So, the possessed toaster has raised it's ugly head again.
I say "possessed" because it never really cooked toast in a consistant manner. Without changing the "browning" settings on the toaster it would either not cook the bread or burn it to within an inch of it's life. It was more of a "cremator" than a toaster at the best of times.
Anyway.... Here I was assured that I had witnessed it being ceremoniously dumped in the garbage bin in Sydney, yet, 600kms away I come home and find it sitting on the kitchen bench complete with taunting message in reflector tape, haunting me.
Not only the toaster, but the bastard mongrel "Pope" whippersnipper that I ran over with the lawn egder (somewhat accidentally on purpose) has also turned up.
Whippersnippers and I DO NOT see eye to eye. I would much rather push the Victa from here to Perth than to whippersnip a 5cm strip of grass. However, my father thought it wise to keep the damned thing thinking that he would repair it one day, instead he gave it to Bloke to repair, so here it is back in our shed. I thought I had done a good enough job so that it would just go to whippersnipper hell, but clearly I didn't try hard enough!
In hindsight I should have run over the bastard thing twice, but after the first go I had to stop the edger and untangle all the battery lines, starter cord and fuel line before I could go any further.
Those of you involved, sleep with one eye open! Hilarious!
