OT: It shouldn't happen to an apprentice...

Glass hammer or my favourite enquiry of a sweet shop; "got any kick me over the counter drops" ttfn Roland

Down here, common vernacular is "bubble stick"

Tom

I sent my last one to the ironmongers for a roll of fallopian tube, Not come back yet and that was three years ago.......................

-- Regards,

John Stevenson Nottingham, England.

Visit the new Model Engineering adverts page at:-

How about a Sky hook to hang the Forman's coat on.

Tin of tartan paint. Some elbow grease.

Somewhat off topic, but I was in the hairdressers a couple months ago, and the boss sent the new assistant to the post office for a Hairdresser's license...

Radiator for a VW Beatle

I was the apprentice. I promptly asked my foreman if he was aware that the Beatle was air cooled. He called me a nasty name, and Araldited my lunchbox to my bench. I never did get even with him!

I've never seen a VW Beatle without a radiator.

Tom

Peter Scales wrote: > Can anyone improve on a bottle of bubbles for a spirit-level?

========= I was sent as an apprentice to the stores for a "Struggling Iron". Storeman gave me a large lump of cast iron, and after struggling back with it, was told it was too small, get a bigger one.

I wan't dumb - it only took me about half a dozen trips to wake up.

JW² =========

When I was a new apprentice in a garage in Sweden during world war 2,I was sent to a local chemist to buy a bottle of compression powder,the chemist said to tell the boss he was fresh out but would send some as soon as he got some in! Regards,Ron.

I worked with a toolmaker who admitted to being caught by this one when he was an apprentice. At least he had a fair excuse - he was setting up the weight-operated power feed on the Doall bandsaw, and was advised to go to the store for a big weight....

We had a Clever Bottom apprentice that we kept on trying to catch out. Sent repeatedly across the road to the ironmongers for -

1. A bucket of steam. Returned with a plastic bucket with a lid - charged to the firm's account - into which a quantity of boiling water had been poured. "Would water vapour do?" he inquired.

1. A long wait. He returned promptly with - charged to the firm's account - a cast iron sash window weight.

2. Four square feet of holes. He returned with four square feet of chicken wire, charged - you've guessed it - to the firm's account.

It's forty years ago, so I don't recall the ending but I think we gave up after the boss appeared waving an invoice & shouting a lot.

When in the motorcycle trade, I sent an enthusiastic newbie to Fowlers (THE Yamaha agents) for a bag of HT sparks for a Yamaha 1000. He was served by someone who responded that it was a very new machine on this market & they didn't have a book for it yet. I always wondered if both of them were daft or was it me I'd caught ....

Regards,

Kim Siddorn. Mechanical Engineers build weapons, Civil Engineers build targets.

No doubt you all know what a pit saw is or - given the clue of "tree" and "longsawing" will work it out ;o))

"What do you call the person who works below when pit sawing?"

"Apprentice."

Wait for it - there it is!

Regards,

Kim Siddorn.

Have you ever tried _buying_ one of these ?

The German-spec Beetle estate had a rather nice winter heater fitted, an Eberspacher or similar that ran independently from the fuel tank. As any Beetle driver knows, the standard heater is marginal to negligible.

Anyway, this thing has a bit of tin plumbing on it to warm up the inside air. It's important that it's not tired out and perforated, otherwise you're breathing fumes. The aforementioned tin thing is called the "radiator". It's not a heat exchanger - as any Beetler knows, those are the expensive things on the exhaust that wear out too quickly and don't work too well as heaters anyway.

Now you try going into a Beetle specialist and asking to buy a new radiator for it. You get some very sarcastic looks. I never did find one in the UK. Got one in Berlin no problem at all though,

It was three weeks before it wore off - I explored the wonders of New York for the first time with a hand that looked like one of Homer Simpsons fuel rods. After dark, people shaded their eyes from the shine. One or two of the darker dives had ultra-violet lighting. That really got it going. I had had some romantic expectations before we docked, but they begin to get suspicious if one never takes one's left hand from out of one's trouser pocket. Can't imagine what they thought I was doing with it.

Regards to all,

Dave Gibson