Bosch
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Sculpt:
Orientdoll Dong (yes, that really is the name)
Hair: Slaphead
Eyes: 8mm magic
beads
FaceUp: Madam Mau
Mau
Arrival:
November 2008
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What is there to say about
Bosch? He is small, mean and likes to wear women's clothing.
He is a piece of ethereal flotsam that arrived when Lilu was created, an
astral fly that blew in when the psychic window was opened. No one
knows what sort of being he is, but it is believed that he is drawn
towards the things that you and I forget. If your umbrella is no
longer with you when you leave the train and one of yesterday's earrings
has been mysteriously mislaid, Bosch has it. The car keys on the
hall table, the £10 note in your wallet, that last mouthful of coffee in
the bottom of your cup. If you could have sworn that it was there
and you find that it is not, Bosch has it.
No one knows what he does with
these trophies or why they should appeal to him, but rest assured that
he will bring them back. Not always straight away and not always
to their rightful owner, but they will be back. Some day.
Bosch makes up for a deficit of height with a surplus of attitude.
He is fearsomely irritable before his morning coffee and no better after
it.
Bosch can never be found when needed and will
seldom do what he is told. As such, he serves no discernible
purpose in the NachtZirkus outside of his self-appointed role of
resident kleptomaniac. However, for the few occasions when he will
unexpectedly return the small Phillips screwdriver just when it is
needed, he is tolerated by the troupe. He also contributes to the
clown act, when he is in the mood.
Demian because, being absent-minded, he mislays plenty of items for
Bosch to collect. Somewhere there is a huge, glittering pile of
Demian's mobile phones, house keys and sunglasses waiting to be found.
Being accused every time something goes missing.
Why did I buy a tiny? They are small (Bosch is 12 cm), cute and
look like infants on E numbers. Really not my bag. There are
three reasons. Firstly, I fancied a handbag doll. Being so
used to the inconvenience of 70cm dolls, I wanted one that I could stuff
into a spectacles case and pop in my bag. A portable plaything.
Secondly, I wanted the challenge. I wanted to see if my
dolly-styling skills were enough to turn one of these rather inane
little creatures into something I would want around the house.
Finally, it was cheap. For the price of a commissioned outfit for
Demian, I could swell the ranks of my dolly horde. And do you know
what? I am so glad I did. He has been the doll to convert
more people to the joys of resin than any other member of the troupe.
Bizarre but true.
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