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FOGGYDAVES CANTENNA 
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THE EVIL MINIONS GUIDE

OTHER EVIL/ HERO  GUIDES
A FEW VERSES 

NAMES I CALL MY WIFE & SHAKESPEAREAN INSULTS

COLLECTIVE NOUNS FOR ANIMAL SPECIES

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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 45 SELLING THE FOGGYDAVE PATENTED PERSON IN DISTRESS CARRIER BAG ON EBAY    1 April 2013

This innovative invention will revolutionise the girl meets boy and boy meets girl situation bringing the dropped Victorian handkerchief into the 21st century.

 

PDF file of listing

The carrier bag as it would be

 seen by the general public

 

 

  

The operation of the hidden

 trapdoor beneath the bag

The hand holding the release

mechanism which when let go

 allows the trapdoor at the base

of the bag  to open

Below is a transcript from the Ebay auction

FOR SALE

THE FOGGYDAVE PATENTED PERSON IN DISTRESS CARRIER BAG

Full instructions on the operation of this unique and marvelouse invention will be provided in a plain brown envelope.

Please see the pictures for an explanation of the operation of this sought after apparatus

 

This innovative invention will revolutionise the girl meets boy and boy meets girl situation bringing the dropped Victorian handkerchief into the 21st century.

 

Please note this is a genuine Ebay auction and all Ebay rules apply

 

Thank you for looking and if you are bidding good luck  

 

 

YOU COULD BE THE FIRST TO OWN WHAT I AND OTHERS THINK WILL IN YEARS TO COME BE LOOKED UPON AS THE ICONIC INVENTION OF THE 21ST CENTURY.

Please read below a brief explanation of how important owning this life changing carrier bag can be to you. YOU WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED.

 

Dear reader this is no ordinary carrier bag, Oh no this is the Foggydave Patented Person in Distress Carrier Bag. What we have here ladies and gentlemen is the twenty first century version of the Victorian ladies handkerchief.

Let me take you back to a more genteel  era  where to attract the attention of a dashing young man the lady would delicately drop her handkerchief on the ground in the hopes that the young beau would pick it up and hand it back. Imagine the scene.

Let us  journey  back a hundred years or more to a more genteel age

A young lady ready to alight her carriage, sees a young man and to gain his attention inadvertently drops her lace handkerchief. The beau upon seeing this dashes forward narrowly avoiding being crushed by a passing coach and fours and bending down, careful to show off his young thighs straining inside his tight riding britches he picks up the hanky and with a flourish and a bow hands it to the young lady, who blushing demurely thanks the young man and offers him her hand to help her alight. Thus the two people avoiding an introduction by a third party are able to meet. This may lead to further meetings culminating perhaps in them holding hands or even a stolen kiss on a moonlit night during the hunt ball.

Now let us come forward in time to the present day where life is faster, meaner women and men are emancipated from the Victorian values but there still needs to be an excuse to talk to the opposite sex.

A young lady ready to get out of her smart car espies a young man. How does she attract his attention? She only has a packet of tissues which if she dropped would at best blow away; she may be fined for littering, and anyway a tissue is supposed to be disposable that is its raison d’etre. He may think her a litter lout, a slag and a low life.  And the only reason one throws a tissue away is when it has been  filled with mucous.

This is where the ‘Foggydave Patented Person in Distress Carrier Bag’ comes in useful. Unbeknown to the onlooker this bag is fatally flawed. The bottom of the bag has been cunningly designed to open when a draw string is released so spilling the contents of the bag over the pavement.

So lets imagine today’s dropped handkerchief scenario only in this era it’s a carrier bag that is the bait

 The young lady gets out of her car and walking in front of the young man releases the draw string and the contents fall through the bottom of the bag. The man on seeing this mishap rushes forward to offer assistance to this beautiful young lady in her hour of need.  Thus the two people meet. This may lead to further meetings culminating in them meeting at the local rave and having a snog ……. Or two.

