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STORIES  AND EBAY SALES

1     AN OLD LAND ROVER
2     EBAY
3     SELLING AN OLD LAND ROVER  
4     SELLING WHEELS AND TYRES
5     A NEW JOB AT THE FUNERAL PARLOUR
6     SELLING VIDEO CAMERA
7     MY BIRTHDAY TODAY
8     WITCHERY PART ONE
9     SELLING CANVAS HOOD
10   WITCHERY PART TWO
11   SELLING CARAVAN HITCHDRIVE 
12   WITCHERY PART THREE
13   SELLING RATCHET STRAPS  
14   WITCHERY PART FOUR
15   SELLING GOAL POSTS  
16   WITCHERY PART FIVE
17   SELLING A HI VIZ COAT
18   WITCHERY PART SIX

19   SELLING 3 TONNES OF CLAY    
2O  WITCHERY PART SEVEN
21   SELLING A WHEEL CLAMP
22   SHOPPING AND THE HESITANT DOORS
23   SELLING AN OLD PAIR OF BOOTS

24   THE REAL DE VINCI CODE

25   MY GUITAR AND AMP

26   SELLING MOTORBIKE PANNIERS

27   HALLOWEEN

28 SELLING A HIGHWAY CODE

29 ZEN AND THE ART OF  LAND ROVER MAINTENANCE

30  SELLING A CIGARETTE LIGHTER AND A TRIP TO SCOTLAND

31  CHRISTMAS LIGHT RAGE

32  METAMORPHOSIS

33 SELLING AN AMBER BEACON

34 THE UNIVERSE IS A  BIG PLACE

35 SELLING A  BLOW LAMP

36 SELLING BOOTS UPDATE

37 SELLING A  TORCH

38 SELLING A MOTORBIKE JACKET

39 SELLING A POWER JUICER

40 SELLING A HORSE WHIP

41 THE BOAT

42 SELLING LAND ROVER SIDE STEPS

43 SELLING A  TOW / RECOVERY CHAIN

44 SELLING LAND ROVER BULL BARS

45 SELLING THE FOGGYDAVE CARRIER BAG

46 CARAVAN RAGE OR AGINCOURT DEUXIEME PARTIE

 

 

 

STORY 42    SELLING LANDROVER SIDE STEPS

Where my wife's itchy trigger finger causes white van man to turn red

PDF file of original Ebay advert

                 

Below is a transcript of the description on the original Ebay advert

 

The reason I am selling this item is told below

 

My wife has difficulty getting into the land rover. She says it’s because of her wooden leg, I say its because the doors on a Lightweight Land Rover are just not big enough. How a 20 stone squady is expected to dive in and out of them I do not know.

My dearest had whittled on for ages about getting some side steps so that she may get on and alight from the vehicle in a dainty lady like manner. She had found on more than one occasion when boarding, Bernard the postie looking at her ankles. (I think he was wondering how they could support the weight from above without snapping.)

 I therefore bought a set of standard fold down Defender type steps off of Ebay, and with a bit of fettling duly fitted them to my lightweight Land Rover in the hope that the wife would be pleased at my thoughtfulness and that many browny points would be added to the list, which I must say, of late has tended to the minus side what with the gala fiasco, where, because of (allegedly) my bad welding she had had a near death experience,  her butcher had experienced a real dying one,  PC Blenkinsops mind had melted and a large shire horse named Napoleon was on tranquilisers. (see story 40 on my web site) 

But the steps were not the sort she had envisaged. Once again I was reminded in very painful ways (of the squeezing sort) that I had once again misinterpreted her vague thoughts. I had bought the standard fold down steps, what she wanted was the Landrover Discovery type running board steps that are for sale. For apart from aiding  boarding and alighting  she wanted to use them  like the running boards as used by American gangsters in those old James Cagney films. I thought she wanted some steps to enable her to get into the Land rover without lifting her skirts, but no! What she wanted was a running board she could stand on when I was driving along and so be better able to berate and threaten other road users.

How many times do you do something for your wife only to be told ‘That’s not what I meant’. When she says what she wants, her mind has a completely different picture to yours. This is no more apparent than when you buy presents.

 

A week before Xmas

“What do you want for Christmas”?

“Oh buy me anything I don’t mind. You choose”.

“I don’t know”.

“Oh just buy me something comfortable to wear in bed”.

And so you buy a flimsy negligee with matching pants hoping this will be a Yule yime to remember. To be greeted on Christmas morning with.

“I hope you kept the bag and the receipt”

No! What she wanted was a full length winceyette nightie with buttons at the neck and matching moon boots to keep her feet warm.

I just give money and put it in one of those mushy, lovey dovey cards.

It is though very suspicious that when I do this the amount of money will never quite cover the cost of what she wants to buy and so the money she gave me with my card is immediately clawed back to spend in the January sales.

