Wednesday, 7 April 2010

Heartwarming story...

Arthur Mollusc is a mechanical engineer, and owns a garage in the next village over the hill, Lladosyllaer.

Arthur works hard at the garage. He has a son named Nesbit (don’t ask), and a daughter, Spondella, who walks with a limp. Terry Limp actually lives on the other side of the street, and occasionally visits his girlfriend for an evening of passion and a bottle of Mackeson each.

Nesbit was working on a rather natty sports car one day, when into the workshop walked Esquith Blimley-Lobis, who is an eminent heart surgeon at the General Hospital, and a friend to all in the village. Nesbit offered his very oily hand, which Esquith shudderingly – if reluctantly - declined on account of his white shirt and Daks becoming in danger of stubborn stains, but he gave Nesbit a hearty ‘hello’, and explained that his motor car was making a strange noise somewhere near the bonnet, and could someone take a quick look at it.

Nesbit immediately dropped what he was doing, (possibly to the future annoyance of the owner of the delicate glass headlight bulb), and walked through the door to see a sparkling Lagonda casually leaning up against the far fence. Esquith flipped the bonnet with some sort of space gun, and Nesbit peered inside, only to crow with delight when he withdrew holding a piece of equipment which had come loose. Within seconds, he’d reaffixed the offending item, and hesitated a moment for one last look at the beautiful engine.

“Mr Blimley-Lobis” he said slowly, “I can repair a car by opening the cylinder head, removing the valves and piping, cleaning the surrounding areas, replacing the damaged items, fitting new valves, and setting up the whole machine for several more years work. For this I get paid £20,000 a year. You and I do exactly the same job, yet you get paid £1,500,000 a year, so how does this happen”?

Esquith thought for a moment, and leaned towards Nesbit, and finally – and kindly, whispered, “Try doing that with the engine running...”!


rvi said...

Car blimey Scrobs, I do like you - always get straight to the heart of the matter.

(I'll get my coat on the way out)

Scrobs... said...

Reevers, 'Car blimey'!

Does this mean we're still on the previous compo post...?

I was going to do a rant on Gordon Drown's last thirty days, but everyone else is doing that, so I'll let them get on with it!

(WV Mangin - Marvellous!)

rvi said...

No sir, that was not a typographicalogical mistypitude; 'twas deliberate er.. humour.. in keeping with the thrust (torque if you prefer) of your posting.

That'll teach me to keep (oops, I typed jeep there!) my fingers out of other people's bonnets.

Philipa said...

Good story, Scrobs. Reminds me of my mums triple bypass. I'll be happier when surgery is like on Star Trek though. Or better still like in Hogwarts.

Scrobs... said...

Reevers, I thought it was funny, and hope you'll continue to post similar!

There's already too much serious squabbling on TV, except that this morning, the Beeb made Gordon Drowning's gaffs of yesterday, about third or fourth story, behind the old re-run of the German doctor yawn yarn!

They really are the pits at the moment.

Scrobs... said...

Too right Pips!

Like the Hogwarts analogy too!

How about ET's way then?

Philipa said...
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