Saturday Gas / February 24 2007
I had to bundle the man from Transco out of the door – quite roughly – to prevent him from turning off my gas supply this morning.
I awoke to the sour odour of a gaseous leak that was drifting from the kitchen. As it turns out, it was merely a loose connection on the intake pipe that lies quietly in the dust and cobwebs behind my ancient cooker. It only needed a quick, firm twist with my favourite adjustable spanner and – voila! …the connection was retightened and the leak sealed.
That didn’t satisfy the Gorky-moustachioed Mr Transco and his keen intentions, however. Using all his Transco powers – including his little, beady pig-eyes (he resembled George Bush in a strange way), his rancid halitosis and his extravagant body odour – he tried for a full minute or more to reach the meter under the stairs. He was desperate to disconnect my supply. Bodily struggling with him, he was hissing over and over: ‘It’s the law, it’s my job, it’s my sworn bloody duty to King and Country – ‘
I thought that he wanted to dance with me because he wouldn’t let go, but neither would I. During our odd embrace, I was slightly disorientated. I noticed that he had an obvious physical deformity: one of his arms was perceptibly shorter than the other. This is nothing to be ashamed of; we all have at least one arm shorter than the other, don’t we.
My observation didn’t stop me from swinging him around (he was quite small) and eventually pushing him out of the door. Sitting in his little van, he revved his engine and then sped off. I’m sure he’ll report me to some special authority or other. Idiot.
Filed under Bush / Conspiracy Theory / Humour / Idiots
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