DIY is rubbish, isn’t it?
It’s the Y bit I have a problem with. And also the D. And the I.
I was trying to find some cheap Polish labour but half the cunts are gone back to Poland to take all the jobs that used to be in Ireland, the other half are up in Belfast fighting Northern Ireland fans.
‘What about Stinking Pete or Dirty Dave?’, I hear you say. Yes, I could certainly order them about but you have to remember they are more stupid than a thousand goats.
Dave once wallpapered his entire sitting room. Even the floor. He called it a ‘ground-wall’.
It’s too dangerous to have them do anything so I have to DIM.
Gah. It’s a good excuse for afternoon beer though.
No need to worry the cheap polish labour is still available but only once a month when they come for a 2 day visit to sign on and sell the suitcase of fags they just smuggled in.
If afternoon beer requires an excuse you’re just not doing it right.
Why do women always want stuff done? Why can’t thinks just be left as they are? Fix this, paint that, hang this etc etc. Fuck off, I’m watching soccer
What does it have to do with ‘women’?
They’re always nagging to have stuff done around the house. Stuff that doesn’t really need to be done. That’s obviously not your problem but why else would you be doing diy
Some fella died up in B&Q yesterday.
DIY is balls.Whatever it takes, pay someone competent to do anything.
I tried to hang a simple towel rack lately. Made a balls of it. Gave up.
why else would you be doing diy
Twenty and Twenty Towers is the feature in May “Hello” Magazine – the house with 18 crappers and gold dolphin tap handles
I bought 2 shelves in B & Q Swords yesterday. Lucky for me I don’t live in ….wherever that unlucky cunt got splatted.
I’m fucking dreading the day I decide to put them on a wall. Which will be tonight, maybe.
Some fella died up in B&Q yesterday.
Don’t just to do it, B&Q it.
What happened to him?
Shelves ! What a great idea – I’m currently filling a spare room with books, CDs, empty jam jars etc that normally live on floors so that one of the grubs can clean chez maggot tomorrow.
I just had a really good dump.
Beer and power tools, together at last.
I think a B&Q fence killed him.
Imagine that, unemployed for the first time since you left college in 1982. You drive up to the hardware to get that little tiny light for the oven that your missus has been going on about since it went out in Christmas 2001.
You nearly park the car by the door but for some reason you decide to park over near the fence. You get out, cigarette ash blows into your face as you get out. Then the fence comes loose and impales you in the potted plants section.
Oh, do tell. What I have you DY, besides opening the beer?
I knew the bloke who died. Went up their for some fencing, decent chap, but I would say that he’s dead.
I once took so long to tile a bathroom (about three years from start to finish) that by the time I completed it, my wife hated the tiles and I had to repeat the process.
http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/breaking/2009/0330/breaking23.htm
Jaysis, two knockouts and two deaths, I’d say get your stuff in Woodies
Sorry Rob, no offense intended. And no that’s not a pun.
I did some DIY in my time. I was always very good in that stuff. But recently I decided to give up:
Link
Never again.
Magoo Says:
March 30th, 2009 at 5:21 pm
http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/breaking/2009/0330/breaking23.htm
Jaysis, two knockouts and two deaths, I’d say get your stuff in Woodies
heh
a friend of mine; his ma googled woodies; she was very happy with the result
If God had wanted us to DIY, he would have made at least one of our hands just be a screwdriver. At birth (or on ultrasounds for impatient folk), parents would learn whether their child is Philips head or flathead. A family of six (two parents, four kids), all of whom were flathead, would curse their luck on occasions when a Philips Head screw needed attention.
At least, at least you got to DIAY, Twenty. Drink It All Yourself, that being.
I’ll retrieve my vest.
HM, no offence taken, in fact I was hoping it was decking he was after, getting decked etc.
I mentioned me knowing him as a by the by…
Anyway, no-one should ever come to twenty’s place if they get offended, we all know that. It’s the law, or something.
I liked your scenario, that’s the way I intend to go, minus the intent to actually do any repairs
I drank most of it, not all, Radge.
No laws here, Rob. You know that.
a blog written by cunts and read by cunts
That’s what I meant twenty, the only law is that there are no laws.
It’s more a convention than a law but we won’t split hairs.