Hammer time

It’s Shana’s birthday this weekend, so she got me a prezzie. (Work that out if you can πŸ™‚ )

Anyway, long story short, today I took delivery of a shiny new crosscut shredder. Let no-one accuse me of not being tech-savvy.

And this afternoon I kept myself busy shredding loads of our old archive documents, mainly ancient bills and invoices, that sort of stuff.

‘You seem to be enjoying yourself,’ chuckled Shana.

‘Yes. I’m keen on power tools,’ I replied. ‘And this is a power tool, right? After all, it’s doing a useful job, so it’s clearly a tool. And it’s using electricity. Which is quite obviously power. Ergo, it’s a power tool.’

‘…’ said Shana. Speechless.

‘For this shredder to be a real macho tool though,’ I said, ‘it would have to be more like my drill. Which means it would have to have a ‘hammer’ setting. How’s that for a gap in the market: a hammer shredder!’

Shana muttered something incredulous in bold. But, lik McFadden and Whitehead, there was no stopping me now.

‘Some genius inventor, like that Dyson bloke who reinvented the hoover, could have a field day with this idea. The world is, though it might not realise it yet, crying out for things such as a hammer lawnmower, hammer ovens. And the ultimate in manly tools: a hammer hammer. Oh pooh!’

No, not hammer pooh (fortunately). My exclamation back there was because my hammer shredder had gotten a bit too warm and had shut itself off to cool down. Maybe it had been reading some of those bills as they went through its dinky little blades.

Or maybe I’d just been a bit too enthusiastic with my new birthday present. Sometimes I just don’t know when to stop, do I?


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