Tag Archives: humour

Do I really?

I have been missing from the blogging world for a few weeks now. Mainly this has been due to being very busy not just at work but at home as well. It’s not been helped by struggling to find a subject to write about. My original intention, and Lily Moose will confirm this, was to write about my efforts to build a garden shed. It has to be said that PIL took it all rather well.

Then I thought to myself that really, I have already demonstrated to the World at large that when it comes to DIY I’m a bit of a dork, so why embarrass myself again?

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A garden shed is a simple wooden structure. Ours consisted of a two piece floor, two sides, four sections making up the front and rear gables, a two piece roof, a double door and some roofing felt. A simple structure but I still managed to fuck it up! I am fully aware of my shortcomings when it comes to DIY and therefore read the instructions very carefully. I took on board the suggestion that I read them again over a cup of coffee.

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In fact, I read them three times over four coffees and then I twice watched the on-line video on how to construct this shed. I immediately hit a problem. The shed was not very big. 8 foot x 4 foot but the written instructions and the video kept going on about ensuring the shed was square! How the bloody hell can a 8×4 shed (a rectangle if my memory serves me correctly) be square? So the first two hours were spent scratching my head.

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In the end, I rang a mate of mine up who is a builder and wouldn’t be too sarcastic and he explained it all to me. So I started the build but soon discovered another problem. To build this shed required 4 hands, 3 legs and intelligence. I was deficient in all three areas so I put my tools away and waited until the following day when PIL would be home. The following day arrived and we commenced work on the shed again. Once the walls were fitted, PIL went inside while I carried on with the build. Floor, walls, gables and roof all went up and then it was time to fit the doors in the remaining space. Somehow or another during the construction the gap at the top of the door way was 46 inches (spot on as it happens) but the bottom was 49 inches! Or was it the other way round? My rectangle was no longer square! So I thought, “Bollocks” and spent 14 minutes dismantling what had taken me 4 hours to build, went in doors, had a cup of tea and suffered the laughter and sarcasm. PIL took it all rather well considering.

So then I thought “Do I really want the World to know that once again, when it comes to DIY, I’m a complete pillock?”

PIL already thinks I’m a plank.

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My kids think I’m a fossil.

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So simply put.

No.

So I’ve decided not to write about my shed building escapades. No one needs to know so I’m keeping quiet. Sorry and all that, but I really don’t want to write about it. Instead I think I might write about cars. I like cars. Or tell a real life ghost story. One of my mates has also asked to write  as a guest on my blog. Apparently, he wants to “weassure” the World about what he calls “Bwexit” and “The Twump effect”. He may also mention pesky wabbits. We shall see. In the meantime, I have a builder mate to phone about getting a garden shed built.

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.

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The Garden

The front garden, which has been my project for the last 12 months is coming along nicely. It needs more plants in it and I got another dozen to plant up on Sunday. Typically, since then the weather has been foul and I’ve not had a chance to actually put them in the soil. I’ve got Astilbes, Lupins, Freesias (my mums favourite if I remember correctly), Anemones and a couple more Geums. I also got several ferns for Eeyores place down one side of the house that is particularly gloomy. I think that once they’re in it will begin to look more cottage gardeny although I suspect more plants will be required to get the desired effect but I’m pleased with it so far. 20160531_113633

The tulips out there did very well on long, straight stems but didn’t last as long as I had hoped mainly due, I think, to the wet weather. The alliums are looking particularly good at the moment as do some other plants I put in last year but have no idea what they are now.

