Bought A 9" Angle Grinder .....

  Angle Grinders. Handy things. Ye never really know what ye going to want one for, in a home / DIY situation, till ye need one.

  Well, I seem to have found no end of uses for one. Three, in fact! Because that's how many I've fucking got through, since coming here a bare decade ago!

  4 1/2" ones. I swear to god; I hardly get any use out of them and, in the middle of some piddling little job? Smoke and smell. Fuckers die in my hands!

  Ah, yes. Even as I typed the above, look, it came back to me. That's why I want one. My grave stones. I want to make some grave stones.

  I asked Pat about it and he advised putting a couple of lengths of re bar in each one. So, I'd need to cut the re bar, of course. Need a fucking angle grinder.

  It was already bothering me, to be honest with ye. Thought of setting a poxy little 4 1/2" one to chop, chop and Chop fucking re bar! I could be half a day at it and burn the thing out before I'd even got there!

  What ever. I was in town, the other day. Just about to go and get my meat when I remembered I wanted to check for grinders. I turned and went to the builders shop.

  Lo and behold! Where, last time, there had been No grinders; Now they had Two. Hitachi ~ the only make I'll touch, these days. And in 4 1/2" and 9" ! Wow! Just look at That bad boy!!!

  So, I'm standing there. And I'm thinking; " I really could do with That big monster. It'll have so much more guts in it. I'd virtually be sacrificing the little one to the re bar .....

  But, how much must it be?! My power saw was about three ton. Screw Driver a couple. SDS Drill, what? Four ton?!  Fucks me!!!

 Did a quick gut reaction reckoning. Guessed I could probably stomach the three ton ....? It hasn't been a bad month. Probably about to nose dive into the pits of hell. At least I'd have a decent fucking tool left.

  I put my glasses on ..... €99.99 !!!!! I almost Shit my fucking self!!! A mistake. Surely?! I looked at the little one. €75.00. I still wasn't convinced of it. I spotted a price label on the 9"ers box. Yep! €99.99!

  Fuck This!!! I've grabbed it and put it on the counter. Mentally preparing myself to argue with the sales bloke; " By law, ye have to sell at the price the label says! .......... Don't ye? "

  No arguments necessary. Eustace went and got me a fresh, non display one.  Took my ton and wished me a good day. Fuck!

  Back to the pub I've gone. Put my trophy on the shelf and started regaling all and sundry  about this wonderful deal I'd just got. Fuck off big, 9" angle grinder, for a Ton!

  And, of course, it's a pub. We're men. Drinking beer ....? " What man wouldn't like Nine Inches?! Eh? Nudge, nudge!  Wink, wink! " To much hilarity, of course. Raised glasses. Winks. 'Snarf, snarf!'

  A few pints later, and Tommy arrived, to run me home. " Was that an Angle Grinder I saw ye had there? " 

Much wide eyed enthusing, of course. Once more I relayed my story. How they'd not had any, last time I looked .....

  " And, of course, mate ..... What man Wouldn't like Nine Inches!!!!! " Lulz ....!

  Tommy just drove on. Nothing. Not even a chuckle. I just figured some distraction had come to him at that moment.



  Today, it hit me: Few years ago now. Summer. Tommy had brought me home, as usual. Bright, sunny evening. We'd got out of the motor, outside my gate. I was unloading the boot as Tommy muttered that he must have a .....

  Like ye do, I turned and peered out across the land. Acted like nothing was going on. Gave it the prescribed sort of time. Then turned ~ that moment too soon, as it happens.

  Because, I just caught, in my peripheral vision, before spinning back to the land again, this nightmarish vision!  I'd got this blurred impression of Tommy waving his Arm around!  

  And yet, it couldn't have been. Because he plainly had two hands on the damn thing. And his hands were on the ends of his two arms ....!

  Ye know how the brain always tries to make sense of things? Applies what we know to what we're seeing? Well, that's how My brain screamed to me that it's okay. Tommy was just using his both hands to wave and shake a French Fucking Loaf!!!

  That's what it Had To be! My donkey was down there, on the meadow. There's no way He could have got mixed up in my line of sight. Tommy only had two arms. So, That thing was a French Loaf. My mind would have imploded otherwise. I had to rationalise it!

  And now here I am, years later. Suggesting to the same Tommy that he too might appreciate a whacking great nine inches. And there's him, going all tight lipped and thinking; 

  " Fuck that! Nine piddling inches?! I'll stick with what I've got, thanks! "


  The Fucking Horror!!!