybe stay off the spirits.
Wake up – drink tea/coffee, take painkillers. Bacon rolls are on hold till the jobs done though. Move ALL your the crap to the sorting zone. This needs to be as far from it’s original location as possible.
Now applying the the Ig’s 1st rule of work:
Hangover + work to be done before breakfast = total absence of sentimentality in any form.
Throw it all in the skip/boot of the car.
You really want to keep that broken bit of crap ? Going to carry it all the way back to the loft are you ?
‘But, in the future I might’ … IS IT worth taking it ALL THE WAY back up three flights of stairs with your pounding head? No, thought not.
Get it chucked son.
It you have any worrying ideas that you (or another foolhardy soul) may retrieve or start to re-consider your actions- get our your favourite fixing hammer and get medieval on it shouting ‘why, for the love of Cantona’s upturned collar did I buy this pish in the first place ? Was I shopping on hallucinogenics ?’.
Hit your finger as well for extra penance.
Now drive to tip / get skip collected and then get fired into your well earned dead pig on bread/tasteless vegetarian alternative.
Lie on the sofa with another brew/big block of dairy milk, watch the football and congratulate yourself on another job well done.
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