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FOGGYDAVES CANTENNA 
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NAMES I CALL MY WIFE & SHAKESPEAREAN INSULTS

COLLECTIVE NOUNS FOR ANIMAL SPECIES

SOME OTHER EBAY SALES WITH STORIES

THE REAL MEANING OF HAYNES MANUAL INSTRUCTIONS

SALAD FINGERS

TOMTOM SATNAV SAG BLUES

 

KITE MAKING PAGES

REVOLUTION KITE MAKING

 

CONTRIBUTIONS FROM READERS

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

 

 

 

STORY 26 SELLING MOTORBIKE PANNIERS ON EBAY

Fancy dress parties, Monty Python, Murphies Law, and my wife The Methane Megaphone sings Old Man Riber

 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

We were invited to a fancy dress party by my next door neighbour Doctor Stienenfranck. The invite was rather unexpected as for some reason our neighbours and most of the people in the street very rarely speak to us, and when they do it is normally to complain, and with my wife there is a lot to complain about. For instance on most Sundays at around mid day our cul de sac is obscured by a dense black cloud of smoke as once again the Sunday roast is burnt to a frazzle. On Mondays which is always a wash day what little bit of sun there is, is blocked out as her bloomers and bell tent size dresses billow in the breeze. It is a wonder the whole garden does not go sailing down the brook as we have more canvas out than the Cutty Sark on a record voyage. Couple all this with the regular mobs that turn up with burning fire brands and pitch forks encouraging us to leave and it is no wonder we have become so insular. You may think our family a bit strange but  Dr Stienenfranck is also a bit of a weird one, what with the cluster of lightening rods on the roof and his supposed son whom no one has seen but who clomps about at night in what sounds like lead boots calling for his mother, poor lad.

For the party I thought my wife The Golden Wart Warrior would wear her white dress and go as a marquee tent, or a coloured dress and go as a bouncy castle. But for some unknown reason she decided to go as Clint Eastwood in his role in The Good the Bad and the Ugly. She could have gone as that greasy, sweaty, unshaven, unwashed, peg legged; lank haired actor Robert Newton in his portrayal of Long John Silver in Treasure Island, but then that would have been cheating as she always looks like that.

A few days before the party to get into character she decided to get dressed up in the costume. This consisted of an old tufted fireside rug from the coal house with a hole cut into it, this was placed over her head as a poncho, she then retrieved an Australian bush hat complete with dangling corks from my wardrobe, and as a final touch a pair of throw over motorcycle panniers bags as a saddle bag. The only item she did not need to put on was the false six days growth of beard to give the unshaven look, in my dearest case the stubble was genuine. To complete the picture she lit one of her Tibetan Yak dung cigarettes, and closing her eyes to slits, head wreathed in smoke she stood in front of the mirror. My wife has seen far too many action films for her own good and has a tendency to mix the attributes and catchphrases for each one. And so her standing in front of the mirror dressed as Clint Eastwood, biceps and other ceps bulging like Arnie saying “Who loves ya baby pasta la bisto you dirty rat make my day, cuff him Danno, I vill be back punk” came as no surprise. What did come as a surprise was when she threw back the flap of the poncho and drew a long barrelled paint ball gun out of her belt, fully loaded with red paint balls. As often happens when my dearest gets carried away with an idea I had terrible forebodings of death, destruction and lots of things red coloured.

She must have borrowed the gun from Bernard the postman who has a ‘thing’ for engine oil. Along with like minded villagers they rent a local disused quarry and naked as the day they were born run around shooting at each other with the paint ball guns. The difference being is that the paint balls are substituted for oil filled balls and instead of hiding to avoid being shot they just stand there trying to be hit by as much oil as possible. Mmmmmmmmm  painful but curiously exciting.

As an example of how jumbled up her thinking is she insisted I go as Tonto, the Lone Rangers side kick and the lad as Little John. I do despair at times. 

