Good Evening :o
Now looky here. I realise that my stock in the forum is at a bit of a low ebb right now what with me turning to Islam and the Prophet Mohammad (may the shining countenance of Bobby Moore smile benighnly upon him) and that some of you perceive me to be nought but a 2 fisted borderline psychotic brute whos idea of reasoned argument is a good larruping with a weighted cosh.
However I intend to allay your fears and assail your deep misconceptions by announcing proudly and without hesitation that last Tuesday I deliberately and with considerable malice aforethought set fire to my work colleagues apprentice :)
Now before the humanists and faint hearted among you (glances nervously towards Beans x 3) throw up your hands in horror and disgust at my incendiary jape, allow me to set your minds at ease by informing your that the object of my fiery fury is a deeply unpleasant little oik, spotty of visage, ginger of hair and sticky out of ear whose oft voiced opinions on the opposite species and those who are not descended from doughty Anglo Saxon stock would have the most misogynistic member of the White Supremacy Movement furiously jamming the switchboard at The Race Relations board.
That said I shall begin my tale at the point when my guvnor rather impudently requested that I put down my copy of Popular Shipping Bulletin incorporating Low Pressure Lovelies and replace the lower suspension arm and anti roll bar on one of Henry Fords finest.
So with a heavy heart and a curse on my lips I gamely set to.
At this point I couldn't help but notice that my beloved set of Torx wrenches, a vital tool in the aforementioned task were somewhat conspicuous by their absence from my roll cab.
A quick but diligent search of the workshop soon bore fruit as I found the steely little beauties lying warm and snug in the toolbox of the young scallywag mentioned in the above.
With veins pulsing rythemically in my temples and with black murder in my heart I started to prowl the shop for the light fingered lunk.
Eventually I discovered him dozing fitfully in the locker room with his legs propped on a table. Ah bless.
Never being a man to miss the main chance I nipped out and seized a syphon pump of highly inflammable but rather delicious brake cleaning fluid and proceeded to douse his lower calf and ankle with the explosive elixir :)
A quick flick of my Zippo set the whole thing off very nicely as I quickly took up position outside the room to await results.
I wasn't kept waiting long as the door soon burst open and the slightly flustered figure of the blazing little bugger raced across the workshop to the gentleman's retreats and the watery respite that lay within its portals.
At this point my long suffering chum Tony who has the unenviable task of trying to instill a modicum of engineering skill into the ginger little twunt, glanced up from his Racing Press and somewhat laconically observed "Blimey! Look at that mate. It's the ******* 'uman torch."
The following day my joy was complete as the nicely singed jackanapes morosely told us over a bacon sarnie that when he had removed his "Tilburys" (hosiery) that evening several layers of skin had come off with 'em :)
I hope that this brief albeit searing tale (see what I....... etc) will go some way towards enhancing my standing amongst our little community and that the lurid rumours that I live my life according to the Ronnie Kray doctrine that "If you can make people afraid of you, you can achieve anything in life" can be finally and once and for all be put firmly to bed :imu:
I wonder have any of you ever assaulted, maimed or even murdered a work colleague who has given you a spot of the ravin' ump.
G'wan. You can tell me, I'm a mechanic.
Next week:
How I wired the wages bird's ignition to a cylinder of acetylene after she worked out my tax all wrong.
This was brought to you by The Health And Safety At Work Council.
