With pictures. Which is nice.
The Mannequins, Henry and Betty came into my life after a Charlie Brooker review of the series 24 planted a seed of an obsession about Mannequins being what ever you wanted them to be. Preferably Kim Catrall circa 1987. Although I have long since lost the actual quote, I imagine it was some sort of acerbic comment along the lines of replacing all the baddies past season 4 of 24 with shop dummies with the word ‘Baddie’ written on a post stick and stuck to their head, it having become so formulaic and obvious. From there I’ll think you’ll see quite clearly how I ended up persuading my then boyfriend to drive me to an Animal Sanctuary somewhere outside of Farnham to collect two half clothed Mannequins (one with a hand missing) that I paid £99 for in a nail biting e-bay bidding war.
They don’t sit nicely in the back of cars with seat belts on, if you’re thinking that they do. No. You have to cram them in like you’ve kidnapped and dismembered a 6ft 4inch man, and a frighteningly awkward woman. No, even in an old Volvo estate, they will not sit.
They are in my flat now, Betty and Henry, in the spare room, home to hoards of paper and some dead lady birds. They are dismantled at the moment, awaiting their next outing.