.I must at this point warn the user to be very careful what is put in the bag. What falls out of the bag will tell  the world about YOU. It is no use carrying just a few tins of beans a copy of Hello magazine and a packet of Park Drive cigarettes. He could think you a slag or a low life. Neither should it be a bag of washing with dirty knickers and the favourite jumper you were sick on last Friday night after a few too many Babychams  slammers.  NO this should be a special bag containing the YOU things. It contains items that make a statement.  This could range from books on quantum physics to a pair of sexy knickers. You tailor the bait to suit the type of fish you want to catch. One of my customers just carried bondage equipment in the hope of attracting a like minded gentleman. Another carried 20 tins of cat meat to get a pet lover.  For instance In the supermarket you could use this bag and load it with man attracting food, like burgers, cans of beer and chocolate, an irresistible combination. You would have to buy these each time you shopped but I am sure it would be a wise investment.

 

But Hey why do we talk here only of women?  The ‘Foggydave Patented Person in Distress Carrier Bag’ can also be used by the male of the species.

MEN How many times have you seen a beautiful lady and yearned to speak to her but lacking confidence have retired back into your shell of no confidence and lack of conversation. Now you have the answer. THE BAG.

Again please be aware what you put in the bag is very very important. Many men have no idea what a women is looking for in her perfect male. Throw away that fake certificate from the twelve inch penis club or the leather thong and condoms.  Women are more attracted by a healthy and thoughtful person with a sense of humour so its anything to do with healthy eating ie cook books (Ladies love  someone who can cook) For humour possibly Palin over Clarkson as most women hate Clarkson. Richard Hammond would be ok though. Oh and some womens lib books to show you are on their side. Soap! Don’t forget the soap, women love their men to be clean.

I can only supply you with the tools, it is up to you as to how you use them.

 I would ask at this time for the readers to submit ideas on what they would put in the bag that they feel sums up their personality.

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

Come now ladies and gentlemen do not miss this opportunity of a lifetime. Forget all the dating agencies all the dating web sites that offer so much but yet give so little.

In times past men needed an introduction to speak to a lady. It was all very formal and required little in the ‘self confidence’ department as someone else spoke to the lady first and you were introduced.

May I present Mr Elizar Potpiddle please meet Miss Ermintrude Spondle    That was all there was to it. This is not the case today. A man has to do his own introducing which takes a great amount of self confidence as rebuttals are often swift and cruel. Don’t you see? With my ‘Foggydave patented person in distress carrier bag’ you can bypass all this as hopefully your chosen one  comes to you in your hour of need.

 

So it is with the female of the species. It’s no use hoping that the handsome man you walk past every day to work will come up and whisk you off to a romantic glade. No he is too shy, lacks self confidence and to put it bluntly is too scared to come up to you and ask if you want any sort of whisking. This is where the ‘Foggydave patented person in distress carrier bag’ (Thank goodness for copy and paste) comes into its own. You give the gentleman no choice but to help you in your hour of need as tins go rolling around the supermarket floor/pavement/workplace.

 

This invention is so good. I wonder why no one has thought of it before. I think it takes a special kind of mind and a sideways way of thinking to come up with these sorts of ideas.

 In the past some clever person thought about the concept of paper carrier bags, they drew it out, glued prototypes together, gave it folds to increase strength and handles that did not break. (Just cut off the blood supply to your fingers). Little did they think that a few decades later someone would reinvent the carrier bag but this time building in strategic weaknesses that would cause the bag to fail? Life takes some funny twists and turns doesn’t it?

 

I did approach Dragons den but the reception was to say the least very cool I blame myself really for my presentation skills left a bit to be desired.   I say my presentation skills but in reality it was the inclusion of my dearest wife into the equation which caused all of the problems. You would have thought by now that I would have learnt my lesson and made allowances for the inevitable chaos my little beloved exocet can bring to any event she has the misfortune to be part of. Tom Waits sums it up in the line of a song  ‘A wrecking ball without the chain’.

 I thought I would create a Dickensian street scene with carriages ladies, gentlemen and the obligatory street urchins and flower sellers. This was to recreate the scene I mentioned above where the young lady drops her hankerchief. It was not the actors that caused the problems. Oh no, that was the 4 horses for the coach. If you watch The Dragons Den you may have noticed that the interviews take place on the upper floors of an old warehouse. There is a service freight lift provided for getting your inventions upstairs. It’s a rickety old thing that moans and groans as its doing its work. (Much like the wife then). Getting the actors and other inanimate objects up to the floor was no problem, apart from the flower seller who happened to be my wife**. Her audition consisted of her hitting me around the head with a rolling pin until I said yes. She had spent the last two days ‘getting into’ her role, so much so that she insisted the new fangled lift thingy contraption in her words , Wus tha work o tha divil, sach fings shud not be alard, penny a dozen guvner. Garn gius a penny. Up the apples and pears me ripe banana.