 She then stalked around the house and garden pretending that around every corner was an ambush and that every object in the house from the hat stand to her brass spittoon were fictional characters waiting to do her harm. Had she been as a Ninja, an ephemeral fleeting shadow darting silently from one place to another it would have been no problem. Alas my dearest the High Velocity Megaphone does not do ‘ephemeral’ or ‘silent’, she does though do ‘elephants’ and ‘a charging herd of.’ Also with my dearest there is a very thin line between pretend and actual. As I busied away at my latest project in the cellar workshop I could hear overhead the crashing and banging as she went ‘silently’ from room to room and the occasional phut phut phut of the gun as it accidentally fired. Trying to do a fast draw from the hip with hands like bunches of bananas without the occasional accident is difficult in the extreme. It was the spittoon which took most of the hits as half filled with the overspill from last nights Yak dung tobacco chewing (A habit I find most disgusting, as are most of the things she does.) it resounded with a loud KERPLANG as the balls hit the outside or a sickening body entering SCHPLUCK if they hit the black congealing spittle inside. I waited until an hour of relative silence had passed and ventured upstairs to find that where the hall and lounge had been white anaglypta the walls were now covered in red spots, it was as though the house had a bad attack of measles. My wife though insisted this was the latest thing in interior design and was an expression of her deep latent desires which I as her husband was not fulfilling. O how I hate these room makeover television programmes. She was of course alluding to sex which we last had mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm let me think, how old is the boy mmmmmm  plus nine months   mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,   a long time ago then.

The night of the party arrived, lights were strung out in Dr Stienenfrancks garden and we could hear the crackly crooning voice of Al Jolson as the record spun on his old wind up gramophone, No doubt the Ink Spots and various other artistes of the 20s and 30s were waiting in the pile of dusty old records. A lot of people came purely out of curiosity to see his son, whom we had heard a lot but not glimpsed. We arrived at the door to be met by The Dr dressed normally as a mad scientist and his son swathed head to toe in bandages the only bits we could see where his neck which had a very realistic bolt in and a line of stitching all the way around, and his wrists which also had a very neat blanket stitch. You would really think his head and hands had been sewn on. I presume he was supposed to be a mummy as this was all he said questioningly to those he met. Strange lad that one!

My wife as ever one for a big entrance waited for the Dr to half close the door and kicked it open with her wooden leg shouting ICE CUBES  to those within (I think she meant FREEZE) and then dived to the floor going into a roll finally ending up wedged against the stair post and telephone table unable to move, miraculously the bottle of her special home brew clenched in her teeth stayed unbroken, this was fortuitous as had any spilt it would have eaten its way through the floor to the cellar and possibly beyond. After a bit of crow barring with a piece of 6x4 timber I helped her to her feet and she stalked into the lounge like a demented peg legged John Wayne saying “I have come for my boy so get down off your drink and horse your milk you dirty rat finks”.

I left her discussing cross stitching with the Dr, at least she had not started telling "The Joke". **

I wandered through the house meeting all manner of persons from Joan of Arc to Napoleon Bonaparte. The prize for most bizarre costume must go to Bernard the postie who as I mentioned above has a fetish for engine oil. He was clad in a 50 gallon oil drum with holes cut in for head, legs, and arms. This would have been ok had it not been for the disquieting noise of fluids sloshing about inside the drum. No one asked him how he went to the loo and it was probably best not to know.

It seems the craze at the moment that no celebration should be allowed to go by without the obligatory pyrotechnic display with lots of bright lights and big bangs. The Dr being a bit of an electrical person decided to create his display using electrical energy and so we were ushered into the garden to stand in front of the energy producing apparatus. This consisted of huge steel globes, conductor rods, lots of very thick wiring and a  huge complicated control panel with the obligatory red "Do not press" button.

We waited in the dark of his garden in silence. He threw a switch and we could hear and feel the energy building up in the machinery, suddenly an electric arc leapt from one rod to the other travelling up and down in great beams. And then a great bolt of lightening arced from one globe to the other. This was indeed a great show and we all applauded. This seemed to spur the DR to greater heights as his son jumped up and down with excitement shouting mummy, mummy, louder and louder. The energy built up as control wheels were feverishly spun and levers were pulled further than ever before, the whole apparatus was vibrating, we waited nervously for the lightening which took a long time coming, you could actually feel the pressure of the energy building up. When it did come it came with a huge crackling sound which tore the air apart with  a bolt of pure electrical energy, but instead of lancing across to the other ball it arced down to the metal drum that Bernard wore.

The flow of electricity is like any other flowing thing, if you have a river meandering down a valley it is very sedate, if you now try to get that river to flow through a canyon at the same rate of flow it is squeezed and pressurised as the same amount of water tries to go through a smaller opening. This is how an electric light bulb works, the electricity is sent through a smaller wire than can take the current, this causes the wire to heat up as the pressure of electricity increases this heats to white heat and so gives light. And so it was with the pressure of electricity going through Bernards oil drum, but instead of the pressure heating it the drum just split and disintegrated with a great tearing rending sound. The 40 gallons of engine oil that was in the drum cascaded out over the machinery and was immediately set alight by the electric arc.

