331: Support our smut, troops and book-sellers

Saturday's foray into town with my new house mate – a man who is just as bookish as I am, and therefore not as inclined to make me resist my book-buying temptations as my fiancee is – provided ample opportunity to add weight to my groaning shelves. I couldn't possibly afford all the lovely wads of bound paper I desired, and if I could I couldn't carry them. But if I could afford them I could probably afford a taxi, or a wheelbarrow – but definately not a kindle, blurgh, no way.

Manchester city centre isn't that great for bookshops, although it does have tiny little pockets of quality. For instance I couldn't find a single good old paperback sci-fi, and everywhere is seriously overpriced. On top of that, most of them seem to be fronts for massive collections of vintage porn ; books, magazines, comics – I want to have a proper look but it's too embarrassing, especially when my eyes fell upon a glass display cabinet containing a unisex anal douche... in a second-hand/collectables shop, erk!

collected HERE by Robot vs Badger

How many collectors of vintage smut does Manchester house? Have these people never heard of the internet. Yes they have, just like I have heard of the kindle, yet still want the piles of books. Screw kindle and all you stand for! A quick aside while it is still in my mind – it popped in so may just pop out again:

In Manchester Piccadilly Gardens on Saturday were celebrations for Armed Forces Day (show your support, they do a good job). I celebrated by eating a spicy vegetable pasty. One man celebrated by standing at the base of the statue of Victoria waving a sign saying bombing for peace is like f***ing for virginity (his fucking asterisks, not mine). There was the usual small bunch of protesters with ill-defined and confused points to make; bless 'em. On a small stage were a rock/soul type band all decked out in their camoflage playing Don't Stop Believing and other embarrassing cheese ; they were called Voice of the Guns. I made my excuses and headed back to book land (stopping to look at the fish in the market).

First I picked up American Primitive for two quid ; it's all masks and rugs – it's fantastic. Then for four pound I got Lost Berlin by Susanne Everett which is incredible. Full of pictures of Berlin before the Allied bombing, and mainly before the Nazis proper ruined it – so lots of Cabaret / Goodbye to Berlin / Berlin Alexanderplatz evoking imagery. The shopkeeper (of the otherwise totally overpriced 2nd-hand shop) didn't seem to want to let it go. He said I bet I could have got a tenner out of you for this. I said no. He was chargin £4.50 for Peanuts paperpacks, and £2.95 for Michael Moorcock pulp ; I'm not made of money, damn you.