Smack My Lips Up

I wandered into work last Thursday to find John wittering merrily away on the phone. There’s obviously nothing particularly unusual in that other than I soon realised he was leaving a message for me on my home phone.

Things became a tad surreal as he realised I was stood next to him but still continued to leave a message nonetheless telling me how I was stood next to him and generally unable to get his head round the concept. It almost felt as if I was in the middle of a Hollywood haunting scene.

His loose grasp on reality became even more evident once I noticed dried blood at the corner of his mouth. Thankfully, he’d just had his gammy tooth pulled. It was quite apparent that the anaesthetic hadn’t quite worn off as he went for a sip of his brew only for it to squirt out of the other side of his mouth and down his shirt front.

As with any type of injury or impediment at Butler Sheetmetal, somebody always has to go one better.

Not only did John need a straw to sup a cup of tea, a la Pete Burns, but his brother, Matt, found himself looking like the former eighties popstar/shim after a rogue sanding disc, or some such, smacked him square in the kisser on Monday.

Pete Burns – Those sanding discs spin right round baby, right round.

Anyway, today Matt just looks like he’s had an extreme case of the cuties cooties – either that or he’s glued a load of cheap crunchy nut cornflakes to his top lip.