I have never been unlucky enough to suffer a Napalm attack but this must surely come close as great sheets of flame erupted in front of us. Luckily Bernard was blown clear, but to our astonishment walking into the middle of the burning edifice was the Doctors son crying MUMMY MUMMY, over and over again his bandages smouldering in the intense heat. What was the crazy lad up to? Suddenly a great sheet of lightening engulfed him and by the time our eyes had re-adjusted he had gone, totally disappeared, surely he could not have burnt up so quickly. We all turned as one to the Dr who with a tears in his eyes and a slight shrug of his shoulders said mysteriously “I will have to make another one” Most people thought he meant the machine and it was heartless to feel nothing for his son, but I wasn’t so sure. Bernard is in hospital with burns and a strange case of complete body dermatitis, the treatment is a twice daily full application of baby oil and creams. So Bernards wildest fantasy and all on the National Health.

Can’t be bad.

 

**     From story 21 on my web site ‘Selling a Wheel Clamp on Ebay’.

 THE JOKE

 My wife does not have a sense of humour, but one joke, THE JOKE is the only one that makes her chuckle   .......... slightly.............well a sort of grunt...............ok just a slight rise of the upper lip............ok ok just a twitch of her moustache.

Two years ago I told her this joke, its from the Goon Show and is very simple..................

 

Captain "Stand by to repel boarders"

Sailor "How do you repel boarders"

Captain "Stop changing the bed linen"

 

Amusing you might say when heard once but my wife repeats it over and over again like some mantra. And also insists on telling it at all the functions we attend. When it does not illicit the required guffaw my wife nudges them in the ribs saying "get it, bed linen, stop changing, priceless".  With my wife not knowing her own strength this nudge normally cracks a few ribs. Word soon got around so to avoid injury everybody laughs when she tells it, some even go into hysterics, this makes the wife think that the joke is wonderful and must be recited at every opportunity.

 

 FD Oh what tangled webs we weave, in our efforts to deceive........ If they had accepted their punishment like men this would have been over many years ago.

 

At the start of my auctions I ask readers to send in ideas for alternative uses for the item I am auctioning. I think though with these panniers we may have hit a brick wall, to me a bag is a bag

 

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 08 OCT 2008 DAY 2 OF SALE

 

Not much happening on the suggestions front so I have an update on the Hadron Collider from my last auction Selling a pair of old boots (see website)

 

We are told that many billions of years ago there was a void from which we and all matter were created This time of creation was called the Big Bang when one atom travelling at immense speeds collided with another atom, a chain reaction was formed and matter was created. The universe has been expanding ever since. The Hadron Collider is trying to re create this moment in time by speeding atoms up to the nearly the speed of light and allowing them to collide with other atoms. It is not known what the outcome will be. As my wife would say it is best left alone as we cannot comprehend the forces we are dealing with for we are playing with time itself. One of the things they are looking for is the smallest particle known.

I thought the smallest thing in the universe was my wife’s sex drive (Which given her numerous skin complains and other bodily ailments is not a bad thing) but it happens to be a Higgs Boson and like my wifes sex drive when they find it they will probably wish they had left well alone. My wife says one of the consequences of these experiments is that each time they do a test we jump a few universes to escape the black hole being created in the last one by the Hadron Collider.

 

 

Last week my wife and a few cronies got a last minute deal and went on a short stay holiday to France which was unusual as she hates flying (apart from on her broom) the next thing I hear is that the Experiments on The Large Hadron Collider have been stopped for essential maintenance. I have a bad feeling about this one. When things go wrong my dearest is never far away.

I wonder who put a spanner in the works?

How can you spend billions of pounds on a machine and after only 2-3 days stop it for maintenance. If it is true and the wife was not involved I wonder which nation’s part went belly up and why?

 If it was a British part you could put it down to some disenfranchised ex Rover car worker who maybe thought it was a Friday afternoon.

 

Or it could have been done deliberately

It could have been Ursulla Undress fearful she would turn into my wife as the universes collapsed …….  FD I wouldn’t worry too much Ursulla there aren’t that many universes although I have noticed a few less yellow spots on my wifes nose in the past few days. Are you getting any?

