The Curse of the Black Finger

The Curse of the Black Finger - A Catharsis Special

Kids! Be careful when carrying out DIY in the comfort of your own home. Better still, get a grown-up to do it for you instead. However, when you pay large quantities of money to some lazy, chain-smoking, tea-guzzling bullshitter to build an extension on your house, you would be best advised to go to any reasonable means short of crapping through their letterbox to ensure they finish the job.

This may well prevent them from fucking off when they get bored, leaving you to finish the job yourself, crushing your mouse-dobbing finger under a two-pound lump hammer, leaving a mess reminiscent of a car crash in a wine gum factory.

Speaking as a minor internet celebrity, this finger is the key to my fame and fortune, and its subsequent loss of use (I am now officially "special") means that I only alternative is to trawl ebay for a head-dobber. Damn you lazy, chain-smoking, tea-guzzling bullshitter!

Builders! When you decide to leave your customers in the lurch by fucking off before the end of a job, make sure that you haven't gone and signed any sort of binding contract, allowing your black-fingered client to a) write firm yet legally sound letters asking for restitution and b) whup your arse through the courts until it hurts.

And when you go whinging to a random solicitor about it, do make sure you show him said binding contract before he rattles out a letter threatening your client with all kinds of financial and legal nastiness. When he finally gets to see the contract, he will, in all probability, laugh as much as I did.

Have I forgot anything? Ah yes. Doors. When you cut holes for doors a) don't use a sledgehammer because you'll bring the whole fucking wall down and b) don't make the hole exactly the same size as the wood because you CAN'T GET THE FUCKING THING OPEN. Three words: Fawlty. Fucking. Towers.

And there is a subtle difference between "retired stone mason in the final throes of Parkinsons" and "professional plasterer" that even I noticed after two days trying to skim one wall.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Sale of Goods and Services Act 1982, and long may she sail.

And - relax...

Arse-covering corner: This blog entry is the personal opinion of the author and is in no way legally binding.