Wednesday, 1 April 2015

Underpants and Illumination



No point listening here for April fool gags. This site is daft every day of the year. And just to prove it, here’s the lad rambling on about underpants and a torch.

As you probably know, we shot off to the Canary Islands for a week a little while ago. Excellent break, just what we needed but, as usual, we forgot to take one or two items.
Last year, it was my underwear. I laid out my Y-fronts for packing and Her Indoors packed them… back in the bedroom drawer, leaving me in Playa del Ingles with only the pair I had on.
Two thousand miles from my shreddies, although I volunteered to stick with the same pair for the entire holiday, Her Indoors insisted I could not for fear that when we got home, they’d jump out of the case and walk into the washing machine of their own accord. She would need an environment suit before she would be prepared to handle them.
So I had to buy new, and of the half dozen pairs we bought only two fitted properly. I spent the whole week talking in a soprano voice, and when we got home I had a full set of brand new, multi-coloured, designer label dusters for the car.
This year, having checked and double checked that the required number of underpants were present and correct, we got to the Canary Islands only to learn that my walking stick was at home.
You’d think that it shouldn’t be a problem on holiday where all you really wanna do is lounge around the pool, laze on the beach or slump over the pub tables when you’ve had too many vodka shandies.  But Her Indoors is a professional shopper and she has this habit of walking me everywhere… twice.
So I bought a cheap, telescopic stick while I was in Puerto del Carmen. To my surprise, not only was this telescopic, and easily adjusted to suit any height, but it came fitted with a torch.
Remember, you heard it here first. My walking stick has an inbuilt flashlight.
We’ve been home almost a month, the stick has been in my possession for five weeks and I’m still trying to work out who would need a torch fitted to a walking stick. I mean, it’s not like we get fog so bad that you can’t see a hand in front of your face. And I don’t need it to let drivers know I’m walking along the road because I don’t walk along the road. I stick to the pavements.
Then I learned why it was fitted with a torch. It doesn’t work and you’re driven to distraction trying to make it work. In fact it distracts you so much that you don’t notice the little rubber shock absorber has fallen off somewhere between here and Puerto del Carmen, leaving you with a metal end that slides all over the bloody place on paved or tiled floors.
Note to self: in future, make sure you take your stick with you.
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Would you prefer to listen to Flatcap delivering most of this post in his own, inimitable style? Click below.

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