Me, myself and eye

As I berate you all about not providing me enough content for this, I should probably back it up with some goods. Well, thankfully this week I found two contributions myself. And best of all they were within ten yards of each other!

I'll ease you in gently with a poster spotted in the window of Krish, which is one of those strange shops that sells ephemera for teenage goth-a-likes and smells faintly of weed and wet clothes. You know the kind of thing.. Pink and black stripey arm socks and Nirvana baccy tins:



Being a speccy myself, I just can't get to grips with this kind of thing. My nan always says "Why don't you get contacts?", as though people with 20/20 vision get a better crack at life. But the thought of poking myself in both eyes every morning, as well as the horror stories you hear about lenses going 'round THE BACK OF PEOPLES EYES puts me off immensly. So people who choose to pop biohazard symbols in their peepers when they can see perfectly well frankly baffles me. Then again, these kind of people listen to Nickelback out of choice so there's no reasoning with them.

But wait! Here's today's real gem. I've heard of this one before, but never seen it with my own pathetically large, ovular eyes:



Yes! Brilliant stuff. Not only a terrific name, but the two bushes wearing Oliver and Stan's hats is the icing on am already superbly filling cake. I did a miniature jump for joy when I saw that. The only downside being that they were parked in a disabled space, but I'll let it slide for now. Just this once, mind.