Bathroom Blues

And a screw …

I bought a stash of these huge blue rolls, designed for professional, or even industrial cleaning scenarios. Each one is about the size of the tires on the novelty beach buggies driven by the Banana Splits in the 1970s children's tv show.

I got them partly as a joke. My plan was to put them in the bathroom, where their bizarre size and bulk would cause consternation and bafflement. I thought that perhaps the person reaching out for the paper might for a moment think that they had been suddenly rendered tiny, rather than the roll being oversized.

But I also thought they'd be functional both in the toilet context, and also for general cleaning. Alas, it turns out that they don't break down like loo paper, so you shouldn't flush them.

Anyway, the rolls sort of worked as planned, joke-wise, but not well enough to compensate for the fact I now have to store them somewhere (there are 12 of them, and en masse take up the same volume as a Fiat Panda).

And then this morning on our walk, I found this large screw on the floor. I pocketed it, saying that you should never turn down a free screw. Then Mrs McG went off on one, saying that when she was gone (gone here summoning up not the reverential closing of the coffin lid, but the furious and final slamming of the front door) I'd become one of those mad old blokes you read about in the local paper, found dead with their face chewed off by the starving cats in a house so full of rubbish he had to live in a sort of nest in the middle, like a badger in his sett. Which all seemed a bit harsh.

So, anyway, now I have to find a use for the blue roll and the screw to prove her wrong. Suggestions welcome.