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hirez"If you ever wondered how you get triangles from a cow
It takes buttermilk and cheese and an equilateral chainsaw..."
Some years ago, I was living in a shared house (Humblebee. Remember that name - it's legendary) in the middle of nowhere. The sort of place that aliens wouldn't visit because the natives would take the piss and thieve their saucer.
Anyway. It was dark and cold, and we had a washing machine that rattled and bounced around like an over-excited piercing-freak and then started to shed bits like a speeding stripper. Finally it threw its belts and sulked.
This was serious business. There's few fouler things than staggering downstairs with a screaming hangover to be confronted with a bathtub full of Mark's socks and grundies festering in their own slime.
One night, Ed decided to take action. He hoiked the machine from its horrible little corner, prised the back off it with a big screwdriver and set to with mole-grips and a hammer. I was in the kitchen, guzzling bacon sandwiches and Stella, when there ocurred the following sequence of noises...
*ZAP!* ... *THUD!* ... *AAAAAAAAHHH!*
Mark and I shot into the scullery to find Ed smoking quietly, whimpering and doing the dying fly some six feet from the back of the machine. In his enthusiasm he'd forgotten to turn off the mains and had shorted himself out across the motor.
"Get the ambulance, I'm going to die" he moaned.
"Oh shut up, no-one's going to kick it on our kitchen floor"
As bad luck would have it, young Ed had managed to rip a sizeable gash in the back of his hand due to his somewhat speedy backwards exit from the washing machine. Mark found the least insanitary of the teatowels, hit it soundly with a stick in case it got any funny ideas and wrapped it round Ed's hand. Next stop, casualty.
The hospital in Winchcombe is mostly a geriatric unit, but they do have a small A&E department. We bowled in at half-eleven PeeEmm to find what seemed to be two escaped patients on duty.
"Ooo.. Hello there Edward," went one "remember me to your mother, there's a good boy."
The gash in Ed's hand started to leak on the floor again.
"Now, where's this cut then?" Said the other "I must go and get my
glasses..."
Mark and I found the Lego and women's magazines while they bandaged Ed up.
A fine way to spend a Monday evening...
It takes buttermilk and cheese and an equilateral chainsaw..."
Some years ago, I was living in a shared house (Humblebee. Remember that name - it's legendary) in the middle of nowhere. The sort of place that aliens wouldn't visit because the natives would take the piss and thieve their saucer.
Anyway. It was dark and cold, and we had a washing machine that rattled and bounced around like an over-excited piercing-freak and then started to shed bits like a speeding stripper. Finally it threw its belts and sulked.
This was serious business. There's few fouler things than staggering downstairs with a screaming hangover to be confronted with a bathtub full of Mark's socks and grundies festering in their own slime.
One night, Ed decided to take action. He hoiked the machine from its horrible little corner, prised the back off it with a big screwdriver and set to with mole-grips and a hammer. I was in the kitchen, guzzling bacon sandwiches and Stella, when there ocurred the following sequence of noises...
*ZAP!* ... *THUD!* ... *AAAAAAAAHHH!*
Mark and I shot into the scullery to find Ed smoking quietly, whimpering and doing the dying fly some six feet from the back of the machine. In his enthusiasm he'd forgotten to turn off the mains and had shorted himself out across the motor.
"Get the ambulance, I'm going to die" he moaned.
"Oh shut up, no-one's going to kick it on our kitchen floor"
As bad luck would have it, young Ed had managed to rip a sizeable gash in the back of his hand due to his somewhat speedy backwards exit from the washing machine. Mark found the least insanitary of the teatowels, hit it soundly with a stick in case it got any funny ideas and wrapped it round Ed's hand. Next stop, casualty.
The hospital in Winchcombe is mostly a geriatric unit, but they do have a small A&E department. We bowled in at half-eleven PeeEmm to find what seemed to be two escaped patients on duty.
"Ooo.. Hello there Edward," went one "remember me to your mother, there's a good boy."
The gash in Ed's hand started to leak on the floor again.
"Now, where's this cut then?" Said the other "I must go and get my
glasses..."
Mark and I found the Lego and women's magazines while they bandaged Ed up.
A fine way to spend a Monday evening...