 

As I said in my previous auction (Selling a pair of old boots). With each experiment we shift a few universes in one direction or another. There may be someone from a universe near to ours that does not want us to discover it. I don’t know why maybe its our Bistro’s or chip shops, who knows.

There does though seem to be a deafening silence coming from  the Hadron Collider site. Maybe the excuse of “essential maintenance” was a ruse and as we speak all the personnel are on a beach on a far planet in a parallel universe sipping pink gin and eating caviar.

 

It would be nice to have your thoughts on who you think it may be and why.

Just drop me a line. The more absurd the idea the better.  Go to my web site at any time, even after the story is posted. I can always add little bits no problem………Go on get involved let your mind wander.

 

Mind you it may be no ones fault but just be a natural occurrence and can all be put down to Murphy’s Law.

 

Murphy’s Law

 1.  The prime axiom of Murphy’s Law: In any field of scientific endeavor, anything that can go     wrong will.

 2.  If the possibility exists of several things going wrong, the one that will go wrong is the one that will do the most damage.

 3.  Everything will go wrong at one time.

      3.1 That time is always when you least expect it.

 4.  If nothing can go wrong, something will.

 5.  Nothing is as easy as it looks.

 6.  Everything takes longer than you think.

 7.  Left to themselves, things always go from bad to worse.

 8.  Nature always sides with the hidden flaw.

 9.  Given the most inappropriate time for something to go wrong, that's when it will occur.

 

10.  Mother Nature is a bitch.

       10.1 The universe is not indifferent to intelligence; it is actively hostile to it.

 

11.  If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.

 

12.  If in any problem you find yourself doing an immense amount of work, the answer can be obtained by simple inspection.

 

13.  Never make anything simple and efficient when a way can be found to make it complex and wonderful.

 

 14.  If it doesn't fit, use a bigger hammer.

 

 15.  In an instrument or device characterized by a number of plus-or-minus errors, the total error will be the sum of all the errors adding in the same direction.

 

 16.  In any given calculation, the fault will never be placed if more than one person is involved.

        16.1 In any given discovery, the credit will never be properly placed if more than one person is involved.

 

 17.  All warranty and guarantee clauses become invalid upon payment of the final invoice.

 

 18. If there are two or more ways to do something, and one of those ways can result in a catastrophe, then someone will do it.

 

If you know of any more drop me a line and I will add them to the list either here or on my website.

 

Maybe you have a few to do with motorbikes?

 

Well that seems to explain most of the events in my life. What I thought was Karma and fate can all be put down to a gentleman named Murphy. We spend millions on research into the questions of “WHY”

Why do things happen?

Why are we as we are?

Why is life as it is?

When most of the “WHY” questions have been answered by this man Murphy.

 

 

 IMPORTANT NOTE.....A MATE CAME ROUND AND QUESTIONED WHETHER THE PANNIERS WERE REAL LEATHER. I THOUGHT THEY WERE BUT THE DOUBT HAS BEEN SOWN (I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE DO THIS) SO THE DESCRIPTION HAS BEEN ALTERED TO READ "MAYBE ITS LEATHER". SO BID AS IF THEY WERE NOT LEATHER AND IF THEY ARE IT WILL BE A BONUS.

I could let the wife test them as she used to chew Gerbil hides to soften the skin. This is why she has the pointy teeth. The last thing you would want though is to buy a set of panniers with little bits chewed off the corners and teeth marks all over, also once she starts to eat something its hard to stop her. We could end up with no panniers at all. So its best left as it is.  

 

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9 OCT DAY 3 OF SALE

 

Well surprise surprise we have some suggestions already

 

 

Des of Leicester, ….. I am fed up with being charged for extras when going on budget flights so ...... When going on holiday fill them to the brim with clothes and carry them on your head into the plane. There are only rules and charges about cases and hand luggage, no mention is made of head luggage………Yes touch that, and up yours BMI BaBaBaBy……FD Des have you got a grudge against BMI

 

 

Des of Leicester, …….Heres another…. When coming back through customs wear them over your head as a fashion accessory they would look no sillier than those Nordic type hats with tassles on them. Unbeknown to the customs people will be the fact that they are full to the brim with 6 gallons of wine 6000 cigarettes and 50 kg of rolling tobacco. They will just see a silly hat…. Yeeeessss…Again ..... Up yours again BMI Baaaaaaby…..FD With the weight they would also see a  very bent crooked person underneath…………… We really do not like BMI do we Des.