I have been disappointed with the foxgloves though. After writing about how easy they are to grow and how they self seed everywhere, this year, despite having loads growing previously and possibly a billion seeds falling to the soil, only half a dozen have started to grow. What a bummer!20150612_100703

I like foxgloves for their height, their attraction to bees, their beautiful flowers and how easy they are to grow (usually). I can’t help thinking that the extremely wet winter we had has caused the seeds to rot away or, knowing my luck, the seeds floated off and one of my neighbours has a beautiful display.20150612_100842

Having said that, apparently it’s one of the joys of gardening insofar as you never quite know what each year will bring. I’m inclined to go along with that although the sense of disappointment when something doesn’t quite work out how you planned is a pain in the neck or, in my case, a pain in the lower back. Still, very soon now the front garden will be looking splendid and it will be time to contemplate the back garden which is looking more than a tad neglected. We (by ‘We”, I mean PIL) have plans for the back garden. Just about any plants we put in the beds last less than a season due to being flattened by youngsters playing, in no particular order, cricket, football, basketball, tennis, trample dads plants and take off the flowers with a frisbee (the last two being particular favourites with our kids). Once the front is finished, all the plants in the back garden will be transferred to the front to fill in any spaces there and the ensuing space planted with shrubs.2004_OND-BELL-HEBEVI4

Shrubs tend to be more resilient to the kind of abuse my kids hand out plus they don’t seem to be so sensitive to being pissed on by the dog (and by me from time to time when I can’t be arsed to come in). The additional bonus of having shrubs there is that they quickly grow large enough to devour all kinds of balls, frisbees and water pistols. Either that or shrubs have some kind of portal to another dimension where stuff like that disappears for all time. A bit like washing machines and socks.

Now that I have made my sister Boo

Boo. My sister. She often looks like this

Boo. My sister. She often looks like this

happy by writing about gardens and my toiletry habits I am going to go and dig some holes to put our new plants in cos it’s stopped raining. I just hope there isn’t any cat crap out there.

Have an outstanding day. They are the best ones to have.

More Dick soon.auto

Guilt

I’m sitting at home feeling guilty. The soaps are on TV so PIL is destroying several million brain cells watching them. She enjoys mindless TV apparently and Morgan Freeman help anyone who speaks while they’re on.

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So why do I feel guilt?

I have been away for a couple of weeks working.

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I disappeared on the 13th May to start on a task on the 14th. It was scheduled to finish on the 29th. It didn’t. By 11am on the 28th we had finished and after a horrendous journey on the M25, I had returned home to my family by 4pm. This meant that I was able to watch the Play off final between Hull and Sheffield Wednesday and then swop channels to watch the Champions League final between Real Madrid and Atletico Madrid while still being paid. I also spent Sunday the 29th poking around in the garden, the local garden centre, walking the dog, spending time with my family (except Greg who was at his girlfriends “revising”) and getting paid while I did so. Is this why I feel guilt? No chance!

No. I feel guilty because on the 16th the builders appeared to start work replacing the family bathroom, the en-suite and the downstairs loo and poor PIL had to deal with it all. It did not get off to a good start. Within 30 seconds of arriving, one of the builders had smashed a vase. It did not improve at all over the next couple of weeks. There were no major disasters, just a series of minor problems that started driving PIL nuts.

The builder sent an email stating:

“Get any shower you like for the bathrooms.”

assuming that we remembered a brief conversation we had many weeks previously where he said that the main bathroom needed an electric shower. We didn’t so PIL got the wrong showers which in turn meant there wasn’t any shower in the house for 2 days as a pump had to purchased and it had to be installed and because of that delay, the radiators haven’t been fitted. Not having a shower for two days is a major disaster in our house!20160530_150927

Then they installed the toilet for the main bathroom in the downstairs loo. Why? They didn’t ask and just installed the toilet closest to hand. Another morning lost. Each of the sinks is having a cabinet fitted underneath. The one in the downstairs toilet was going to be full length. So that’s what PIL got. Then it turned out that due to some issues with pipes, it needed to be a wall hung unit. So PIL ordered one. The following day she noticed they were installing the full length cabinet. So she had to cancel the wall hung unit but it had already been despatched and so on and so forth………..