One of the most dangerous presents to get is the ‘You buy what you want and I will pay for it’ presents, for inevitably the question will be asked.

“How much can I spend?”

What she really asked is.

“What value do you put on this relationship?”

So you say a ridiculous figure knowing full well that she will spend twice the amount because she happened to fall in love with the more expensive or bigger item.

I have come to the conclusion the best present is the ‘It’s the thought that counts’ type, where you buy a cheap cuddly Teddy Bear or similar with the mushy card.

 

I am sorry I digress. Back to the story and the lightweight Landrover.

You may ask why my little toxic pickle does not shout and gesticulate through the window? I do not know if the reader is aware of how small a land rovers windows are especially the older sort that slide backwards

 

 

Now my wife has very broad shoulders and biceps that are the pride of the fleet and the only berating that could be done were quiet ones by small hand gestures, she dare not lean out of the window for fear of getting stuck. So when she was a passenger all her frustrations were taken out on me. With shouts of

“Catch him up, ram him, run him off the road, let me drive I will have him”, etc etc.

 With her grabbing the steering wheel in excitement almost wrenching it out of my hands. Ramming her wooden leg into the floor thinking she was stamping on the accelerator. And generally getting very excited and sweaty.

Therefore  the old steps were taken off and I fitted some old running boards off a Landrover Discovery. I also took the passenger door off (On a lightweight Land Rover the doors just lift off the hinges much as a garden gate) 

So off we go. Driving along, my wife sitting, Tibetan Yak dung pipe gritted tightly in mouth her body half in and half out of the motor. As always happens when one is driving a slow motor someone will always try to get in front regardless of whom they force off the road when doing so, in this case it was white van man in a very new and shiny Transit van that leaving very little room for manoeuvre cut in front of us. I would not have minded but there was no one else in the vicinity at the time.  I flashed my lights to show my annoyance, the van driver gave me the two finger salute. I have long ago learnt to take little notice of these gestures but not so my My wife ‘Kicker of the cod piece’.  With a growl she opened her handbag and bought forth a shiny black paintball gun. At first glance I thought it was a real machine gun.

 Panic set in.

 

My wife coming from the now lost island of Sarekian has a set of deeply entrenched values often alien to the European mind. For example she is a great believer in the practice of the vendetta, medieval torture, and the dark arts. Take driving for instance. Where we would turn the other cheek or dismiss the actions and gesticulations of other drivers as ‘just one of those little niggles,’ She would take as a gross insult. Many are the shopping trolley rages when my little Golden Wart Warrior goes to the Co Op. Every nudge or aisle blocking treated as an international incident, every wrong till entry met with scorn, derision and a call for the manager. Some would say she is on the edge but knowing her I knew she was completely sane and in control. All her actions are done with forethought and meticulous planning. Just the other week Mrs Jones happened to push my little ‘Glenfield Goblins’ shopping trolley out of the way as it was blocking the aisle. My dearest then spent half an hour stalking her around the store until she approached the checkout when my wife accidentally on purpose barged into her trolley knocking it over and scattering Mrs Jones and all her hard won tins and jars across the floor. To add insult to injury my wife then pushed her body out of the way with her trolley so that she could get to the cash out first.

 

I digress again, sorry about that, back to the story.

 As I was saying she grabbed the paint ball gun and  leaned out of the motor pointing the gun at the back of the van  pressing  the trigger. The rear of the van suddenly developed a bad case of measles as with a phut, phut, phut the paint balls left the gun and with a thwack, thwack, thwack, the balls splattered into the back of the van. I suppose I should have stopped our Landrover but I was mesmerized, although I was eventually forced to stop as the van screeched to a halt, the driver getting out and walking behind his van to see what the noise was. As well as the van being white the driver also had white overalls on but not for long for as he arrived at the back of his van he was greeted by a hail of red paintballs, my wife showing no mercy kept her finger on the trigger until the gun was empty. By this time the back of the van and the driver had become as one. A mass of dripping paint.  

My wife, smoking pipe gritted in the corner of her mouth uttered the immortal words “ok punk faced dirty rat do you feel lucky cuff him Danno” and got back into the motor, The whole incident that to me lasted 10 minutes took only a few seconds, luckily no one witnessed the carnage and I beat a hasty retreat down the road leaving the van driver stumbling around trying to wipe paint from his eyes.

There was a bit in the paper about a road rage incident where the driver alleged he was attacked by a one legged berserker, and was lucky to escape with his life. The police are investigating.

My wife emboldened by this victory decided to design the ultimate road rage weapon

Lets hope it never gets beyond the design stage, but my dearests  tenacity especially when it comes to making me build things is to say the least gripping (as in gripping parts of my anatomy until the job is done).