 

 

Matt of Gloucester…… If you had twin babies you could put one in each bag, throw them over your shoulder and hey presto a double child carrier. The one that needs its nappy changing have at the back. If they both need changing put the panniers on the first passing donkey or motorbike courier to take home…….FD you could put them in the bags without any nappies and when the waste starts sloshing over the top you just tip it out and wash the bags out at the nearest self service power car wash…give them a bath at the same time……Very natural and eco friendly

 

Skippy of Coalville Des’s mate…… Will it fit my Fat Boy Low Rider? ……….FD It all depends how wide your Fat Boy is. Are we talking here about an overweight Midget or a motorbike? So your Des's mate then??

 

Fanny Craddock of Bath…….Put one on each hand as a giant oven glove…….FD Hello Fanny long time no see. How’s Johnny.

 

Des of Leicester, Skippies mate……. Hey Skippy I thought I was your best mate. Whos this overweight midget you are talking about? I buy you coffees and treats and even let you touch it now and again and this is how you repay me. So when I say “lets go out” and you say “No I am going to ride my Fat Boy” this is what you mean.

 

Skippy of Coalville  ……. No its my HD Low rider you silly Pom.

 

Des of Leicester, …….. So he’s High Definition does that mean he’s not fuzzy at the edges or he just talks clever. And don’t call me a Pom you..you..you… Wallaby.

 

 Skippy of Coalville ….. No HD stands for Harley Davidson, geeez you British!!

 

 Des of Leicester,  ………… Oh …………….. that’s ok then …………. I thought you were being unfaithful  …………  pause   ……………………………  So what’s the name of this fat midget then?

 

Skippy of Coalville ……….. Strewth get me a tube quick!!!!!

 

 

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 10 OCT DAY 4 OF SALE 

 

WOW This is exciting, we already have a bidder. Obviously a discerning person who knows the true value of the panniers. One who wishes to stake a claim on what could be a nice little bargain. Not for this person the end of auction last seconds snipe....No this person has run his colours up the flagpole so all can see. A real eBayer.

Oh it makes me so proud to be part of all this......................... I can feel a verse coming on

From the bard

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he today that bids this eBay auction with me.
Shall be my brother, be he ne’er so vile.
This auction shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now abed,
Shall think themselves accursed they did not bid.
And hold their manhood’s cheap whiles any speaks
That bid with you on this eBay auction and won.

           -------------------------------

I put a note in about the uncertainty as to whether or not the panniers were leather and mentioned my wife chewed Gerbil skins.

I have been asked by a reader what they would be used for.

The following is on my web site.

Below is a short resume

My wife was born on an island which was conical in shape (think dunces cap) It was so conical in fact that there was not a flat surface to be found. This is why the islanders have one leg a lot shorter than the other so that they are able to stand upright. This led to many practices peculiar to the island. One of these was a competition called Stopping.

 

From story 14 on my web site

‘The only pastime on her island anything like bowls was the very dangerous sport of “Stopping”. This involved throwing a round boulder up a slope and letting it roll down. In rolling down it gathered moss, twigs, lumps of earth, Gerbils the odd sheep, and other bigger boulders. When finally it reached the thrower again it had grown in mass and weight by many times its original. The thrower then had to stop it; the heavier it was the faster it would be rolling. The winner was he or she who stopped the most weight in twenty minutes. As in fishing matches it can be the person who catches more little fish who wins over the person who catches one big one. (This is true of so many things in life). So it is with the “Stoppers”, the smaller the boulder thrown up, the lighter it was when it came down. You could throw more small ones than big ones, and stop them more easily. The danger came from the “Super Stoppers who put everything into one or two boulders. These athletes were built like brick out houses, the trouble came when their ambition to stop the “Big One” outweighed their abilities. It is a fundamental law of nature that when a heavier mass with energy hits a lighter mass at rest the lighter mass will be displaced or squashed. So it was with the “Super Stoppers”. Many were either flattened as a hedgehog on a motorway, or they were caught up in the debris on the boulder as it went over them and were carried down into the sea, and a watery grave.’

 

 This brings me to the reason for Gerbil skins. these were sewn together to make huge nets to hold the boulders used in the sport of Stopping. The tensile strength of the Gerbil skin is far greater than that of the only other animal to inhabit the island which is the mountain  sheep.

The sheep are not indigenous to the island but were imported by one of the tribal chiefs thinking to make a fast buck by selling them off to sailors for those dark lonely nights at sea.

