Dick wrote: ↑Wed May 13, 2020 7:24 am
Oh dear... go and have a little lie down and nurse friel will be along soon
The best medication for that scenario is for nurse to blindfold John. He then has to guess the colour of her knickers by licking them. Just don't tell him it's a male nurse.
Had my own little run in with a tyre centre yesterday. Bathwick Tyres, they are a part of a large group whom the parent company is Protyre, I think. The previous day I had left the MG's punctured spare wheel with them. They explained that the inner tube would have to be replaced, no one does puncture repairs anymore. The next day they phoned, the tyre is ready. "How much do I owe you?" I asked. "Good question," the caller replied, cue much shuffling of paper, tap, tapping of keyboard, finally he said: "Six pounds eighty three, including the VAT."
That same afternoon I called by to collect the spare wheel, the shuffling of paper and the ten minutes of keyboard tap, tapping were repeated. "That will be fifteen pounds please, Sir," said the tyre fitter. "Are you sure?" I said, "Of course," he replied. His mate then looked over and told him to do this, tap that, do the hokey cokey and twirl about. The chap looked puzzled, but he tapped this and that and finally said, "Six pounds eighty three please."
Later, I regaled my missus with the story, "Nice little earner," she replied. "Yes," I agreed, "and if I hadn't checked the price on the phone, I would have paid fifteen pounds, thinking that it was reasonable, because the MG's tyres are rare and cost eighty five quid apiece, so fifteen pounds compared to eighty five does seem reasonable." Shysters.