All went well until we decided to put the horses who were very nervous  in the lift. The demented flower seller true to her role threw her more than ample body across the backs of the horses and started screaming that we were ‘sendin these ere  orses to the divils knacker yard on this evil contraption and no mistake guvner ‘  Her hysterical outburst spooked the horses who panicking stamped about in the lift. Rearing and lashing out with their iron shod hooves smashing the walls and floors until with a mighty roar the lift plummeted to the cellar taking the horses and flower seller with it. A great billow of dust erupting from the lift shaft. The horses survived unharmed as they were cushioned in their fall by the ample body of the flower seller. As far as I know the horses are still there waiting for the lift to be mended. Sadly the flower seller died at the scene her final croaking words. ‘Spare a farfing guvner fer a rose on me grave. It’s the workas fer me kids and that’s no mistaking Im sure.  Its bin an ard life bringing up twelve kids wif no man abart the ouse  ……….. At this point we lost interest and draped the final curtain over her mangled act. Hamming it up to the end, that’s the spirit. (This was pure wishful thinking on my part. My wife did not die but I thought I would use a bit of authors  liscence to give the scene more drama It would take more than a few tons of horses to kill my armour skinned delight of a wife. But a man can dream can’t he?)

I had thought Hilary Devey would have been more sympathetic as we both have fork lift driving liscences. Peter Jones offered me 50p  which was a tad less than the £100,000.00 I had asked for. It turned out it was not for the business but to get him a cup of coffee.  (He did though give me a tenner to stop the wife harassing him) I had put on my special Hai Karate after shave in the hope of wooing  Deborah Meadon but she had a cold that day so did not take the bait. I am sure if the horse thingy had not happened I would be a millionaire right now and living at the posh end of Glenfield village. Then again life has never been easy. This has a lot to do with the wife and as you read my stories you will appreciate only too well why.  I approach life with a smile and a sideways glance as it does’nt do to stare it in the face as it can bite your nose off.

So dear reader I am forced to sell my ideas on Ebay. It may take longer but I will get there in the end.

 

I have had a suggestion from Delore’s of Soho as to what she would put in her bag to attract the opposite sex.  Please Delore’s as interesting as the list is I cannot print the items here apart from the rubber chicken with batteries supplied and the riding crop. Some of the items I can’t read to well Dil?? Is that a dill pepper? Oh and why all the straps??  The 12 volt battery with leads and crocodile clips is a no no as it would be too heavy for the bag. Delore’s  I am not sure what type of gentleman you are trying to attract with your bag  but I am sure someone would be interested in the rubber chicken he may be a rubber chicken fancier. I have heard of weirder things.

 

I had planned to make a video and link it to the sale so that you may see how effective my invention is. To this end I wanted to use a local female actor who would have been just right for the part. Despite my best efforts the wife discovered my plot and immediately vetoed the idea of using (in her words) “The village tart and local bicycle” SHE would be the damsel in distress, the heroin who battling all odds would triumph over adversity and like the  Canadian Mounty of old ‘Would get her man’ .  

And so my my ‘mistress of the squidgy thing’  spent many days getting into her role as the afore mentioned heroine.  The fact that she read Bronte, Jane Austin and Catherine Cookson helped mould the character. What turned out was a cross between Jayne Eyre, Moll Flanders and Bodecia. To be woken first thing in the morning by a voice wailing from the landing. “If you don’t get me a cup of tea I will throw myself off the cliff”,  was quite disconcerting but to be woken in the night to see a face lit below with a torch screaming “save me save me I am but a poor wretch broken upon the shores of mans greed “ was very scary.

The day of the shoot

I am a simple person and like to keep life simple. The plan was to go to the local Glenfield Co Op and take a two minute film showing the carrier bag in operation in a shop setting . Filming was to be done on my  little picture camera which takes short films.

 Oh that life was that easy. 

I walked down to the Co Op leaving my wife in the bedroom  ‘putting on her face’ as ladies say. In my wifes case ‘putting on her face’ is literal as she uses a 7inch brickies trowel and an awful  lot of Polyfiller.