 The Gerbil is indigenous  and was the staple source of meat and clothing before McDonalds set up a restaurant on the Northern slopes.

For a long time Gerbil skins were the only source of currency on the island and before a deal was struck or a purchase made the buyer would ask for time to think about it. He would then go away and  chew and soften enough skins to pay for the deal. It is thought this is where the expression, “To chew it over” in the sense of giving time, comes from.

 

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 11 OCT DAY 5 OF SALE

 

I had a question from an eBayer.

Do I know the capacity of the bags in Litres

Hi 
  I got a 2litre bottle and filled it with baked beans and then poured them in the bag. It took just over 7 bottles full. I am not partial to beans but my dearest The Nitrous Nightingale loves them. So its baked beans for breakfast, dinner and tea for the next few weeks. This is going to
put global warming up a few percent by her methane output. I have  inform the local radio station to put out a NO NAKED LIGHTS warning and, as the neighbourhood still seems to be intact it is working. Needless to say as I am in the closest proximity to my dear one so I suffer the most. I have often wondered if we could somehow hook her up to the gas main when cooking Sunday dinner, and then the gas boiler on the cold nights. I was going to tie her to the roof of the Landover, install the necessary pipe work and use her waste gases as a means of propulsion. It would save a few bob but the problems of “blowback” were insurmountable.
My son though came up with this little sum, which goes to show that he is learning something at school.

I think its 14.6 litres this is based on the   following calculations.

I bag = 14 inch x 6 inch x 10.5 inch = converted to cm this will be 36cm x 15cm x 27cm = 14580 cu cm
to convert from cu cm to litres you multiply by 0.001
which = 14.6 litres I THINK but looking at a 2 litre milk carton It looks as though 7 cartons per bag is about right.

If anyone can see a flaw in the working out please let me know and then I can clip the lad around the ear.

 

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Talking about paint ball guns

Do you have to

Yes my dearest,  Smoker of the Tobbacco of Doom,  insists.

But this is an auction for motorbike panniers.

Ah I know but my little walking Blimp wants people of Glenfield to take a lesson from this.

So you are now trying to be educational as well as weird.

No she is fed up with being walked over

Your wife walked over. You would need to be a skilled mountaineer to do that.  

 

 

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12 OCT 2008 DAY 6 OF SALE

 

Due to work commitments (yes I actually have a full time job) I'm not able to add an up date today.

If you want something to read go to my website which has 25 other stories including 9 previous eBay sales.

I should be able to update tomorrow.

Have a great day

Regards Foggydave.

My website address is at the top of the description on the listing.

 

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13 OCT 2008 DAY 7 OF SALE

We have had a couple of suggestions for other uses for the panniers

Maj Gen Clutterbuck Smythe VD and Scar…..When in the desert put them over your head so that if it rains they will collect the rain water and possibly save your life. When it doesn’t rain they will stop you getting sunburnt. Had Monty had these in the Battle of El Alemien,  then the attrition rate due to sunstroke and dehydration would have been far less. The only thing Tommy had was the good old British knotted handkerchief and the Billy can, but we showed Rommel a thing or two I can tell you. Wasn’t there myself due to a bad attack of Gout but I was with the boys in spirit.

FD So where did you get the gong (VD and Scar) I have heard of the DC and Star but not that one. What theatre of operations were you in Major.

 

 

Fred of Leicester…….Use it as a nose bag for Siamese twin horses joined at the shoulder. Or at the other end to collect manure ……. FD.. I am impressed Fred. That suggestion reminds of when we were lads my mum would send us out with a dust pan and bucket to collect the droppings from the milk mans horse. We used to make briquettes out of it for fuel. The trouble was all the other kids in the street would be after the same thing. Now when it started we just used to follow the milk cart at a respectable distance dust pan and bucket in hand, but as time went on we got closer and closer, until the competition was so fierce we were all scurrying along between the horse and the cart, the milkmans whip whistling about our ears.  Imagine if you will a gang of urchins holding a dozen tin buckets under a horse’s posterior as it slowly walked down the street. The noise alone of a dozen tin buckets being bashed together was enough to spook the horse. Then the eventual pitch battle when the horse decided to go to the loo. Manys the time a lad has been crushed under the hooves of the horse or the wheels of the cart. Even when you got your prize you had to get it home and run the gauntlet of other mothers hitting you with yard brushes and coal shovels. And  the race down the alley into the sanctity of your back yard. Then with pride you would show your mum the winnings. It was lard for sure that night and if it was a bucket full you may get a bit of the brown jelly normally reserved for Dad or the Vicar. It was a hard life. Kids today don’t know the half of it.

