How the hell has it come to pass that the cool young people are wearing gingham dresses and crocheting and trimming their beards with scrimshaw knives, while remaining oblivious to the joys of the wonderful olde-schoole world of philately?
“Philately? You mean stamp collecting?” Pfft! Stamp collecting is for children and idiots. Let the Punk Philatelist lead you to where the grown-ups live. Where murderers and millionaires collect and connive. Where countries go to war over the design of a postage stamp. Where ambition, ego and chance discoveries of an old envelope between the pages of a second-hand book can bring instant fortune to imbeciles.
It’s a world where artists passionate about their work create tiny works of art, only to see them bought and immediately dispatched by unthinking humans like you. Well, it’s time to start thinking, because there’s a war raging, and you don’t even realise that you’re the bad guy. Anyway, your Grandpa will die soon, and if you’ve read this far, then you’re probably planning to leg it with his stamp album.
The Punk Philatelist is based in Australia and chooses to mask her identity for now, lest she upset colleagues in the industry in which she may or may not be employed.
This blog may use occasional strong language. Should I have mentioned that at the start?