Certain tropes are adhered-to which can't
be easily hidden, they follow a theme of pseudo-military dress, a pattern of
sartorial elegance best described as privately-funded Yeoman Cavalry meet
Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band in Biba's pirate-chandlery!
Boots are usually laced, the laces either
straight or crossed, but buttons can be found and plain boots are seen.
Smock-jackets are laced - again parallel or cross-stitched, while others have
button-up dress jackets and either crossed-belts or parallel belts are
sometimes seen being sported.
Headwear varies but is commonly military or
regal, if regal; usually multi-pointed crowns, if military; busbies, bearskins,
shakos and Polish-Lancers caps are all found, with or without peaks.
They hide themselves in numerous ways, Brian
shot these in New York, I saw two similar sets in Basingrad (an easy target),
but couldn't shelfie them, security was tight. Note however that while they
wear different uniforms these evil-beevils are clones - the mustaches fool
no-one observant!
Large tin-plate ones (5-foot) have been
seen - also in Basingrad - drumming up support (it's an easy target), drums,
other instruments, swords, muskets, fancy-staffs and ceremonial maces are
favourite props of these invaders.
Larger figures (3/4 feet) have also
infiltrated this New Jersey fruit market (have they no humanity), draped in
rich, Prussian-blue velvet cloaks, playing with smaller infiltrators on
puppet-strings, you see . . . you see how they inveigle their way into our
culture with a mixture of charm and pushiness!
Don't mess with Skandi-Santa, he looks like
he's about 'had' the human holidays, but you can laugh at his socks when he's not
looking . . . but be careful, his eyes will follow you round the market!
I haven't escaped this invasion, forcing
2-quid (Poundworld Plus) from my still warm hands, this one has come home with me and there was
nothing I could do to stop him. He has announced himself White Rod; Keeper of the Keys to the Lollipop Cupboard!
His mouth works, but is only big-enough for
a pine-nut or sunflower-seed; clearly they have another agenda entirely, which
has nothing to do with nuts and everything to do with world domination and the
subjugation of the masses.
They've crept on to my wrapping paper!
They. Are. Everywhere! Run . . .run for the hills!
These jumped-out of a cubby-hole in Debenhams, Basingrad (the bloody place
is infested with them) and nearly got me, but I managed to shoot them and make
for the escalator!
If this warning has come too late for you,
and you have youngsters around over the holiday, this is an A4 dimensioned
picture you can print-off for them to colour-in, it might buy you 20-minutes
peace and quiet, but then again . . . it might not!
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