The Christmas Tree Lights.

So.......the Christmas tree lights.
The Christmas tree lights, I finally remembered, were in the storage box on the roof. After a short argument with the toolbox and with the windbreak I eventually freed the lights and got on with putting them on the tree. What possessed me to do this without first checking they worked is something I will perhaps never understand for the rest of my life. They didn't work. Every bulb was checked, the fuse was changed. The bastards still did not work. I went to five hell's own arseholes (at other times of the year known as supermarkets). Apparently there was a rush on Christmas tree lights and they had none. Not one of the fuckers had them in. Like the stockists, I was frankly bewildered why there would be a rush on for Christmas tree lights at Christmas time, but, hey, there you go, who would have thought it. I finally found some in Poundstretcher, took them home and only then realised they were blue......and exactly eighteen inches long. I threw them off the roof. My last resort was B&Q. They had thousands of the shitty bastard things. Except that the smallest had 500 lights and are usually used for decorating the gable end of a four storey tenement rather than a 6ft Christmas tree.
But I didn't care anymore.

If you are intending popping by please bring with you a welder's mask.

Merry arsing Christmas.