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Articles Wanted - Discount Vanish A4 Printer and New Carpet

By Ray Lewis on Nov 20, 08 09:00 AM


I was in my loft the other day and found a half drunk cup of tea. I hadn't been in there for almost three months. I have since found a glass half full of wine behind the rubber plant in the bathroom and on Sunday morning, the normally bustling bird table in my garden was silent and almost deserted.

All the birds were perched on the fence - scared off by a bright yellow and black predator in the shape of a half drunk can of Boddingtons Bitter. These are not unusual occurrences at my house because I'm a carrier.

There is a phenomenon I discovered in my youth and have never forgotten to this day, I call the Tartan Triangle. It's not a euphemism for one of Billy Connolly's patriotic loincloths, or even what you might glimpse if you peeped into Lorraine Kelly's shower. The Tartan is Younger's Tartan, which was my preferred beer in the early 1970s. The triangle, like its namesake around Bermuda, is a mysterious area where beer vanishes. In the bars and clubs of Whitley Bay, Blyth and Bedlington I frequented in my youth, if you put your pint down and turned your back for a second it was gone. Even Father Jack "drink, feck" Hackett could have learned a trick or two from the locals.

Consequently, I soon learned to look after my beer and to this day, I'm a carrier. Everywhere I go my beverage goes with me. Unfortunately, nowadays, I have the attention span of a goldfish's dropping and it very often doesn't come back. It has never been a big problem though, as the drinking vessels are eventually found and returned to the kitchen.

What is a big problem is that I have now become a spiller - a dribble here, a carpetful there. The cost of my tipples is twice that of everyone else's as I only ever get to drink half of them. I spill whilst sitting still. I spill when standing up and I spill on the move. My wife now keeps a bottle of Vanish and a supply of cloths in every room.

She bought me one of those unspillable baby cups, which worked fine until I lost it in the garage. It was her fault. She sent me in there to get a new pack of Vanish.

She suggested I drink my wine from a pint glass instead of a wineglass, working on the theory that most of my accidents are not full spillages, but the odd splash caused when gesticulating with drink in hand. Unfortunately it's difficult to gauge what would be a wineglass full when you're pouring it into a pint glass - especially when you've had a few - and I ended up drinking and spilling twice as much.

It's also unfortunate that the colour of my preferred wine - as any casual observer of my washing line would know, is not white. All of my clothes have a hint of red polka dot. And visitors to my living room could be forgiven for thinking the once plain green carpet was designed with a colour scheme inspired by an episode of the Muppets called 'Kermit Gets The Measles.'

It's ironic really. I wrote this blog with only a beer for company and was about to print the first draft when my printer ran out of paper. I put my glass down freeing my hands to open a pack of A4, but unfortunately I placed it on the mouse cable and it toppled from the desk. My cute little laser printer that was expecting 20 sheets of Asda's finest was more than a little shocked to instead receive a half pint of John Smiths down its paper chute. It reacted in the only way it knew how. It went bang and coughed out a mini mushroom cloud of acrid smoke.

I now need a new printer, my wife wants a new carpet and all my spare cash has vanished buying Vanish. Anyone know where I can get one of those drinking helmets?







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