Real England

I'll put it on the real russia thread but Rostov's new away kit (or third kit i think) is the design of a persian rug after (one of?) their fans started turning up with a rug

― anvil, Friday, August 24, 2018 1:00 PM (two minutes ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

as mentioned here #ruglife

designers probably au fait with various Spanish lower league efforts such as this prawny number

https://dnre29p915wg3.cloudfront.net/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/700x700/0dc2d03fe217f8c83829496872af24a0/l/o/loja-17-gk-pink-tags.jpg

extremely vaporwave

no they play in Japan iirc

oh dear god

Libertines frontman Pete Doherty wins cafe breakfast fame

With a fucking yazoo

Yahoo with a yazoo. I love how the BBC call it a 'strawberry milkshake'. If yazoo is a milkshake then I'm Alison Moyet.

English House yes mates

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHZ9sd5oIgs

You can only take one of your children? pic.twitter.com/TSzlQVvsP9

— Tim Robey (@trim_obey) August 27, 2018

is that for real? Lol!

it's in Sidcup.

So's one of the better Italian places in London. A weird melange is Sidcup

https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7341/10597337884_57673b93af_b.jpg

the 'sliced bacon specialists' tagline written in cursive is what really makes this imo

bellies in one end, slices out the other

House-proud Fiona Boston tells ITV News she had "no choice" but to brazenly make off with this £1,500 sofa from House of Fraser in front of shocked staff https://t.co/g6WwAVS3sK pic.twitter.com/08H37NzBB4

— ITV News (@itvnews) September 7, 2018

fuckin yes

ITV might want to review their autocorrect policies:

She said: "I'm more mad because I'm not going to get my poofy and my cushions off of them. How am I going to get them?"

haha.

My grandma had a poof to put her feet up on so I don’t see why this lady should have her poofy.

the autocorrect also seems to have replaced "took" with "taken".

the story is actually way more sympathetic than I expected based on that clip, I thought she'd just be someone who stole a sofa and dgaf and even then I was still thinking '...cool'

xp I'm always semi-professionally fascinated by ppl's policies of 'correcting' minor errors of grammar in things like this where it doesn't really make much difference either way

if you're a stan you can watch the much better and longer version of that hard hitting news report here:

http://www.itv.com/news/2018-09-07/mum-had-no-choice-but-to-make-off-with-house-of-fraser-sofa/

'Erratic driver' watching pornography when stopped in Doncaster

Obsessed with the “bastards’ nostalgia” genre of jigsaw puzzle. Every man jack of them = a Faragean fever dream of era-mangling, magical realist menace pic.twitter.com/k1LwE5Z5uv

— Sarah Dempster (@Dempster2000) September 11, 2018

that stuff makes Lynch's exercises in macabre in the ordinary look lightweight as fuck!

https://i.imgur.com/3YvCXEi.jpg?1

dare to deep dream

https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/U7fQnI0fr2SFGVnHwfAjmte7rd4=/0x61:946x692/920x613/filters:focal(0x61:946x692):format(webp)/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/34438363/Richarddjames.0.png

the completely fucked sense of scale on the spitfire image is making me feel queasy

omg I love these - the nightmarish, inconsistent perspective, the lurid overload of details!

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9axor4aNwOk/Uxo89FeSfBI/AAAAAAAA0gE/AUg0u5YFERQ/s1600/the+secretary.jpg

i read this today. Joseph Conrad.

https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Dm0Qts4W0AA3OL4?format=jpg&name=large

xp the combination of nostalgia + apparently drug-induced collapsing of the conventions of time and space is making me think of Penny Lane

christ the fixed grin on the guy behind the desk is genuinely unnerving

https://q4j2g5j9.stackpathcdn.com/ddg-dream/beae28d3873f5b9acdf277247e9de58bbd6a933d.jpg?2

lmao

lol

soref otm, these are intense

The secretary giving the viewer the eye is straight out of 'Carry On' or 'Confessions of an Office Manager'.

he's a 70's St Martens graduate, but doesn't get mentioned on the notable alumni lists for some reason.

