Firstly, a pun. What do you call something with four legs that goes woof? A Barbeque. I reassembled the massive five burner Aldi-Special-offer that has been in boxes for – my! –weeks since moving day. Plugged in the gas bottle, hit the auto-start, hit it again, and on the third time of asking there was a “whump” sound rather like a Qantas engine in mid-flight, and a six foot long sheet of flame toasted any pests within arm-length. Who would imagine that burners can come unplugged? Once I’d finished beating out the smouldering shrubbery and put my eyebrows back in order, I staggered back inside. “It’s all fine love.” Not wishing to alarm “Ready, steady, lets cook”.
“Great, can you wipe down all the spiders webs from the window?
I looked through 150 years of murk at the grimy piece of glass that purports to be a kitchen window, and the ten black widows lurking by the catch. The original owner may have blown 200 punds (as the deeds spell it) of his own cash on this land nearly two centuries ago, but no one has thought to spend a penny on it cleaning it since.
A gallon of free surface spray and the blighters staggered off, quietly expiring. No punds, in ten dead, leaving me with a polishing job.
The barbecue worked, I’m glad to say I didn’t warm the house more explosively than intended, and the hovel was roundly applauded.
