How to feel like a prat

You Will Need
one Vauxhall Vectra
One wife
A new car stereo
A C in GCSE Physics (an A at O’level will surfice)
A breakdown service
A carpark
A well known motorfactors
No knowledge

Drive Vectra through busy city
Park up.
Fiddle with newly fitted radio
Start engine
Drive off
Indicate to turn left
Notice that you have no indicator clicking
Notice that your instrument panel is not registering your speed, petrol level or engine temperature
Drive round a roundabout with no indicator
Try and remember the hand signal for “I intend to turn left”
Park up in Motor factors car park
Look at manual for which fuse might have blown
Nip into well known motor factors
Speak to clueless sales assistant
Speak to clueless sales assistants equally clueless elder work colleague pretending to sound knowledgeable
Listen with dread as said sales assistants elder work colleague sucks teeth and recommends going to a garage
Be inspired by glimmer of hope from sales assistants elder work colleague suggesting long shot specialist fuse box under bonnet solution
Leave shop
Look under bonnet
See said fusebox
Notice fusebox doesn’t look like man in shop described
Get wife to call breakdown service
Feel assured when told service will take 40 minutes
Read manual out of boredom
Notice asterisk
Read footnote
Remove fuse panel
Take out fuse 22
Notice fuse 22 has blown
Run back into shop before it closes
Pick up fuses
Join queue of old people
Get served (eventually)
Run out
Notice breakdown service van
Discuss with man in breakdown service van your theory
Let breakdown service man laugh at your ineptness
Let breakdown service man fit fuse
Sign form
Feel a prat for not calmly reading manual before panicking and calling for help

Author: stegzy

Once, long ago, I wrote frequently on Livejournal. I then moved to Blogspot, where I discovered that blogging requires an audience. So I moved back to LJ. Then over to Dreamwidth, back to LJ, up the road of self hosting with Muckybadger before giving up entirely and moving over to Wordpress. It was at that moment I decided I would spread my compostual nonsense simultaneously across the blogosphere like some rancid margarine. And so here I am. I am a badger. But then I'm not really a badger. I am a human. With badger like tendencies. I am a writer, a film producer and a social commentator. I am available for Breakfast TV shows, documentaries and chats in the pub with journalists where I am more than qualified enough to talk confidently about absolute shite and bollocks.

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