 

 

That reminds me of a Monty Python sketch 'The four Yorkshire men'

 

 

Four Yorkshire men just finishing their meal had the following discussion

They are noted as 1st 2nd 3rd 4th man

 

1st      Aye, very passable, that, very passable bit of risotto.

 

2nd       Nothing like a good glass of Château de Chasselas, eh, Josiah?

3rd      You're right there, Obadiah.

 

4th     Who'd have thought thirty year ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Château de Chasselas, eh?

 

1st      In them days we was glad to have the price of a cup o' tea.

 

2nd     A cup o' cold tea.

 

4th      Without milk or sugar.

 

3rd      Or tea.

 

1st       In a cracked cup, an' all.

 

4th      Oh, we never had a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper.

 

2nd     The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.

 

3rd        But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.

 

1st     Because we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you   happiness, son".

 

4th     Aye, 'e was right.

 

1st      Aye, 'e was.

 

4th        I was happier then and I had nothin'. We used to live in this tiny old house with great big holes in the roof.

 

2nd     House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, 'alf the floor was missing, and we were all 'uddled together in one corner for fear of falling through.

 

3rd      Eh, you were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in t' corridor!

 

1st     Oh, we used to dream of livin' in a corridor! Would ha' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woke up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House? Huh.

 

4th     Well, when I say 'house' it was only a hole in the ground covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us.

 

2nd   We were evicted from our 'ole in the ground; we 'ad to go and live in a lake.

 

3rd     You were lucky to have a lake! There were a hundred and fifty of us living in t' shoebox in t' middle o' road.

 

1st     Cardboard box?

 

3rd     Aye.

 

1st     You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down t' mill, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us to sleep wi' his belt.

 

2nd      Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake,  eat a handful of 'ot gravel, work twenty hour day at mill for tuppence a month,come home, and Dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!

 

3rd    Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to 'ave to get up out of shoebox at twelve o'clock at night and lick road clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at mill for sixpence every four years, and when we got home our Dad would slice us in two wit' bread knife.

 

4th    Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.

 

1st      And you try and tell the young people of today that ..... they won't believe you.

 

All     They won't!

 

 -----------------------------------------------------------------

 

14 OCT DAY 8 OF SALE

Gosh this is really  exciting, 3 days to go and already 3 bids. I think there may be a bit of auction fever brewing here.

I feel another verse coming on this time from Mr Robert Browning

 

Oh to be in England

Now that eBays there

And whoever wakes in England

Sees, some morning, unaware,

That the highest bids have won the day

Its Oh so little you have to pay

You are the one that come what may

Bid on eBay and won

 

 

You may think you do not need these panniers. That is today, what about the future? Even though you do not own a bike now does not mean that one day you may be lucky enough to. When that day comes and the gleaming machine stands outside your house, and you think. “Today I will go to Skegness or some other place of outstanding beauty”. And then the question. “What can I put my stuff in, I need some panniers”.  Well fear not Cinderella you will go to the ball because you had the foresight to buy some. Think of the disillusionment and misery if you did not have any panniers. Then it will be.”Cinderella you must stay in the kitchen, not for you the bright lights and excitement of a day at the east coasts premier resort . No you will sit and languish on your own because you lacked foresight and would not invest even a small sum on a set of panniers”.

 

 Bid now, you know it makes sense.

 

If Murphy had a law on this it would probably read something like.

 

                          “You will always need the article that was on sale at a ridiculously low price.  You know the one you did not buy because you thought you would never ever need it.”

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

15 OCT 2008 DAY 9 OF SALE

 

The bidding war is hotting up and my Mistress of the dark wobbly thing is getting excited, which given her open pore problem is not very pleasant. She is planning an end of auction party where like New years eve when you wait for midnight. In this case we wait by the computer until the auction is over, even having a countdown and then its party poppers and Champagne, well not Champagne more Dandelion and Burdock, and not so much party poppers as squeezing bubble wrap ( My Mustachioed Maradona cannot be doing with the mess).