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Work has commenced in the en-suite and has been more involved than at first thought but at the same time, the tiling in the main bathroom hasn’t been completed. Why? No idea.20160530_150833

I explained to the guy that we have absolutely no issue with the workmen or the standard of workmanship but there has been a distinct lack of communication and he has made a very dangerous assumption that we understand what he is talking about. Neither of us is thick and we are very good at every aspect of our professional lives but we know absolutely nothing about building, plumbing or tiling middle-age-man-tools-18781280

so he needs to treat us like a couple of morons and use simple words of one syllable or less and not assume that we will remember a short conversation about showers that took place some weeks previously.

“In future mate, put on your emails; ‘any shower you like but remember the main bathroom needs an electric one’!”

The builders are back today and I have told their Boss to be here later today so we can thrash out all these niggling issues once and for all. The plan is that the bathrooms should be finished this week. We shall see. Until then I will continue to feel guilty about leaving PIL to deal with all this nonsense although I have to say she has done a bloody marvellous job dealing with the builders and a never ending series of hiccups while at the same time selecting all the units and tiles and showers and baths and bogs and basins. It’s looking good.

I think our new bathrooms may be the subject of another post real soon. Until then have a bloody excellent day.

More Dick soon.

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Toad in the Hole. A recipe.

 

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For those of you who don’t know what toad in the Hole is, don’t worry. I’m not about to chuck an amphibian into a fire pit and cook it although I have eaten frog legs. Tastes like chicken. Nope. Toad in the Hole is Yorkshire pudding with the addition of sausages (bangers). The reason this culinary delight is called Toad in the Hole is beyond me as is the reason sausages are called ‘bangers’. I never said I would explain why the English are weird.

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Toad in the Hole is my signature dish. My mum taught me how to cook it and I do make a pretty decent version. You will note that I don’t list quantities or weights cos I never measure or weigh ingredients which probably explains why some of the meals I cook end up looking like baby poo and, occasionally, a plate of vomit. Heyho. I may look like the Michelin Man but I have no stars. It is a great meal to have though. Cheap as chips and if you use Quorn sausages, it’s suitable for veggies too.

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You will need the following:

Plain flour, eggs, milk, some vegetable oil and some bangers. I prefer to use Cumberland sausages simply because I like them but you can use whatever bangers you like.

You will also need a big bowl, a sieve, a whisk or fork and two deep oven tray thingies – a big one for the main event and a smaller one for the secret. Don’t use the trays for making little individual Yorkshire puds. Well, ok. If you really must then you can.

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Sieve the flour into the big bowl. This starts to put air into the mixture. Beat in two or three eggs until you have a gooey mess. This should add more air to the mixture. Then gradually start to add milk and stir it into the mixture. While stirring, try to beat more air into the mixture. You’ll know if you are because little bubbles start to appear in the mixture. Add milk until the mixture is sort of a thick liquid. Leave it to stand for a while.

batter mix

Turn your oven on as high as it goes. It needs to be really hot. At least 220 centigrade which converts to a shit load of fahrenheits. Put some oil into the oven trays and add as many bangers as you want to the bigger of the two trays (don’t put any in the smaller one) and put them both into the very hot oven. After about 10 minutes prepare to take the trays out by turning a burner on the hob on. Take the trays out one at a time, closing the oven door as you take each one out. Place on the burner to maintain the heat. Pour the batter into each of the trays ensuring you put enough into each to completely cover the base. Return to the oven as quickly as possible.

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After about 15 minutes open the oven door and don’t do what I always do and stick your head in the oven. It’s bloody hot and if you wear specs like I do at home, they will steam up and you can’t see a bloody thing! Turn the oven down to about 200. After 20/25 minutes the small one which is just Yorkshire pud should be cooked so remove it and leave it to get cold.

After about half an hour or 30 minutes if you prefer, the Toad in the Hole should be cooked. Remove from the oven which you should now turn off to save the planet, cut up into the required number of pieces and serve with veg and gravy. We rarely have it with mashed spud but you can if you want.

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Once the small Yorkshire is cold, cut it up and serve later with a decent smothering of strawberry jam. Don’t puke, it’s lovely. Try it.