I would readily buy mark s's line of DeepEngland puzzles

mark s deep dream image is actually less distressing than the original imo, it's just made the roiling chthonic horror already present visible, like roddy piper's glasses in they live

level 6, "spirits" setting:
https://q4j2g5j9.stackpathcdn.com/ddg-dream/47190ffafbe83175af0aee8fedcb90a142acff29.jpg?6

The typical tale is told, and exceedingly well told--though, alas, not exactly in the language of the natives--by Mrs. Bray in her Letters to Southey, of a certain midwife of Tavistock. One midnight, as she was getting into bed, this good woman was summoned by a strange, squint-eyed, little, ugly old fellow to follow him straight-way, and attend upon his wife. In spite of her instinctive repulsion she could not resist the command and in a moment the little man whisked her, with himself, upon a large coal-black horse with eyes of fire, which stood waiting at the door. Ere long she found herself at the door of a neat cottage; the patient was a decent-looking woman who already had two children, and all things were prepared for her visit. When the Child--a fine, bouncing babe--was born, its mother gave the midwife some ointment, with directions to "strike the child's eyes with it." Now the word strike in the Devonshire dialect means not to give a blow, but to rub, or touch, gently; and as the woman obeyed she thought the task an odd one, and in her curiosity tried the effect of the ointment upon one of her own eyes. At once a change was wrought in the appearance of everything around her. The new mother appeared no longer as a homely cottager, but a beautiful lady attired in white; the babe, fairer than before, but still witnessing with the elvish cast of its eye to its paternity, was wrapped in swaddling clothes of silvery gauze; while the elder children, who sat on either side of the bed, were transformed into flat-nosed imps, who with mops and mows were busied to no end in scratching their own polls, or in pulling the fairy lady's ears with their long and hairy paws. The nurse, discreetly silent about what she had done and the wonderful metamorphoses she beheld around her, got away from the house of enchantment as quickly as she could; and the sour-looking old fellow who had brought her carried her back on his steed much faster than they had come. But the next market-day, when she sallied forth to sell her eggs, whom should she see but the same ill-looking scoundrel busied in pilfering sundry articles from stall to stall. So she went up to him, and with a nonchalant air addressed him, inquiring after his wife and child, who, she hoped, were both as well as could be expected. "What!" exclaimed the old pixy thief, "do you see me to-day?" "See you! to be sure I do, as plain as I see the sun in the skies; and I see you are busy into the bargain," she replied. "Do you so? "cried he; "pray, with which eye do you see all this?" "With the right eye, to be sure." "The ointment! the ointment!" exclaimed the old fellow; "take that for meddling with what did not belong to you: you shall see me no more."

He struck her eye as he spoke, and from that hour till the day of her death she was blind on the right side, thus dearly paying for having gratified an idle curiosity in the house of a pixy.

in level six of "carry on deepdreaming the secretary" pretty much everything has turned in nigel farage's chin

Real Tavistock.

^^in the version i read as a kid, of the midwife among the fairies story -- as collected by amabel williams-ellis* in "fairytales from the british isles" -- the fairy's true dwelling is also revealed by the ointment: "she saw she wasn't in a cottage at all, but sitting under the branches of an old oak, whose hollow and moss-grown trunk she had mistaken for the fireplace. fire and candle were nothing but glow-worms…"

*who married the guy who built portmeirion, so the number six is relevant

I figured out who the oddly outsized secretary with eaten cakes reminds me of

https://dg19s6hp6ufoh.cloudfront.net/pictures/611837579/large/1book10.jpeg

Ordinarily in crowded paintings like this I like to apply a fun piece of ILx method, by way of identifying the Xander (apparently peripheral character which the work is secretly all about) and/or the Bez (apparently superfluous figure without whom the whole enterprise falls to meaningless pieces). It's fun to try with (eg) Bosch or one of the Breughel chaps. I can't do it with these, and the fact that I find it impossible to identify that kind of centre might be why I find the pictures more unnerving than it feels like I should.