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Captain Plastic

You made a time-machine... out of a Delorean?

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A few weeks ago I received a dodgy looking brown parcel - I knew it was either a MASSIVE pigmy porn collection I won off eBay or, and most likely, set of 4 brake discs and Yellow Stuff pads from EBC. It was the brakes.

The following Saturday morning - myself, me, moi and I and my youngest off-spring decided to change all the discs and pads. Well, I decided to do it - the off-spring wanted to watch Ben and Hollies Little Kingdom.

After jacking up the car (not drugs) we chocked it, axel stranded it. Took the wheel, and old disc off etc, etc. That was the easy bit. But then I had to become all Jedi - and embark on an exploration into my inner 'peaceful' sanctum. Having a 3 1/2 year old moving every tool, picking up everything and emptying a container of dot 5 all over the drive - because the off-spring 'wanted to recycle the container' was challenging. However, it was when I started cleaning the hub with a wire brush that the off-spring was genuinely amazed. What alchemy was this? It was bonding moment, I gave the off-spring the old rusty disc and a wire brush - and set him to work, whilst I greased my nipples an lubricated my slider pins in blissful harmony with the vehicle.

As I reached for one of the lovely black coated discs - I saw said off-spring had also stripped two of the new discs of their coating with his wire brush. He must have been frenzied - because he didn't an amazing job - in seconds. Hats off.

I couldn't really tell him off, it was my fault - he didn't know.

So, now umpteen hours in, I have no brake fluid, scratched disc and most of my tools are hiding in the hedge. That mixed with the off-spring getting bored, the rain coming in, a rapidly approaching tea-time and darkness falling faster than gravity - and knowing I wouldn't have time to do the other side - I slapped the old disc back on.

Apart from having spent some time with the off-spring (which was worth it's weight it platinum) it was an unmitigated disaster.

In a few weeks, when work calms down, and I've worked my way through the highs and lows of pigmy porn (the P&P was outrageous) I'm going to try again. It'll be like a Salmon swimming up stream, navigating past the hungry bears - only to find John West owns the river and I'm swimming towards the canning factory.

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