Have a smashing day.

More Dick soon.

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Dexter

After the emotional stuff that left me completely drained, I thought it would be nice to be a bit more light hearted.

Some months ago I was walking Dexter, our dog, out in the fields close to where we live and took some video of him prancing about. When the crops are taller than he is, Dexter does this Tigger like jump so that he can see where he is. It looks cute. It’s taken me from April last year until now to figure out how to transfer the video from my phone to my laptop. Eldest son sorted it for me in the end. The video lasts for less than a minute. Enjoy.

 

 

 

Hitting the deck isn’t the problem. It’s getting back up again!

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.

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The Great Escape.

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Along with the critters Boo and Gupta have a poly tunnel in which they grow a variety of vegetables and fruit. One of the fruits they grow is raspberry. I like raspberries but so do the blackbirds and they seem to have an uncanny knack of scoffing all the ripe raspberries 5 minutes before I arrive to harvest them. There are more raspberries growing outside the tunnel but the story is the same. All the ripe fruit gets eaten before I get to them.

I searched for an hour to find these. Bloody birds!

I searched for an hour to find these. Bloody birds!

There is also a hedgerow that grows along two of the boundaries here and a great many blackberry bushes grow here. I’m fond of blackberries too and harvesting them brings back a great many good memories of my boyhood when my brothers and I would walk up to Wimbledon Common and fill bags with blackberries that my mum would add to a variety of pies she made. We would have blackberry pies and my personal favourite, apple and blackberry pie. My mum made the best pastry ever and the pies were mouth wateringly good. The pies would be served with custard or ice cream and we would argue over who got the custard skin! It was great. So yesterday evening I took a wander round collecting any raspberries and blackberries that I could find so they could go in freezer to be turned into pies at some later time. As I walked along the narrow lane that runs down one side of the smallholding, I noticed a chicken come out of the hedgerow, walk across the road and go into the field oppositeChicken Crossing the Road.

“Oh look” I thought. “A chicken. I wonder where’s he’s off too.”

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Another chicken appeared, crossed the road and went into the neighbours field. It was closely followed by several others.

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“Oh dear” I thought again. “I wonder who they belong to as it’s going to be dark soon and the foxes will have them.”

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Then the penny dropped.

“Oh fuck.” I thought. (Looking after animals is very thought provoking.) “They’re Boos!”

By this time 11 or 12 chickens had crossed the road into a neighbouring field. They had found a gap in the fence and decided to make a run for it.

“What is this? Bloody ‘Chicken Run’? Where’s Mel Gibson?”

chicken-run

Acting with uncharacteristic speed, I grabbed a nearby rock, found the gap and plugged it. Then I vaulted over a gate into the field the chickens were in and proceeded to round them up. Have you ever tried to round up chickens? It’s well nigh impossible on your own. They are right bolshie bastards.

fuck u chicken

I ran around the field trying to get them back across the road but they just scattered to all points of the compass plus some more. I had no alternative. I had to get John the talkative 73 year old neighbour involved. I banged on his door, told him the story and told to hurry as it would be dark soon. As he put his wellies on he was chatting away 19 to the dozen.

“Yow know what Dick? This happened to me a few years back. It were 1963 and I were cutting the grass on a caravan park I were staying at. Or were it 1964? It might even have been 1962 but no matter. I were cutting grass in this caravan park I were staying at in Newport. That’s Newport in Cornwall, not Newport in Wales. Or is it in Devon? Yow know what Dick, I don’t know which county it’s in but never mind, it weren’t the one in Wales. Or were it? So these chickens escaped from a neighbouring farm into the caravan park I were staying at. I used to cut the grass there as a favour to the owner who gave me a discount for cutting the grass. It were 1963. I’m certain of it. Anyhow…….”

WTF!

“Mate. Will you hurry up and put your boots on. I’ll meet you up there.”

Whereupon I rushed off despite the raging headache that I had suddenly developed.

