Saturday, 14 March 2009

Inkspot in Lakeland

"Dad, let's get a blowtorch so we can make creme brulee." 

Not a bad idea, it would have sorts of other domestic purposes; you can't remove pubic hair or deal with earwax under a grill.

Brrinng, brrinng. "Hello, Lakeland, can I help?" 

[Can you help what? Stop being grumpy Inkspot, they're trained to do it.] "Hello, Inkspot here." 

"I'm sorry, who?" [What's this who business? Inkspot, with a significant position at Precision Handling, on kissing terms with a Pan's Person. Oh for god's sake pull yourself together.]

"Never mind, do you have blowtorches for sale?"

"Yes sir, certainly, one at £599-99 and the other at £39-99."

Well, that's it, sold, look at how much money I'm saving by getting the cheaper one. So off I tool and, not without difficulty ("They're by the gondola" Gondola? There is nothing here remotely gondolesque, or even Venetian. It appears that gondola is current sales talk for an ordinary display cabinet) find a blowtorch. Having been burnt (ho ho) before, I read the label. "Sold empty". "Excuse me, do you sell gas for these things?" "I'm sorry sir, no."

Sometimes a conversation just ends itself.

13 comments:

Barbara said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Anonymous said...

did you tell them what they could do with their gondola?

inkspot said...

Nurse, no, I wasn't wearing the right clothes. is there a Wheels and Dollbaby for bokes?

Anonymous said...

actually they do make t-shirts for men......

Gadjo Dilo said...

I was expecting the sales assistant from Lakeland to be somebody of Wordsworthian poise, but it seems that he/she was recruited from Dixons. Maybe if you buy the more expensive one then the gas comes with it ;-)

Dr Maroon said...

You are surely familiar with Bacon’s Dictum: “Go for the dearer one if you can.”
Mind, Bacon died of food poisoning before crème brule was invented. What did he know; eh?

Mrs Pouncer said...

Inky, your children sound delightful. If mine were to find a dinky flamethrower in the kitchen, it would be used to artificially distress a piece of work for Art A Level, or to heat up the base of a spoon. Imagine the ghastliness chez moi.

inkspot said...

Sorry Gadj, Lakeland's shopping bags feature daffodil yellow (on an Oxford blue background), but that is the sole Wordsworthian note to be found there.

No Bacon on this blog, please, Dr M, it often offends. And I have no track record to prove my sensitivity to vegetarians.

Art is _not_ a proper school subject, Mrs P. OTOH I applaud a serious interest in chemistry.

Mrs Pouncer said...

Quite right, Inky. Not very kosher of Maroon.

Art is a proper subject. I have Art A Level, and so has Scarlet. Chemistry, on the other hand, is gay. And the sort of Chemistry that interests my boys is almost certainly indictable.

PI said...

I have pondered on a blowtorch so am grateful for the research and will eschew it.

inkspot said...

By gay, Mrs P, you mean hard and uncompromisingly butch, no?

Blimey PI, we haven't had anything eschewed on this blog since Mrs P eschewed me for overstepping the mark about her comments. IIRC, she went so far as to skorn me. Uterly. Are you going to skorn the blowtorch? If you do, make sure it's got no gas in it. Not a problem at Lakeland, obviously.

scarlet-blue said...

Why hasn't anyone made any farty jokes yet? We're talking about gas, yes?
Sx

Mrs Pouncer said...

Scarlet, you used to drag the discourse to the gutter. Now, you drag it to the schoolroom. We will NOT be making jokes about flatulence, dyspepsia, constipation or Derbyshire Neck syndrome. Inkspot is above this sort of caper. The only schoolgirl humour he is interested in features a well-worn fantasy, a St Triniansesque vista wherein I feature as the Art mistress, inviting him to get a load of my gesso.