Dublin Man Not Entirely Sure How Argos Catalogue Got In The House



DURING a biannual clean of the one bedroom apartment he shares with himself, Dublin man Colm Nolan was puzzled to find a copy of the latest edition of the Argos catalogue under his coffee table. With no recollection of having picked up the biscuit tin-sized tome, Nolan has spent the past hour wondering how on Earth it got into his house.

Once the only source of entertainment in Ireland, the Argos catalogue offered the impoverished citizens of this island a glimpse into a world where furniture wasn’t inherited from dead relatives and bed-sheets came in colours other than brown.

Irish people in the eighties would huddle around a borrowed copy of the Argos catalogue, dreaming of a time they would have the money to give to someone traveling “up north” to get them a food processor or an engagement ring.

As years went by and the Free State was able to afford Argos stores of their own, catalogues became more commonly available leading to most households having at least four copies at any given time, with one making its way into Nolan’s possession seemingly without his knowledge.

“I don’t even remember being near an Argos, let alone picking up a catalogue,” said the 35-year-old, flicking to the toy section at the back out of pure childhood habit.

“Would someone from Argos have thrown it into the window of my car as I drove past? Or dropped into my trolley in Tesco? I do most of my shopping online so I have no real need for an Argos catalogue… Perhaps I picked one up subliminally? I’d surely remember doing that though, the fucking thing weighs a tonne”.

Nolan, having abandoned his attempts at hoovering, is reluctant to throw the catalogue out, claiming “you never know what you might need it”. He is expected to spend the rest of the day circling things he likes with a red pen.