John duly arrived and we started to gather the clucks up. Then he paused, leant on his spadeGARDENER WITH SPADE - ILLUSTRATION

and said;

“Yow know what Dick? This happened to me once before. It were in 1963. I were cutting the grass at the caravan park I were staying at. By the time we had sorted ourselves out it were getting dark so I fired up the old 8 wheeler they kept in a barn. It were an old Foden unit. Built in 1951 if I remember correctly. Anyway, I turned on the headlight and do you know what? Them old headlights lit up the whole caravan site. I’d been cutting the grass there just before this happened and you could see where I had cut……….”

“Mate. Can you get to the point please? It’s getting dark and we’ve only recaptured 8 chickens.”

“Ar.” said John. “That’s my point. I’ll go and get my old Kubota tractor and light up the field. I got that tractor in 1994 and I repaired everything on it. It’s better than new now…..”

So off John went to get his better than new tractor while I enjoyed the peace and quiet and tried to stop my ears bleeding.

Soon John arrived on his Kubota tractor and lit up the field with it’s headlights.

“Yow know what Dick? This tractor has the best head lights ever. I put extra lights on, a bigger battery, sonic boom headlights. You can’t get them sonic boom lights anymore. Them went out of business in 1913 but I got hold of some of them lights. I put vapourless hayday quilt bulbs in. Thems full of arsenic yow know. Or is it cyanide? Anyway, yow have to be right careful with them. Look at that! Them lights could light up the moon from here. Well, they could if it weren’t a bit cloudy and the moon weren’t so far away……”

Eventually, after much cursing and threatening to blow the bastards away with the shotgun, we managed to get all the chickens gathered up and put away.

“Yow know what Dick? This happened to me years ago. I were cutting the grass at this caravan site I were staying at in 1963…..”

I invited John in for a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit. I was grateful for all his help. He’s a lovely, helpful bloke who just happens to rabbit a lot. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying as my ears were stuffed with cotton wool in an effort to stem the flow of blood. He didn’t seem to notice, or care. He was quite happy to tell me tales of 1951 Foden 8 wheelers, mowing grass and Kubota tractors and I was happy for him to tell them.

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.

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One Down, Plenty More To Go.

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My sister Boo is a very efficient person. She and her husband have to be. They own a small holding with a great many animals to care for.20150904_082538

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So when I arrived in Wales to look after their place I was given a great many important instructions. So, for instance, I know where the chocolate cake is.

The care and feeding of all the animals was carefully explained to me. The clucks and ducks get fed twice a day. One type of food in the morning and another in the afternoon. I know where all the bedding materials are, what to do with the eggs once they are collected, when the bin men come and how to divvy up the general rubbish with the recycling and what bags each go in.20150904_112504

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I know what to do with the crops in the poly tunnel, how often to water and what type of watering (deep root at present).20150904_112421

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However, Boo failed to give me one important piece of information and misled me on another. The misinformation first. She told me the battery powering the electric fence had no power left. Wrong! As I discovered when I brushed against the crotch high electric fence and received an electric shock to a part of my anatomy that no man should have shocked. Made my eyes water!20150904_084321

The information she forgot to give me was what the bloody hell do you do with a dead chicken?

When I let them out this morning one of them stayed in the hen house, so I gave it a poke and said;

“Oi you lazy bugger. Time to rise and shine.”

It stayed put. So I picked it up to discover rigor mortis had set in.

“Oh bugger!” was my first thought. Then I thought,

“What the fuck do I do with it now?”

Couldn’t eat it cos it wasn’t an eating chicken and I didn’t really fancy plucking, gutting and decapitating it. I’m not sure if you’re allowed to bury the damned things as it may be against the law as the carcass might pollute the water. I couldn’t just chuck it in one of the fields for the Kites and crows to eat. Well I could but the neighbours might get pissed about it. So what to do? I scratched my head. I scratched it again. I thought about it long and hard and after 3 or 4 seconds of thinking hard thoughts I put the carcass in a carrier bag, dumped it in the bin and let the bin men take it. They came today. Problem solved. I just hope any other critters that decide to snuff it do so in their sleep on a thursday night so they can go in the rubbish the next day. Unless its a bloody horse!20150904_084208

I think the bin men might notice if I binned a whole horse. Crikey, this farming lark is difficult. Decisions, decisions.

