9: Furniture

My lounge has relatively few items in it. Ever since I got divorced and got my own house I've made the lounge look almost exactly like you would expect if interior design was handled by a nerdish chimp with ADHD.

I'm sitting in said lounge right now writing this rant, so let me list the essential items that I can see before me.

Large Television. I'm not showing off, but it is vast and shiny. I enjoy HD stuff because it's better than actual life.

Surround Sound Kit. Only now really making use of this. Mainly to disturb my incredibly irritating neighbours by leaving MTV2 on when I'm out. Would also mean that any burglars would be educated on what is good and new in the world of music. Or rather whatever Zane Lowe wants them to watch whilst being sycophantic to the "stars" of Indie music. And the latest U2 video. Which last time I checked didn't fall under the remit of "alternative music".

Xbox 360. Why wouldn't you have one of these?

PS3. To watch Blu Rays. See above, better than life.

Sky Box HD Box. Because I like my yellow animated families to look lifelike. Also, why wouldn't you have Sky? If only for the music channels (even despite Zane Lowe) and awesome dating channels. I recommend that everyone watches those for at least half an hour a day. Wouldn't text any of those numbers on the screen though, a friend told me that they cost a fair bit. That's right, a friend.

Subwoofer. I don't know what it does, but I like saying the word in a welsh accent.

That's it. Nothing else is essential.

I have, for some reason, two coffee tables when at least two less would suffice. One sits on a greying faux-sheepskin rug that I imagine visitors think I use to pose on for my glamour shoots, wearing a pantomined plumbers uniform. The other was purchased from Ikea for around £20 and is used to store anything that I don't really care enough about to display or ever find again. Every now and again I will shove everything that rests on this table into an empty Sainsburys carrier bag and throw it away.

There is no need to have surfaces to put things on when the floor would easily suffice.

I have two identical sofas that look like they've been stolen from a bad nightclub. Not one of the meat-market nightclubs that you KNOW will be rubbish - like the ones my Dad builds - Liquid and Envy, Creation, Oceania and so on. They know that they're dives, with every single punter in there either below 16 years old and female or over 35 years old and male. I refer to the sort of establishment - be it club or bar - that is slightly out of town and run by a man wearing linen trousers, flip flops and a deep vee neck t-shirt from All Saints even if he's slightly overweight. But they're leather and cheap, obviously cheap - but you can imagine them being sat on by orange faced slags on a Thursday night whilst said flip-flop wearer plies them with his most generous servings of his cheapest vodka whilst jingling his BMW keys.

I also have a pointless wicker basket that is part table, part basket. And pointless. I have no idea what's in there at the moment.

(Pause to look)

Nothing but crap. A three year old newspaper. A PS2 steering wheel. Old flyers. A GTA San Andreas guidebook. Utterly pointless.

My mother will often tell me that I need more furniture, that I need to brighten the place up somewhat. No. I would improve my lounge enormously if I got rid of the tables, sofas and wicker box and merely bought one large beanbag and an extra duvet to lie on and possibly build the occasional fort.

Trips to Ikea fill me with rage. It's a trite comedic point to mention the names they give their products - because Swedish people are wacky - so that's not my main issue. My issue is having to watch people somehow believing that their produce is of high quality merely because their friends have an identical house filled with Ikea shit, and also having to watch people arguing about which plastic chair would look best in their pointless little house.

I have never entered a DFS and never will. I'm aware that I'm meant to look at their discounted prices and be amazed, but to me £499 for a red dralon sofa with huge arms and segments of mock wood doesn't really strike me as a bargain. The fact that the people who shop there seem to think that their prices have ever been higher than what they currently advertise fascinates me. It's the unquestioning conformity to accepting what they show as "offers" that I enjoy. People slavishly nodding at their adverts and queuing outside on Boxing Day believing that it's the best thing to do. The same people attended Midnight Mass two days prior to that, believing what they were told once again, showing up because they felt they had to.

If you're religious by the way, I bear you no ill will nor mean to cause you offense with that last remark. Unless you have the chintziest lounge in the world - if that is the case, I think we need to have a little chat.