As you can see I have tried to fiddle around with the template again. This has served to remind me that cliches don't become cliches for nothing. Tonight's entry is brought to you by *a little knowledge is a dangerous thing*.
And I still haven't managed to sort out the problem with the different fonts and justification. Even after Simon kindly pointed me to the problem.
I have faffed around for ages, reached a point of no return, unable to remember just what the hell I changed. Time to sack it for the time being. But, before I go, let's try another entry with a line break - 'cos that seems to have something to do with the problem.
I Hear You Knocking
Y'know, if I want to buy something I'll probably nip to the shops, or maybe peruse the internet until I find the goods I require. Then, and only then, will I buy them.
If I'm looking for an artisan to carry out work on my car, house, garden, Blog, I shall approach one after obtaining references -where possible.
So WHY do we have to put up with insistent men or women, *all smiles*, knocking on my door in an attempt to sell me something I don't want? Something indeed that I have never even given a moment's thought to ? And why is it that the first words out of their lips are usually: "I'm not selling anything...". Really ? Then why bother knocking ? Just after passing the time of day are you ?
Over the weekend I was confronted, (after rushing downstairs to answer the door), by a young man in hais early 20s dressed in a black suit and sporting an identity card. On being informed that *he wasn't selling anything*, I politely told him I wasn't interested in either buying anything from him or talking to him. I had to tell him this three times before closing the door. Whereuopn he shouted:
"What ! You're not interested in helping blind babies ??"
Tonight the same thing with a different guy. Apparently he *wasn't selling anything* but had noticed that the ridge tiles on my house could do with the benefit of closer inspection. "Fecking remarkable eyesight" I thought. This was a purely altruistic manouvre and his company had no intention of selling me anything. Once again I politely disappointed him. This one though decides to come out with a load of verbals after I'd closed the door. So I re-opened the door and shot him.
Once, long away in a different country called the past, I actually asked one of these
Almost four hours later after threatening to call the police, my MP and even Esther Rantzen, I finally got them out of the house by threatening to kick seven colours of sh*t out of them.
This would be 1980 and he was asking for £500 for a poxy shower fitted above the bath!
No doubt they're still at out there somewhere. Conning the old, weak and permanently bewildered out of their hard-earned. Bastards.
Fonts etc still buggered. Ho Hum.
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