Selfridges, that is. Today. Starts.
Swallowed Yoda, much?
So we know what we’ll be doing this lunchtime. If we hadn’t spent all our money on booze, those shiny golden coins you get from Liberty, poppers, kittens, the Unconditional sale, the never-never, pounds, shillings and pence, crinoline skirts, knock-off RayBans (we do have the real thing, but we’ve lost seventeen pairs in as many days and there’s only so far momma’s purse will stretch…), Haribo, Boots No.7 Serum, aqua, cerveza, coca-cola, poor people (really. Our friend ran somewhere and everything for them. Whatever for?), Living TV (you don’t get that with FreeView, do you? We haven’t been duped, have we? We’re not homos, are we?), good hair, shorty-shorts, statement socks, Ariel Excel Gel (really does work at 15 degrees! Not that we’d ever be so reckless), just gorgeous things, and c) and d).
If any of our highly covetable homosexual disposable income was left, we’d be there.