Posted on by JonnyB

My wardrobes have arrived!!!

I got them off the ebay. I have been doing loads of shopping there recently. It is brilliant if you are in a community like ours. The wholesale massacre of rural shops by Mr Blair’s government means that there is no shop in the village where you can buy a wardrobe. It is all right for people like me who drive, but it is the old folk that suffer.

As we still have no telly, I decide to assemble them.

About forty-five minutes into the task, I realise the problem with figure (2). There is a dowel that is meant to attach part #7 to the base support part #3, but there is nowhere to insert it. It foxes me for ages. There is no hole!!! There is no hole where I am expecting a hole. I feel like Ray Davies in the song ‘Lola’.

It seems obvious that there is a discrepancy between the instructions and the actual parts, or at least part #7 (and possibly base support part #3). This may mean negative feedback!!! It is exciting.

I email the vendor about my hole issue. There also seems to be a notch issue as well, which means that my simple solution, to create a user-generated hole using a drill, will not work unless I create a user-generated notch using a saw and chisel. I am a bit shy of doing this ever since the debacle in the last property I owned, where I took several thousand pounds off the value of the home by adjusting the fitted wardrobes in the same sort of fashion.

I do not know if any readers can assist, as the vendor has yet to get back to me. If it is any help, it is part #7 we are talking about; base support part #3 seems to be generally sound except for the notch situation.

I leave the bedroom festooned with unpacked wood, and go to ring the aerial men again.

Posted on by JonnyB

I put my foot down on the ‘fast’ pedal as I scoot through the country lanes.

Up the single track stretch, round the bendy bit, past the old mill. The car responds to my every expert subtle touch, like a woman who is desperate. We slow as we approach the hamlet, as per the 30mph signs.

With the relaxation that comes from not being in any particular hurry, I flash my lights to allow an oncoming Range Rover to turn right. It is HM The Queen driving, with her husband HRH The Duke of Edinburgh. She has her headscarf on, like she does in the pictures.

There are two ways in which you can behave when you see a well-known celebrity person. You can gawp and goggle and point, or you can be all cool and not particularly acknowledge them. As HM The Queen is a class act, she does the latter. So does her husband HRH The Duke of Edinburgh. That is breeding for you.

I am impressed that she does not have her police with guns with her. If I was allowed to have police with guns with me, I would take them everywhere. It would be fucking cool. But that is the difference between us. She does not care about being fucking cool, as she is HM the Queen. Hence the scarf. Plus she herself is probably a better shot than I am if there is any trouble. She could shoot any extremist terrorists in an ambush whilst her husband shouted well-crafted racist abuse.

I pull onto the road that takes me home to the Village. “That was HM The Queen” I explain to Baby Servalan, who is looking unbothered in the passenger seat.

Posted on by JonnyB

The Village Pub is packed.

“It’s packed in here,” I remark observantly, pushing my way towards the bar with determination, but not with so much determination that I risk getting there before somebody notices me and offers to buy me a pint.

I settle in my Usual Preferred Place in a cramped fashion. Ray stands next to me at the bar, caressing a big glass of wine with eager yet tender hands. I do not usually mention Ray, for no particular reason, but what you need to know as a reader is that he is always in the Village Pub.

“Surprised to see you in here,” I remark, demonstrating the wit with which I am nationally and internationally renowned (nb hence the explanation above, as he is actually always in there, so I am being humorously ironic).

“Yes – I’ve actually moved in,” he replies.

I laugh politely at his sub-me sarcastic humour.

“No – I have actually moved in here,” he insists. “My house is damaged after the gales. So I told the insurance company that I was going to move in here, and they said ‘right-o'”.

I gape at him.

“My car’s a slight wreck as well,” he continues. “A bit of somebody’s roof fell on it.”

But I am not listening. He has moved in to the Village Pub!!! It is, like, his home!!! I am flabbergasted.

It seems to me that there are two types of people in the world. There are the 99.9521% of us who would have our house bashed up in a storm and who would live with it, being miserable in the cold and wet and TVless status quo. And there are the other 0.0479%, to whom it would occur to telephone the insurance company and demand that they are moved in to the Village Pub.

I grab my pint, looking at him with new respect.

Posted on by JonnyB

Weekend News Round-Up

Thank you for your good wishes. I am feeling fine now, thank you.

Reader Alan Sloman is walking from Land’s End to John o’ Groats!!! He is clearly barking mad, but to be fair the A30 is a bit of a nightmare at any time of year, and trains are too expensive especially 1st class.

You can give him money, for the hospices. I have only had good experience of hospices; they are great.

Tom the Ambulanceman wants a free laptop!!! He has broken ranks and got involved with the – er – ‘a bit flawed’ Love to Lead blog PR campaign run by Charlton Communications for Toshiba. Since I told them that there was no way top blog people would hand over traffic and content to their site without being paid, he has made me look an Idiot and Wrong.

Boooooo….he is undignified and a scab, but also seems a Nice Chap, is a good friend of a good friend and would like a new laptop. So go vote for him here.

Suggest not bothering to leave your email address on the voting page.

I still have no TV!!!