There may be a slight delay in posting the parcel as our Post Office went up in flames a few days ago. My dearest insists its something to do with the Hadron Collider, the police think its burglars

 

------------------------------

As a party piece my wife likes to give a rendition of Paul Robeson singing Old Man River. She has a fine Basso Profundo voice a bit on the gravely side Much like Tom Waites, but never the less it always brings a tear to the eye. She is sitting on the back door step singing it now. If you closed your eyes you would think it was really Paul sitting there and you were on a wharf by the Mississippi her Tibetan Yak dung pipe tobacco smelling just like the smoke stack of a steam boat.

 

Ol man riber dat ol man riber.

Cuff him danno.

E mus know sumpin but don say nuffin

You dirty rat.

E  jus keeps rolin he jus keeps rolin along.

Do you feel lucky, punk.

 

E don plant taters

Ok blue eyes………..

 

 

 

Why she has to keep interspersing it with her film hero sayings is beyond me….Oh oh…….

You had better stop now love there’s a mob outside with burning brands and pitchforks. Also the RSPCA have just rung and said can you keep the noise down as its scaring all the cats and dogs.

 

                                      -----------------------------------------

Well that’s another one over with.

What the song?

No the auction.

It went on a bit don’t you think?

Yes, lots of topics covered. I would rather it had been like the boots auction or the ratchet straps where I could have kept on the same theme.

So what happened?

You can only write so much about motorbike panniers.

I see, does her indoors ever read what you write ?

She thinks she does

???????

I keep two versions going, one is what the general public read and the other, the one she reads paints a lovely picture of an idyllic home life where it is all sweetness and light and she is a raving voluptuous beauty.

So it’s a bit like the Mafia keeping two books for the tax man?

Yes and like the Mafia if she got hold of the wrong book it would be cement boots and a dip in the local brook for me.

You’ve got a bit of a death wish then?

It would seem so.

Goodnight.

See you soon, Hadron Collider willing

FD

 

 ------------------------------

 

When an auction has been bid on I think eBay close the auction and prohibit any updates 24 hours before the close of the auction. So this may be the last day I can speak to you. To some this comes as a relief and to others ……….it also comes as a relief.

 

I normally do an auction with a story every 2-3 weeks but due to work commitments the next listing will be in 4-5 weeks.

 

If you want me to mail you to let you know when the listing is on just send me your email address either through eBay on “Ask seller a question” or direct to dave@foggydave.co.uk

and I will let you know when I put a new story on my web site or start another auction.

 

If you are really desperate for something to read and some would say you would have to be, just go to my website where there are a lot more auction listings and other stories.

Thankyou for reading my story and I hope it made you smile.

 

Foggydave

                       -----------------------------------------------------------

The panniers sold to a nice gentleman from the deep south.....well Crawley to be excact

Dear mozomusic,

Hi Paul
Just posted the parcel off. The PO say 4 days delivery but in my experience this is normally 2-3.
Our village Post Office burnt down last week (The wife says it was the Hadron Collider, the police say it was burglars, I think it was the wife). I had to take it to the PO in the next village on my motorbike. I did have a bit of a "Catch 22" moment when I needed something to carry the parcel in but the thing I needed to carry them in was in the parcel......Its an age thing....a few befuddled minutes later I had it bungee strapped to the wife's head. Job done.
I assume you received my message this morning about the 99% likelihood that they are just leather look-alike and are some other material although they are very strong and look very nice.
If for any reason you are not satisfied with the goods please let me know as any problem can be sorted.
I am running out of characters so, all the best and enjoy your motor biking.
Regards Dave.
Well only 34 characters left its a pity to w

Foggydave

    -----------------------------------------------------------

The panniers sold to a nice gentleman from the deep south.....well Crawley to be excact

Dear mozomusic,

Hi Paul
Just posted the parcel off. The PO say 4 days delivery but in my experience this is normally 2-3.
Our village Post Office burnt down last week (The wife says it was the Hadron Collider, the police say it was burglars, I think it was the wife). I had to take it to the PO in the next village on my motorbike. I did have a bit of a "Catch 22" moment when I needed something to carry the parcel in but the thing I needed to carry them in was in the parcel......Its an age thing....a few befuddled minutes later I had it bungee strapped to the wife's head. Job done.
I assume you received my message this morning about the 99% likelihood that they are just leather look-alike and are some other material although they are very strong and look very nice.
If for any reason you are not satisfied with the goods please let me know as any problem can be sorted.
I am running out of characters so, all the best and enjoy your motor biking.
Regards Dave.
Well only 34 characters left its a pity to w

Foggydave

 

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Copyright © David B Forrester 2008