Monday, 30 August 2010

Annie’s Flex ‘n’ Fold Punk Ironing Board

Annie the punk rocker had a problem. She wanted go to the Clash concert to make a nonconformist statement, but she also wanted to impress Joe Strummer with the wow of her threads. She decided she would have to iron her green shirt – the one with the black and blue finger-paint daubings – lest it appear too shabby in the glare of the club.

Ironing is not an activity favoured by most nonconformist punk rock enthusiasts, especially in the era of social unrest in which Annie exists – the ‘80s splayed before her like a slob on a slab. First of all, she would have to acquire an ironing board, which she did by visiting the B&Q across the street from her flat, which we assume is in London.

As she attempted to unfold her new Bosch Swivelsteam XV4 model, failing to unhook the rail from its safeguard, an idea came to her. When the railing bucked up and stabbed her in the chest, the idea was confirmed. She would wear the ironing board to the concert. Sod the shirt! What could be more nonconformist than wearing the dull appendages of domestic life to punk concerts and exposing them as bourgeois shams?

Fastening a series of tight knots around her chest and the base of the board, she would carry the board around on her back like a bag. (Fig. 1). Whenever she released the catch, she would be propelled into the air and the board, if leaning against another punk enthusiast, would be tilted at such an angle that she could see above the mohican hairdos and view The Clash in all their splendour. (Fig. 2).

Of course, like all visionary ideas, it was soon copied by her peers, and mayhem ensued. (Fig. 3). Oh well. Back to the, um, ironing board.

Fig. 1

Fig. 2

Fig. 3

P.S. Midway through drawing these figs, Annie changed her name to Alice. "Much more euphonious" was the reason. Mad wench!


  1. What I want to know is:

    a) Who the hell is Alice? (Fig. 2)

    b) Isn't Alice in Chains, rather than on/with/around ironing board?

    c) What are the chances this would ever happen to me, considering
    i) I don't own an iron
    ii) I do own an ironing board
    iii) I don't listen to nonconformist punk

  2. What I want to know is:

    a) Why does the lead singer in the Clash have a small erection and a big mohawk in Fig.2, while he has a bigger erection but nonexistent mohawk in Fig.3?

    b) 所以除非知道品種

  3. Astute points. I ought to sack the artist. Then again, I drew them, so I can't sack myself. Maybe I could bequeath the blog to someone more adept at drawing. Then again, this is a writing blog. So maybe I could give myself a warning instead. I'd like that. That would turn me on. I could conceal my arousal with a mohican wig (like Mr. Strummer in Fig. 3).

    Natsikebzu: I'm going to assume your second point is something nice about penguins. I love penguins.

  4. CC: I forgot to answer your questions. How rude. I always do this. Bloggers feel shunned. I felt shunned on your behalf. Anyway.

    a) Regard my postscript! I love postscripts. They help us escape from any situation. I like to abandon long-term relationships and leave my explanation in a postscript somewhere on the kitchen table (behind the butter).

    b) Golly. I have a history with Alice in Chains. I listened to their LP "Dirt" and was almost physically sick. This band represents the lowest point of the so-called grunge craze of the early 90s. They celebrate their drug-fuelled nihilism. Which is STUPID.

    c) i) You have no iron? I did not picture you as someone with creased clothing. Then again, you might tidy your garments through the flattening method.

    ii) I will start an appeal for you. Or you can have mine (in lieu of the potato giraffes. You can't have both!)

    iii) You must have overheard some punk. That makes you a punk. That's the rule! You must go out and gob on a grandmother. At once!

  5. I was unchained from my ironing board three years ago.

  6. It is with great sorrow I report that a wonderful opportunity was wasted here. My question should, naturally, have been formed as: "Alice? Alice? Who the *bleep* is Alice?"
    It was a great hit song that shaped the world the day I was ten years, three months and five days old. Or so. I never did get what the bleep meant, though, so I was grateful when it was replaced with a proper fuck.

    Besides, since you added a post script (the usage of the word post is starting to confuse me, I must admit. Is it still a post script even if the script it is post to is a post? Does it matter whether you are a postman? Or if your name is Pat? And what has post-modernism to do with any of this?), the point of my post script ignorant comment is post. Passed. Past?

    Further, I do not condone of penguins. I also find it hard to believe that you have a history of Alice in Chains (as I pictured you to be the folk-singer/song(bird)writer kind of guy). Thus are our prejudices. I am wearing a wrincled shirt and an ironing board as we speak.

    And it wasn't a criticism of your drawing. It was an accurate observation of what modern art has come to in this post-post-neo-postmodernist times. (I naturally assume the art world is a couple of steps ahead of us in the number of posts.)

  7. Blogger ate my comment? Oh, nay! I was working myself into a mad rant about post-post-neo-post-punkmodernism. Daggers and glares.

    Anyway. The essence of the comment was this: WHY OH WHY didn't I write "Alice, who the *bleep* is Alice?" instead? It would have taken me back to my childhood when I for a few short weeks spent a lot of time wondering what *bleep* meant and then a few more weeks being relieved when I realized it only meant fuck.

    Oh boy, I think I just made your blog PGsomething. With a little help from my Uzbek friend, of course.

  8. Never fear. I read your comment via email. I savoured it with relish and other condiments. No. Relish isn't a condiment. It's an, um, relish. Next time Alice will be a giraffe with even larger sausage-or-accidental-penis limbs. That should please our Uzbek friend.

  9. PPPPPS: I put Natsikebzu's second comment into Google translate. The result (from Japanese) was "Tomomichi reason except non-breed".

    Hmm. In Yahoo translate: "Reason removal non intellectual road kind".

    I detect an insult in there somewhere.

  10. Oh glory. Then all my hard work was not lost.

    As for Natsikebzu, I couldn't pretend to know anything about that. I don't even know if he sprechens Google or Yahoo, or Japanese or Chinese.

  11. *falls over* so I married a punk, and the removal of his mohawk in NO WAY tripled the size of his erection even though he once opened for the Clash, or so he claims (there is reason to think about 40% of his early history is fiction and I don't know if this Clash story is part of it), but this incident (the ironing Annie one) if it happened in Hamberg circa 1982, would certainly explain his tidyness fetish and refusal to wear wrinkled shirts (though we address this by removing clothes from the drier promptly and giving them a good shake)

  12. Tart: That is interesting! What band was he in? Or was he a solo punk sensation? The (remaining members of) The Clash are always well-turned out, so are no strangers to the flex 'n' fold.

  13. Does the ironing board come in pink (that's my best colour)? I think it's a fashion trend waiting to happen. Avant garde, my friend. And with your illustration skills, I see a new calling (spoken in a sing-songy voice)...

  14. Weird. You're reading me while I'm reading you.

  15. Well maybe you've finally solved the problem of ironing and are about to become famous. Don't iron, just cover yourself with two ironing boards, preferably with a floral patterned fabric belt to introduce a soft, fuzzy 'cuddle me' element.