Diluted Dante wrote:

Is it sonic?

That's a hedgehog.

It has multiple heads though (the screwdriver, not the hedgehog), so it can do almost anything.

The problem comes with insuring your work. Which also means if your landlord is doing all the maintenance himself then you should ask him about his insurance as it's probably lapsed or he's paying a mate from the pub to sign off on the work he's doing, dangerous but lucrative game

I'm kinda lucky in that my current landlady is pretty cool. Can do whatever I like really, but in reality that means I have to rehang two doors, and really should put a new mixer tap on the kitchen sink. The idea scares me, is it that difficult. Tell me it's all washers and screws, as I'm not soldering copper

cockbeard wrote:

The problem comes with insuring your work. Which also means if your landlord is doing all the maintenance himself then you should ask him about his insurance as it's probably lapsed or he's paying a mate from the pub to sign off on the work he's doing, dangerous but lucrative game

I don't need to worry about it any more, I've left that place and it's just the coke head cunt of a mate of mine and a crazy conspiracy theory nut living there now. TBH, I was never entirely convinced he'd done half the paperwork necessary to rent out somewhere, so it wouldn't surprise me if it wasn't even insured.

I feel like a man. Pity Rock has gone.

Kow wrote:

I feel like a man. Pity Rock has gone.

You may yet get your chance.

Liveinadive wrote:

superflyninja wrote:

Since moving into my house Disassembled and reassembled the door of a car.

That can be a right dick of a job, especially if it is anything to do with the door lock cables or the window.

Yup it was. On a Megane. The electric window would randomly stop working. Much to my surprise......Mainly I was trying ot see if the motor etc was getting wet. Which it wasnt.
Fucking Renault. Never again.

superflyninja wrote:

Fucking Renault. Never again.

I feel that pain. Mrs J had a Megane some years back (a Mk1 revision). It had hydraulically adjusted tappets that would not stay adjusted for more than a few weeks. You needed specialist equipment to sort them, which meant a trip to a main dealer and a £300 bill every 2-3 months.

Needless to say, I sold the sodding thing after 6 months. Last time she ever got free reign on buying a car...

Considering I’m a poncey designer by trade and mostly sit in front of a Mac or a boardroom all day, I’m actually pretty good at manly making/fixing/breaking things.

I think four years of art school teaches you to do things for yourself.

I currently have three skinned knuckles and a fuckoff blister on the palm of my hand from the weekend’s DIY and furniture-adjusting. Proof of physical labour. Badges of bloodstained honour.

I miss having a garage, mind you. Used to spend a lot of evenings/weekends working on old cars. Taking them apart taught me how they work.

I have also built a table

davyK wrote:

Changed a belt on a tumble dryer.

One man doing a two man job is manpoint multiplier.  I got my brother in law to help me both times the belt's gone.

Sometimes when I have sex I feel like a man.

My dad's manpointometer is still whirring up from the time he admitted he had two broken ribs, whilst apologising for having to put his end of a washing machine down halfway up a flight of stairs.  He'd had a problem with a group of youths that were bothering someone on the train a week before, but I thought the black eye was the worst of it - didn't realise they'd busted his ribs in the Guardian of the Railways melee.  He told me he'd managed to get a tight grip a pair of bollocks while they were kicking him, and creased up.  Then we carried on with the washing machine.

One more dad story, as I've got none to add of my own (apart from stuff like 'I once carried a washing machine all the way up some stairs').  I saw him box a man to the ground in a gentlemanly fashion when I was about 8 or 9, and shook the man's hand as he helped him up.  Whether or not they should have been fighting over a parking space, the hand shake was still a nice gesture.

The DIY injuries I have seen my Dad do to his hands are horrific.

Took chunks out of his hands the size of smarties when and angle grinder disc exploded.

Sliced his thumb open with sheet aluminium, then ran into the house hyped on adrenaline shouting "look kids" as he peeled his thumb back to reveal the bone.

One day he was due to run me to work before I could drive. He said he would just do a quick job first, digging up the concrete lump in the lawn where the washing line had been. He got a lump hammer and a giant metal chisel, one whack and silence.
He caught his hand between the hammer and chisel smashing his knuckle. I had to do the gears for him on the drive to work, he drove in second to the hospital.

hahaha, love these

My old man asked my mum (foster parents) what she was doing on 12th Aug 1955, she said no plans yet, so he handed her a ring

If I ever propose it will be with the same sense of purpose rather than spectacle