Not Pew The Elop

My nineteen-year-old Honda S2000 sailed through the MOT today. I'm so grateful to RJ's guy for discovering a nail in one of the rear tyres and repairing it.

I got stung on the wrist by a wasp as I was locking the shed padlock. I think the insect might have been inside the chunky, rusty, ancient lock. 

Openreach set up temporary traffic lights in the road outside as they had to replace a cable. Mishka loved the bloke in my pic, she didn't bark at him and let him stroke her through the gate. He's not pew the elop, as my mother-in-law used to say in backslang. It seems that, though the poles have footrests, the engineers use cherry pickers these days.

After I saw him wielding that hammer I couldn't stop singing this.