There’s no cock without fire.

January 14, 2008

It is very cold in the house now. No radiator in the lounge and I can see my breath, too long in there and i’ll get frost bite on my danglies, I watched it on the TV once, on my last expedition to the Arctic, a guide had his knob chopped off due to frost bite, his cock looked like a badly sun burnt slug that had snorted a value size pack of table salt.

To avoid this kind of episode I set about finding some logs for the fire to warm us up a bit. What was left in the log heap at both the garden centre and the petrol station was old and soggy. Who really wants a wet soggy log, apart from someone with a bad case of piles?

Apparently the local log man had not delivered any dry logs that day so it looked like a cold night ahead, possibly with a hot water bottle down my trousers. I’m no supply chain expert but I reckon that chopping up a tree and putting it in a lorry is not the most complex of processes, and I’m pretty sure we haven’t run out of trees yet as I think it may have appeared on the TV.

Anyway, I would like to thank who will deliver some dry logs to my door this week so I can avoid any kind of pecker amputation.