You know that feeling of disappointment, - the one where someone has given you something you've been waiting for for ages, something you are just desperate to get your hands on, then it arrives and you are sooooo happy and excited and you start using/wearing it only to find that after a couple of weeks it breaks/the sleeves fall off/it unravels?
Oh, nothing to do with Christmas, obviously. No, all my prezzies there are just delightfully going strong. Apart from the ones I've eaten, and most of those were meant to be eaten, so that's all right. No. Remember several weeks ago, when I got indecently excited about the fact that I had bought myself a new hoover head for my birthday?
Yes. I know it was sad. But, let's face it, if you don't buy a hoover head for yourself, then who else is going to buy one for you? So, anyway. I bought a lovely, brand-new and inordinately expensive new head for my Dyson Pet. That's a hoover that is especially designed for picking up pet hair, not that I've got a pet with interchangeable heads, that goes around sucking bits off the floor....no, actually, all my pets go around sucking bits off the floor, particularly if those 'bits' are cheese or biscuit related. It looked like this...
Six weeks later, the head stopped working. Yep, in the midst of the Christmas clear-up, it just made a brief, funny noise and ceased its rotation. I am poor, and that head cost me a week's food money! And now I am poor and annoyed and without a working hoover! Of course I have e-mailed Dyson! In fact, a brief exchange has been continuing since Thursday, but so far all I've had from them has been a computer-generated e-mail asking for the serial number of my hoover (which is fairly irrelevant, since it's not the hoover that is broken, they supplied me with the new head and have the order details, and I'd quite like to speak to a person not a computer).
Well. If this situation continues much longer they are going to feel the wrath of the comedy blogger! Not, I hasten to add, the comedy wrath of the blogger, which is something different and involves me hitting people with a squeaky bladder on a stick whilst wearing tinsel.
Yes, I am cross, people. Cross. You may wish to avoid me for the next few days until this matter is resolved. If the matter has to be resolved with the old 'squeaky bladder on a stick' routine, you may wish to avoid me for even longer...