On old boilers

Readers with long memories or the burning urge to read through my archives while no doubt remember the one thing that I have got out of seven years' writing this guff: The Guardian Memorial Combination Boiler, modelled here by my very good friend, Fletcher T. Brezhnev.

It was with a certain amount of surprise that I learned – one evening in 2002 – that I had accidentally won that national newspaper's competition, naming this site the Best Weblog in Britain, and by extension, the World.

Alas, my plans for the thousand pound prize (top class slattern, slap-up meal at a Berni, finally paying off certain people over that whole 'Buggered Watermelons' thing) varied slightly from those of the level-headed and fragrant Mrs Duck, who immediately pissed the entire grand up the wall on a new boilers, so our household could enjoy such luxuries as "hot water" and "central heating".

Alas, and knowing full well that this site celebrates its seventh birthday tomorrow, The Guardian Memorial Combination Boiler has chosen this exact time to pack up and demand two hundred quid through its criminal lackeys at Br*t*sh G*s before it will function again.

Having got more right-wing as I got old, this is the kind of thing I've come to expect from a combination boiler provided by a bearded, sandal-wearing socialist newspaper such as The Guardian. A good, stout BRITISH Daily Mail boiler would still be fully functional, powered by the burning corpses of Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand.

So, instead of lying back and wondering where my next slattern is coming from (despite having one clearly marked in my Amazon Wish List), I am forced to go out and cut down the only tree on the Isle of Portland in order to heat my house.

It's all a bit of an inconvenience, as they're still using it as the island's official gibbet and it's fairly packed with dangling things of all shapes and species, providing carrion for passing seagulls and feral kids. Only last week they strung up a horse as a BLASPHEMER after a passing local heard it neighing the words "I love Satan" followed by the theme to (s)hit ITV Saturday drama 'Demons'.

Can't say I blame them, to be honest.

So. Today's lessons are these: 'Fame is not all it is cracked up to be', and ...err...'Please send cash'.

Oh, and: 'There's still plenty of good eating to be had on a week-dead horse'.