The pull cord in my bathroom that turns the shower on is bust and I need to put in a new switch. To get an electrician round would cost £65, plus VAT. I decide to do it myself, but maybe it’s more complicated than I thought? The switch has a little light on it and everything. I phone my dad.
‘Yes, ‘course you can just do it yourself. It’s simple. You’re meant to get an electrician these days, but that’s all come from the EU.’ For my dad, everything can be traced back to the EU somehow. The EU or muslims.
My dad offers me a lift to B&Q. He comes round the next morning so it turns out that I am out when the health visitor comes. My mum tagged along with dad so she could see the baby, but she ends up making herself busy in the kitchen while the health visitor quizzes Lynne. Where were our parents born? How were we coping financially? Did we take drugs? Was Lynne a victim of domestic abuse? The health visitor points out that if Lynne told her anything that concerned her, she would have to pass it on to social services. It’s lucky that my mum was in the kitchen leafing through recipe books while the health visitor was saying all this; if she’d heard it she would have gone berserk.
Of course, the only box the health visitor could tick after speaking to Lynne is the one marked Smug. The health visitor weighs the baby who is now a whopping 9lbs. Oh, and I forgot to mention the umbilical chord has completely come away and I am please to confirm that my child has a beautiful innie belly button.
B&Q with my dad is a blast. We look at drill bits and argue about whether treacherous politically correct town councils are trying to rebrand Christmas as Winterval to appease the muslim community. I opine that it’s all a bunch of tabloid bullshit, while he thinks that this used to be a Great Country. Look at it now. I’m scared to ask what he thinks is wrong with it in case I’m disappointed with the answer. Instead I tell him he should stop buying the Sun. He says that he only buys it for the puzzles. I don’t believe this. The puzzles in the Sun are really easy.
It turns out he is right though. Rewiring the switch in the bathroom is a piece of piss.
‘Yes, ‘course you can just do it yourself. It’s simple. You’re meant to get an electrician these days, but that’s all come from the EU.’ For my dad, everything can be traced back to the EU somehow. The EU or muslims.
My dad offers me a lift to B&Q. He comes round the next morning so it turns out that I am out when the health visitor comes. My mum tagged along with dad so she could see the baby, but she ends up making herself busy in the kitchen while the health visitor quizzes Lynne. Where were our parents born? How were we coping financially? Did we take drugs? Was Lynne a victim of domestic abuse? The health visitor points out that if Lynne told her anything that concerned her, she would have to pass it on to social services. It’s lucky that my mum was in the kitchen leafing through recipe books while the health visitor was saying all this; if she’d heard it she would have gone berserk.
Of course, the only box the health visitor could tick after speaking to Lynne is the one marked Smug. The health visitor weighs the baby who is now a whopping 9lbs. Oh, and I forgot to mention the umbilical chord has completely come away and I am please to confirm that my child has a beautiful innie belly button.
B&Q with my dad is a blast. We look at drill bits and argue about whether treacherous politically correct town councils are trying to rebrand Christmas as Winterval to appease the muslim community. I opine that it’s all a bunch of tabloid bullshit, while he thinks that this used to be a Great Country. Look at it now. I’m scared to ask what he thinks is wrong with it in case I’m disappointed with the answer. Instead I tell him he should stop buying the Sun. He says that he only buys it for the puzzles. I don’t believe this. The puzzles in the Sun are really easy.
It turns out he is right though. Rewiring the switch in the bathroom is a piece of piss.
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