So if you are in Leicester and see a lightweight Landrover with tubes and pipes sticking out of the front and rear be very careful. It could be someone transporting guttering and plumbing supplies from B&Q. On the other hand there could be a passenger hiding within with a trembling trigger finger just aching to exact revenge on unsuspecting motorists.  

The reason I am selling the steps is that they fell off  as she was alighting, and she tumbled onto the pavement. Not very  lady like. To make matters worse Bernard the postie was just passing and he saw a bit more than a well turned ankle. Whish is probably why he turned a ghastly pale colour and staggered off staring in a manic wide eyed sort of way.

This little mishap my dearest once again put down to my (allegedly)  bad welding  and said if it had happened at speed she could have been seriously injured (That I should be so lucky) Heh heh heh ……. No only kidding.

 

During the auction I got a few enquiries and questions

 

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I have had a question from  Stevescoots

Q    You know you are a dead man walking when one of her coven read this and dispatch riders out to inform her. I would trade the landrover for a challenger 2, it may buy you some time inside to make peace with the lord as she claws back the armour to get at you!

A    Hi Steve
        On my web site I have long lists. There is the Evil Overlords list and more importantly the Evil Minions. It is clear when reading these lists that the most life threatening thing a minion can do is to give the Evil Overlord or in this case Coven leader bad news. The messenger normally DIES a horrible lingering death. I am also safe in the fact she cannot use a computer due to her banana fingers and huge biceps. My 'Little Hairy Arm Pitted One's attempts at typing are akin to Little Richard belting a tune out on the old ivories. More keys end up on the floor than on the keyboard. Her own computor sadly died a few months ago. I was having a quiet cup of tea in the kitchen when I heard this growling noise coming from the dining room, getting louder by the minute. I shouted "Can I help my love," knowing she was having trouble logging on to her favourite web sites. I then hear a shout of

"TRY COMPUTING THIS YOU MOTHER .........

I rushed in just in time to see her bring her unstrapped wooden leg down upon the computor screen and keyboard (Much like that ape in the SF film 2001 space odyssey). Had it been an animate object she would just have cast a spell and turned it into a food blender or gusset scrubber but as she could not it ended up a mass of broken plastic scattered around the room. (She need not have worried about casting a spell because a month later the bits were recycled into plastic milk bottles). 

 My wife is like the Titanic cleaving its way through the oceans. Just as the great ship casts aside the sea so my dearest casts aside all who stand before her. She cares little about what people think of her or has time for idle gossip. SHE knows that SHE is the boss and to her that is all that matters. More importantly she knows that I know that she is the head honcho. 
Regards Dave

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Yet another message this time from a gentleman named Bruce

 

 Q …. Dear foggydave,

 

Dear Dave, I am very interested in your auction, or more particularly in the story concerning the auction. I work for an engineering company that is often commissioned by certain governmental agencies to construct, shall we say, experimental structures of a secretive and violent nature. Your picture of the proposed modifications to a Landy have caught our attention and we would like to discuss this further with a view to development for HMG and deployment to the field. I could drop by for a chat as i am often in your area meeting suppliers and collecting parts, just the other week i was driving nearby in our company unmarked white transit van on my way to deliver some urgently needed medical equipment for a hush hush project that had to make an RAF flight to the Afghan version of Milton Keynes when my van and myself were rudely attacked by what on first inspection i believed to be a member of Billy Smarts Circus with a paint ball gun, long story, but please tell me where you live.

 

- brucebettridge

 

 

A ……. Dear Bruce

I have had dealings with the HMG on a recent Ebay auction (See story 23 Selling a Pair Old Boots on Ebay on my web site) Before that was in my youth. My school was actually approved by HMG, from what I can remember they were a bit strict and the teachers dressed in black. Do I get the distinct impression of an implied threat or am I being over sensitive here? and my wife resents the insinuation that she looks like a clown. OK the lipstick is put on with a 4inch brush and the hair is a little, shall we say, frizzy and fluorescent green but that’s because she leaned too far over her cauldron. The bell tent she wears for a dress with associated protuberances are her natural figure (At airports she is always stopped by customs who cannot believe she does not have balloons full of narcotics stuffed under her dress). And she is rather lacking in colour sense. Anyway apart from that and a few skin complaints she is rather fetching, in a WWW wrestler type way. Just remember anyone who messes with me messes with the wife, and she casts a mean spell. Just think you could be known as Bruce the frog or Bruce the pile of goo in the corner. Who knows???????

But I am sure that all this implied menace is only my imagination. All I will say is that you may work for an engineering company that makes structures of a secretive and violent nature. But you cannot in your wildest imaginings begin to comprehend the secretive and violent structure that is my wife.

 

Regards Dave

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Copyright © David B Forrester 2009

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