An idiot’s guide to getting those creamy jobs.

As far as negotiating your way to Butler Sheetmetal goes, this morning was as treacherous as you could get – black ice, freezing fog and a Monday morning head-mist do not a successful combination make. And that was sufficiently evident as I started to drift sideways down one particular side road at a rather jaunty angle. Dispensing various parked cars of their wing-mirrors was the least of my worries as I caught a glimpse of a Ford Transit gaining on me rather sharpish but at an opposite jaunty angle.

We made quite a display team.

And we both made it to the bottom of the road and I to BSM in one piece.

Anyway, after a half hour huddle round the solitary kerosene heater – it either warms you up or you get so cranked up off the fumes that you don’t care you were cold in the first place – the door burst open and in popped Eddie the Electrocutioner with an ironing board metal foot he wanted welding back on.

It was some rickety old orange thing that he’d had for 35 years and had the top replaced 15 times and the feet 17.

It’s a damn good thing he had John on the job as Matt’s hourly rate is sufficient to start your own ironing board stall on Colne market.

Please feel free to share your tightest false economy tales in the comments below.