Time to go feed the animals again, water the crops, scratch Chalkys chest and throw his balls around the fields for him to chase.20150903_113235

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.auto

Beard Update

Not had an up date on my beard for ages. I still have it. The beard that is!185009

Clit Eatswood, the beaver, comes and wiggles around in it quite often and certainly seems to enjoy the experience. It’s pleasant for me too.beard2

I must admit though I’m beginning to get a bit bored with it and thinking about having a Hollywood face in the near future. I’ll have to wait for the tan to fade though as a two-tone face is NOT a good look but then again having a beard and looking like Uncle Albert isn’t too great either. I will let you know if and when it gets shaved off.uncle albert

Have a smashing day.

More Dick soon.

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Investigation

A few days ago I wrote a post about my sons graduation. Most of the post was of photos we had taken during the day as I felt they expressed how proud PIL and I are better than I could put into words. In one of the photos, the blonde girl standing behind Ed is obviously vexed about something.Ellgrad14

Many of you (ok, one of you) asked if I knew what it was about. I didn’t although I too was curious. So I carried out a thorough investigation. This is what I discovered:Ellgrad16

“I’ll just stand here so I can be seen.”

Ellgrad15

“Did you just grab my bottom?”

“Er. No. Never touched you.”

“Oh so it was the Ghost of Christmas Past was it? Someone did and you’re closest.”

“Perhaps it was Mr Tickle .”

Ellgrad14

“Listen pal. You touch me again and I’ll rip your arms off. I don’t want this official photo spoiled by a dork like you.”

“But it wasn’t me. Although I must say you do have a jolly nice bottom.”

“Watch it pal.”

Ellgrad13

“That’s no reason to grab it! Try it again and you WILL suffer the consequences. I am a black belt in Origami and I’ll fold you up like a flamingo.”

“Gosh! How splendid! I assure you however that I did not grab your bottom.” Then adding in a whisper;

” I merely caressed its lovely smooth curves.”

Ellgrad12

“Don’t even think about it sunshine.”

“Perfectly ok . Fancy a shag later?”

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However, this only what I think happened and was said. It may have been something completely different. We will never know.

Have a great day.

More Dick soon.

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Norman. Usted Es Un Mojado Propenso a Accidente Tonto

 

Previously on iplonker:

My mate Norm had been asked by one of our canoeing friends to install a new central heating system in his house. Ralph was filthy rich and lived in a huge house in an expensive area of London. As I recall, the house was one of those big Victorian houses that was three or four storeys high. It also had a basement converted into a self-contained two bed flat that Ralph rented out to a Spanish guy and his wife. It was a lovely house with beautiful gardens. Ralph lived there with his wife and children although his kids spent most of the time away at boarding school.

Norm was most of the way through his plumbing apprenticeship and did know how to do this kind of thing. The plan was that after finishing work each day he would go to Ralph’s gaff and spend a few hours each evening putting the new system in place. Ralph would buy the kit and pay cash to Norm each week for all his work.north-hollywood-plumbing-service

Norm carried out a site survey, sorted out what size boiler was needed as well as the amount of pipes, pumps and sundry other stuff required to complete the task. Norm duly arrived to start work.

Ooooooo. Anyone home?

Ooooooo. Anyone home?

Ralph was impressed. He told Omar and I that Norm was always on time, the new boiler looked like something from the Starship Enterprise, the pipe work was all straight, the new radiators hung level and Norm cleared up any mess every evening when he had finished.

