It All Makes Work For The Working Man To Do
Quite a nondescript few days since I last blogged. We treated eight family members to a meal on Friday to celebrate the Brother-in-Law's birthday. Saturday, knowing I had to fix a new security light to the world's hardest house brick, I swanned off to the local B & Q and acquired a few masonry drills. Sunday I ascended the ladder and started drilling. It's a bastard trying to apply pressure as you drill with one hand whilst balanced at the top of a ladder. It should be a challenge on one of these ubiquitous SAS, survival, reality shows that are springing up everywhere as sad, sexually-tensioned imitations of the Krypton Factor. What seemed like a week later, with a withered limb, I was bathed in glorious light. Sadly it was broad daylight and the bloody thing should've remained unlit. A further bout of expert fiddling with the miniscule controls ensued. They were handily coloured black to make them stand out against the black material of the lamp itself. Then I had to wait until it got dark before I could check the settings. Dusk was hours away. The pub beckoned. I answered its call.When we returned at 9:45pm we forgot all about the light. This evening I remembered and walked out to the patio whereupon I whirled like a Dervish to no avail. I could've demolished the shed and nicked each and every one of the 'valuables' therein and I wouldn't have raised a flutter. So, out come the ladders as a precursor to fiddling about again. After a while I succeed in getting the light to appear in the gloaming. A second or two later it goes off again. Bollocks. More fiddling. Now the light comes on again and stays on - for frigging ages. More bollocks. More fiddling. Eventually me and this inanimate object reach a compromise and now, should any scally, scrote or chav wish to break into my garden shed, they can do so bathed in light that neither stays on too long nor goes off too soon.
I was listening to Radio 5Live's 'Any Sporting Questions' tonight and I heard a question that I never in my life thought I would ever hear:-
"Do you think Colonel Gaddafi will be bad for football?"
Quality.
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