I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes.
I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over.
I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong.
And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions.
I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely.
It's what we do.
Saturday, 13 October 2012
That Fokker's a Babe-Magnet!
This one isn't a Fokker. See how glum and un-animated those girls are?
This one, though?
Which reminds me, of the old World War II pilot, invited into a girls' school, to talk about his experiences.
He's waving his arms around, his hands depicting dogfight duels, he says, " All of a sudden, Blam! holes in my wing, I look over my shoulder and there's this fucker on my tail!"
"Girls", the head-teacher breaks in, "Stop your sniggering, a Focke is a type of german fighter plane..."
The old man pauses. "That's very true, Miss. Only this fucker was a Messerschmitt!"