Norman hard at it

Norman hard at it

After a few weeks, the job was basically finished. All Norm had to do was charge the system and he was finished. As Norm wandered around the house he couldn’t help thinking that he’d forgotten something and that worried him. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the thermostat cover wasn’t on properly. “Ah.” He thought. “That’s it.” So he sorted that out and strolled upstairs to the attic to start charging the system.

walking down stairs

He wanted to let Ralph know but he’d disappeared somewhere. Ralph’s wife, Cindy, was away visiting her mother, the kids were all at school and Manuel was in his flat entertaining friends.

So off he trundled on his lonesome up to the attic and turned the water on to fill all the radiators. After opening the stop cock tap thingy, he ambled back downstairs to wait until the rads had filled and then start bleeding air out of the radiators. When he got to the hall by the front door, Manuel suddenly appeared:

Aspersion de agua hay en todas partes!” he shouted at a somewhat startled Norman.

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Que idiota. Mi piso esta arruinado!” Manuel continued.

Mis amigos son totalmente empapado, asi!

“Whoa. Hold on Manuel old son. You’re not in Rome now you silly frog. Speak bloody English” replied Norm. “And why are you soaking wet?”

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Then the penny dropped and Norm remembered what he’d forgotten. All the connection nuts where the pipes went into the radiators were only finger tight! He’d forgotten to tighten them up!

With a rising sense of panic and doom Norm legged it back to the attic to turn the water off again. On reaching the attic he ran along the rafter to get to the stop cock tap thingy.

Emergency-Plumbing

CRASH as he slipped and put one leg either side of the rafter and his feet suddenly appeared in the master bedroom.

SQUELCH went his testicles as they met the rafter.

SPLAT went his nose as it hit a supporting beam, spraying snot and claret all over the attic.

BANG went his arms as they too appeared in the master bedroom.

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OH DEAR!” thought Norman as, despite his injuries and excruciating pain, he struggled to turn the water off. As he turned the tap off he happened to glance down into the bedroom and noticed that despite all the commotion, Ralph was busily boffing Maria the au pair! She could see what had happened and was struggling to escape from under Ralphs heaving body. Ralph, totally oblivious to what was going on, was entirely convinced that Marias moans and writhing were entirely as a result of his performance. Until, that is, a large lump of plaster fell off the ceiling and landed on his arse!

“Cindy! Darling! It’s not what it seems….oh” Ralph shouted before looking up and seeing Norms destroyed face covered in blood and snot looking down at him.

“Uh. Hello Ralph. Hello Maria.” said Norm innocently. “Sorry mate, I seem to have had a bit of an accident.”

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“I hope you don’t mind me saying mate, but I couldn’t help noticing. Did you know you have an enormous zit on your arse?” said Norm while a steady flow of his blood dripped onto the bed several feet below him.

Once Ralph had put his clothes back on, Maria had rushed off to her room, Norm had rearranged his testicles and stemmed the flow of blood from his busted nose they surveyed the damage. The basement was under 3 or 4 inches of water, the walls were dripping and 4 bedraggled Spaniards sat miserably in the kitchen area.

Home-Flooded

Ralph and Norman came to an arrangement. Ralphs wife was away for a few more days so a plasterer was organised, Norm was sworn to secrecy regarding what he had witnessed and everyone continued as if nothing had ever happened.

Norm told us this story a few days later in our local pub. He had a big plaster on his hooter, two black eyes and his testicles were the size and colour of a couple of cricket balls. Yes, he got them out and showed us. It was that kind of pub! He estimated the water was travelling at about 70 mph when it hit that first joint. Not surprising really that it had sprayed gallons of water everywhere.

Ralph continued coming to our classes. He knew we knew but nothing was ever said. Maria continued as the au pair for another year or so but there was apparently no more hanky panky. Manuel and his wife eventually went back to Spain and Ralphs wife Cindy remained completely unaware. Obviously, names have been changed in this story to protect the innocent and not quite so innocent.

My thanks to Shutterstock and the Intertube for the images

Have a smashing day.

More Dick soon.

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