Right Pongal wrote:Pete Reek, don't you be listening to Morenish and his Damascus barells. I heard it was a harpoon gun that he was operating with. With his hert and kidney trouble, he canna be seen to be leaning out windows and grabbing pheasants by the thrapple. No, he fires the harpoon, then reels in the string. The nearest he ever gets to the fishing, ye understand.
That's not all that was salvaged. Who would have thought that the vats for biling the blubber were still on the go. Aye, there was method in his madness when Morenish bought thon big brazier for the living room. Once a week, and no less, you'll see Mrs Morenish going out the back wae the hose firmly jubilleed to the mixer tap in the kitchen. She lifts the tarpaulin and the hatchboards at the centre of the back lawn to expose one of the long lost shark vats, and fills it close to the brim.
She then calls the kids to give her a hand wae Morenish's bath chair, and he's ceremoniously wheeled to the edge of the tank. The young fella is on hand to inflate the armbands and hook the collar of his bathrobe to the nearest tree trunk. Just as they gently rouse him from his slumber, they tip the chair forward with an hydraulic arrangement rigged to the PTO of the trusty tractor. In he goes! The family, fully togged out in full length dopers and seaboots, turn away, not to spare our heroe's embarassment, but to prevent them getting a facefull of hot water.
The remainder of the grass and the floor beds benefit as well, with a veritable tidal wave rippling out over the edges of the tank. At this point, poor Morenish regrets that he's Hert Lazy and Kidney be bothered!
However, when the ripples subside, he's handed one of those bath bombs out of Lush, you know the kind, full of natural flower petals that will choke the drains to boogery.
