It's a ruddy disgrace, that's what it is. Brand new shoes. BRAND new brand name shoes. I'd only worn them once, then I put them in the food processor and they were ripped to shreds. It's appalling; I'd sue if only I lived in America. All the stitching was ripped out, can you believe it? My feet are gonna be soaked the next time I walk through water. That's the last time I buy flip-flops from a street vendor just because they're £26 cheaper than they would be at the beach. For my trip to the opera I had to wear my hiking flip-flops instead, it's freakin appalling. They were so freakin heavy, and caked with mud and faeces. Hiking flip-flops to the opera? Whatever next? Opera flip-flops when hiking? Can you freakin believe it?
Y'all have flip-flops in America, right? Polystyrene foot shape with plastic V nailed to the top. A wonderful invention, a sandal for the masses. The proles don't have food processors like us rampant capitalist pigdogs, so have all the goodness and purity of the flip-flop without the carnage and emotional trauma that I had to go through. I'm a rampant capitalist pigdog now, did I tell you? It's a money thing, you wouldn't understand. I'm keeping in touch with my roots, getting to know the true me, travelling to India to smoke some freaky shit and find myself. I'm still of the people, by the people, for the people, thrust, rinse and repeat, it's just that I now have a food processor and money, and will only jump about to Kyyria and Barkmarket if no-one's looking.
The question is no longer "Do you have any naked pictures of your sister?", but rather "Should I buy opera sandals or opera flip-flops?" Do I look upon the shoddy quality of the merchandise as a helping hand, a karmic pish if you will, into my new life drinking champagne from the beautifully manicured kneepits of beautifully manicured and nubile women? When I walk into the shop, plonk (from the Latin plonkare meaning to plonk) the shredded opera flip-flops on the table, do I say "Good morning my good man..." or do I say "Good morning Miss..."?
Moving on to a new paragraph for reasons of breaking up a huge body of text rather than a change in subject. After the m/f (you callin' me a mofo?) question do I say "Please replace these with a similar pair of opera flip-flops, and hopefully one that can withstand the pressure in the veritable goldfish bowl that is a food processor," (Y'all heard about that art exhibition in London which was ten goldfish in food processors, and we the pubic were given the choice to press the blend button or not. True story. Absolutely true. About three of them were puréed before those damn vegematarians complained and got it stopped). ...Or do I say "I'd like to replace this atrocious attempt at a pair of opera flip-flops with a pair of opera sandals. If you had any desire for customer satisfaction you wouldn't charge me for the upgrade, but I appreciate that your company sucks the cracked nipples of four-time World Cracked Nipple Champion Sam Abernac, and so am fully prepared to pay the extra 73p." If you, you, you the people could do me the privilege of appreciating my quandary I'd be most grateful, and I might even spring to letting you borrow my deodorant. You might need to pick off a couple of hairs, but free deodorant is nothing to be sneezed at. Pepper, now there's something to be sneezed at - sneezing powder too is something to be sneezed at - but deodorant is nothing to be sneezed at unless you're allergic to it.
Ummm... I guess that was an election broadcast on behalf of George W(endy) Bush, and y'all should vote Ralph Nader or summat. Or for the English folks, oooh that Guy Fawkes eh? Bet he didn't have opera flip-flops. Canadians can nail polystyrene on their moosen and all the rest of y'all can move to a country more willing to impose its will on others. Night y'all.