It's my face. On a wardrobe.
In a video that I posted about about a month ago, My Crib 2, I made the mistake of mentioning to you all that I had a story to tell, and then decided not to tell you said story – a decision that seems to have left many of you in a state of dire frustration. It’s like when someone tells you that they have a secret, but follows straight afterwards with an oh, I wasn’t supposed to mention that – forget I said anything. It’s always massively maddening, and they’re lying in a sense anyway, because they know that if they really, truly, honestly couldn’t tell you the secret, then they wouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place. And then of course, eventually, they give in and spill the beans anyway, which is exactly what I’m going to do now. So, with all of that in mind, here’s The Story of the Wardrobe Face. But be warned, it really is a bit odd.
It all starts when I was in my early teens (probably) being forced through the ritual of getting your school photos taken. I say forced, but school photos were never really that big of a deal for me. We got to miss first period, I was always pretty ace at pulling the right smile, and unless it was a milestone year for me, my Mum didn’t particularly mind if she received a copy of the photo or not anyway. On that particular year though she decided that, sure, I’d like one of them, and so the photos arrived in due course. The important thing to point out here though is that we didn’t just receive a single photo that particular year, but also a bunch of little, passport photo sized versions of the main photo. Which were all completely useless as actual passport photos, because I was smiling in all of them. But, you know, we bought them, so we kept them.
Months, or possibly years go past. If you haven’t already noticed, I don’t tend to remember the dates of events like this very well, just the events themselves. I was a bit older, not at all wiser, and in the middle of a prank pulling phase – a phase out of which I’ve never really escaped. My Mum was dating a guy called Lee at the time (who’s a jolly nice bloke, I still see him sometimes) and they’d been seeing each other long enough that she had a few pictures of the both of them in her bedroom, and in other areas around the house. And so, seeing pranking opportunities where nobody else would, I decided to cut out all of the passport sized photos of my younger, uniform clad self, and replace any photo including Lee’s face, with my own face. Yes, just like how some kind of insane, serial killer would. It was very creepy, I was very proud of myself, and the reaction from my family was one of confusion, followed by “oh, Charlie” chuckles.
Over time, for no particular reason, one of the the little photos from the prank made it’s rounds around my house. I stuck it to our front door at one point, on the inside just above the handle, so that everybody could leave with a little picture of my head in their, well, heads. It actually stayed there for years, because we completely forgot that it existed for the longest time. However, after rediscovering it later I stuck it to my bedroom wall, and then later still took it on the journey to London, where it now resides. For the most part, I now use it as an aid for framing my videos correctly. And now you know.
Although that story is a bit weird, to be honest, my main reason for not mentioning it in the video was that I just wouldn’t have been able to fit the entire tale in there. I think I kind of needed to put it in a blog post, so that you could all have the freedom to sit back and digest the mad thing that I did. Because it is still a bit weird. But you asked for it, and you’re welcome.
