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STORIES BY HATTYMENDER  

STORIES BY HELEN WORRALL

 

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

 

 

 

STORY6   SELLING A VIDEO CAMERA

 ON EBAY

Below is the description on the Ebay sale

Additional note to listing

The reason for this sale is as follows

My wife bought this camera a year ago for what she said were “romantic reasons”. Now I thought she meant clips of our outings to various places like stately homes, the seaside, local rubbish tip etc, but no. Oh no, what she wanted it for was for the more amorous pictures to put in “our private library”, scenes of debauchery and wanton sex. Not that I ever wantoned it at all.

Sex, Sex, how can I describe what to other couples is a joyous affair, either to bond their relationship or just an act of pure lust, but to me it is, to put it concisely; purgatory.

To start my wife has to shower for a long, long time, (we then call Dynarod to clear the drains). She then applies 3 cans of extra strength spray deodorant along with four kg of talcum powder. We then have a two-hour window in which to perform before Cinderella like, her skin problems return i.e. open pores, eruptions, pustules etc, and I beat a hasty retreat to the spare room. This may seem to the manlier buyer to be a cowardly act, but in World War One had General Haige had 100 women like my wife, the conflict would have been over in 100 days. All he would have had to do was not let them bath for 90 days, then send the ladies out to wreak chemical and toxic type havoc upon the enemy for the other 10 days.

Whilst my wife is in the shower I “kit” up. The “kit” includes a 6 foot plank for tying across my backside in case of slippage, one miners bird, and a head torch, I also have a coil of rope tied about my waist should the unthinkable happen and slippage take place. This has only happened once before. The cave search and rescue lads still use the methods used in my rescue attempt as a training lesson for the more intricate extraction techniques.

Back to the filming, Holding a camera, and a torch whilst making sure the wide angle lens does not steam up takes a lot of concentration, so “doing” the business was to say the least hard. (Well not hard, more “droopy”, that was the problem) coupled with this was my wife’s insistence that a clapperboard be used. As we did not own one she found a pair of old hedging shears. Now you get someone shouting CAMERA ACTION in your ear, and then snapping shut with great force what in effect was a giant rusty pair of scissors two inches from the family jewels the last thing on your mind was doing it. After this episode my hobby of topiary never quite seemed to have the same allure as it did before.  

She also insisted on having a film director, makeup girl, and continuity person. When I suggested that a stuntman should take my place they all shook their heads “far too dangerous” they said as if his normal job of falling off a 40 ft tower into a saucepan of burning petrol wasn’t.

After twenty “takes” with no performance my wife gave up. We had got into a classic “Catch 22” situation where I could not perform because of the closeness of the clapperboard. My dearest getting angrier at each take was shutting the shears closer to my genitals, which caused more anxiety and droopiness. I am sure on the last take I actually lost some pubic hairs the shears were that close.

The camera sold no problems, man sent cheque, cheque cleared, and goods dispatched every one happy.

   Copyright © David B Forrester 2008