I was painting the flat recently, turning it from somewhere the 50s forgot into a place I could show my legions of adoring apostlettes around without the threat of a slap in the face and a sharp goodbye. I had to move my life into the shed. Books, clothes, CDs, DVDs, magazines, African sex gongs and novelty mugs all kept from harm’s way while I treated the walls to a lick of Crown brilliant white. Today I restored everything as was, and the DVDs came last. I didn’t count them but I reckon there to be between 200 and 250. 90% of it is stuff I’d watch again, I’m a man who views the good stuff ad nauseam, but I did come across some God-awful muck, the €3.99 shite you buy in HMV as some sort of sick retail therapy tool. Or Spar. Because it’s on display beside the ‘buy … There’s more →