I chose a suitable spot to film in the store and loaded the carrier bag up with a few tins of soup and some vegetables. Then waited …………… for a long time ………….. The store detective was eyeing me as a potential thief when in came the wife. Here words fail me.   As the Co Op doors*** slid hesitatingly open my Duck Tape Diva walked in complete with the Glenfield Shakespearian Actors Group, for, as she put it, support and encouragement. As most of their speech consisted of shouted Shakespearian insults the conversations went thus.

 

A pox upon thee and thy family, you gorbellied urchin-snouted pigeon egg, who art no greater than the boil-brained malt-worm that bears your mothers name!! Ha, away from me you onion-eyed nave!!

 

How dare you you sire. Thou art a malevolent breaker of wind! and thy face hath such charms as to stagger the charging beast!

 

A pox on thee and thy maleficent issue! for thou  art a disease in want of a tissue! If seed of thine were stirred into the pool, 'twould  be the shallow end!

 

Thou pribbling milk-livered moldwarp!

 

Thou art a yeasty beef-witted moldwarp and, by the by, may thou be plagued with reeky, pox-marked barin and a droning, beetle-headed harpy fer ye wife!

 

May thy codpeice and what little  is therein fester and scab!

 

By now you get an idea of what these ‘puking motbrained skainsmates’ ………. Now they have even got me at it. ……

 

There then started a mock sword fight which culminated in them all dying (A lot of people die in Shakespeare’s plays).

 

 

The words really failed me when I saw what my ‘Mistress of the heavy gusset’s costume . She was dressed in a tattered chiffon drape with seaweed strung around her neck, one of the group in front was carrying a huge fan which blew the wifes clothing and hair as though she was in a raging storm. Another was throwing water into her face. There was even a seagull tied to a pole which was whirling about their heads. The effect was really good in a Tempest sort of way She was the heroin on the deck of the doomed ship plunging ever deeper into the waves, her hand held to her forehead in a forlorn manner searching for a safe haven in which to rest  her troubled bosoms.  (phew exciting stuff this)

By now I had abandoned all hope of making a short film and exited up the bread aisle towards the checkouts. Here I hesitated. I hate going through supermarket checkouts without buying anything. You are forced to go past the tills and squeeze by the shoppers who are checking out their goods. Why do I feel guilty? I am not shop lifting or getting food and eating it as I walk around then exiting empty handed with crumbs on my chin. No I am innocent of any wrong doing. So why do I feel all eyes in the store are looking at me thinking me a thief, but as there is no evidence cannot confront me?

I digress back to the story

The hesitation at the checkouts was my undoing as I heard the unmistakable voice of my little queen of the earwax  cut through the normal noises of a busy store.

“And where do you think your going”

“Nowhere dearest just checking out the hot cross buns”

“So can we start filming then I feel a Helen Mirran moment coming on.

I had a bad feeling about this but when the wife says jump I only ask how high?

In my mind I had planned a simple scene. A young lady walking down the aisle carrying my bag past a young man whom she looks at with a wry smile. Then, a close up of her finger letting the string go and then a shot of groceries spilling across the floor. The young man helps to pick them up and comes nose to nose with the young lady. They both smile. The end.        Simples  ccssskk as the Meerkat would say.

But no. This was too easy.

“I need motivation” she said.

“All you have to do is carry a bag, pull the string and grovel on the floor for a bit”

“ No dahhhhling I need to know why I came to shop, who I am,  where I have been, where am I going?”

Thinks ,,,,,, You silly person you came to make a film, Your an overbearing ‘always get my own way’ wife, You have been a pain in the derrière for more years than I care to think about and hopefully you old hag you are going straight down to old Nick.

“Look my dearest all you are doing is carrying a bag, we wont even see your beautiful face” I said through gritted teeth. (the face thing was true the last thing I wanted was for utube to x rate the film )

After many minutes of arguing she agreed to follow the script but with her own interpretation.

Her interpretations went thus -

The script. A young lady walking down the aisle.    Her.   A middle aged lady?? Doing a funny sort of mincing wobble/John Wayne swagger.

The script.She looks with a wry smile      Her.   A grimace … something between a snarl and an evil person with wind.

The script. Her finger letting go of string     Her.   She just could not do this, a simple operation hold the bag but let go of the string = hold the string and let go of the bag = let go of the whole thing = pick up the bag without holding the string = Think of any combination apart from the correct one and she did it.

The script. Comes nose to nose with the young lady    Her.   Any sensible person upon seeing my wifes face will stay away as far as possible. The closest the actor got before he jumped up and ran screaming out of the store was three feet

And so alas dear reader  you will understand why there is not an instructional video.

 

Four days into the auction and very little interest.

It is normally at this time in the auction that I give a bit of encouragement to rouse the spirits and stir the loins

St Ebays day speech.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he today that bids this 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 fair auction and won.

Or if you are one of those  a modern gangsta type fellows I see around Leicesters clock tower

Rap version of St Ebays Speech

Me happy homies, me rock steady crew.

Bid wiv me an be one of der few,

Dat is ma bro even if yo dissed,

Dis sale goin down jus can't be missed,

And gangsta's in der cribs all smashed out,

When dey got no ganga de all will shout.

They'l old der standin eavy when dey seed,

Da ones who bid wid me an won de weed.

 

 

On the subject re lack of instructions. If the lucky winner needs lessons on how to operate the bag I will willingly give classes. These start at £100 per day plus travelling expenses or if at my location £200 per day. This may seem a tad expensive by some but “what price happiness” is what I say. In later life you will look back and think this money a good investment, a small price to pay for a life of romance and good fortune

A note added halfway through the auction

Well I must say I am a bit under whelmed with the response to what I think is probably one of the most useful inventions of the 21st century. Yes a tad disappointing, but! There is yet hope for mankind, all is not lost. There are still four days in which to make that life altering decision. Four days … that’s 345600     seconds and a second is all it takes to click that bid now button, each one of those seconds that ticks inexorably by is a chance missed, a chance to change your life and the lives of those loved ones around you. Everyone knows someone who at 35+ years old are still living with their parents or alone in a one bedroom flat longing to meet THE ONE, the person who will be their soul mate. Also spare a thought for the parents who despair of their offspring ever leaving home. They would like at least one holiday on their own before they pop off.

I am reminded of the Lyrics in the Beatles song  Eleanor Rigby

 

Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Had Miss Eleanor Rigby owned   THE FOGGYDAVE PATENTED PERSON IN DISTRESS CARRIER BAG  then her loneliness may have been banished her unfulfilled love sated. That ‘Face in a jar by the door’ could have been devotional items in her Foggydave carrier bag that could have been spilled for father McKenzie, who, finding true love makes Miss Rigby Mrs McKenziee. They then have 6 children one of whom invents the perpetual motion machine and banishes world poverty in 10 years. But no Miss Rigby died alone and my electricity and gas bill continue to rise out of all proportion to the cost of living index. Oh cruel world.

 

There is a wise old saying. ‘Out of little acorns strong oak trees grow’. Remember all it takes is a click of the mouse. You know it makes sense.

I also received an email from blingmaster

  Q     Like is this auction for real like???? Cos me an me bruv is avin a few probs pullin the birds like,innit. See me bruv as bad acne like an is face is like right orrible so I wus finkin the bag might be useful. Right see e does the thing with the string thing  an when the bird comes up to elp im e puts the bag over his ed iding is mush like innit. Can yu cut 2 oles innit for is eyes innit????

 A       I suppose he could put a gallon of  Clearasil in the bag with a few boxes of tissues that may give her clue

 

 

The last day of the auction

Well this is the last day of the auction. I don’t know what to say. ……….. Surely someone out in Ebay land can see how useful this invention is, as I said before if not for themselves then maybe for someone else. I am not trying to sell this wonderful bag for any monetary gain. I don’t crave a life of luxury, loose women and fast cars. No! These things mean nothing to me compared to what I can do for mankind to bring each and every one together in love and harmony. Its you the lonely person alone in your bed sit for yet another night of mindless television who craves a love they shall never have. Its you the lonely person in the Co op buying ready meals for one, dreaming of cooking a meal for two, two lovers with candles, proper napkins and a good £5 bottle of wine in proper glasses. Mmmmmmmm BUT NO you will carry on as you have done for so many lonely years, the chance missed the glass not drunk from. All I hope is that I have planted a seed of an idea in your mind so that, maybe not this year but in a few years when you reach a time when you feel one more loveless day will be too much you can construct your own Foggydave Patented Person in Distress Carrier Bag and win your hearts desire.

 

I will then sue you for every sad penny you have because this idea is patented. BE WARNED.

 

Thank you for looking and if you have enjoyed reading this story please go to my web site where there are a lot more  stories on past Ebay sales. I also hope to list again in the next month or so.

 

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