Paint Problems? maybe not.

Mon.18.02.08. Over the weekend the boot lining has been constructed and sprayed. At the moment the colour is now satin black to match most of the chassis as well as the other body parts that will not be visible. Chris has continued to assemble the car carefully ensuring that front wings line up with the rear wings before tightening for the very last time. The bonnet and nosecone were added later which has completed the build of the remaining body panels. When secured, the extra nuts and bolts throughout the length of the wings have formed a rigid solid bond to the body tub to the engine panels. The moulded rubber strip offers a cushion but also an agreeable aesthetic supplement. Fitting the indicator and lighting brackets together with the appropriate lenses are further reminders that the car is evolving into a ‘real’ vehicle.

There is regrettably, germinating, a dissatisfaction with the ‘painting’ prowess of Nigel. Particularly the bonnet and nosecone have come under a great deal of scrutiny. Chris has rubbed away some areas in an attempt to buff the paintwork revealing the true surface texture and colour. Sadly I have previously witnessed this process of blame reinforced by doubt many times before. From originally being ‘a talented young man’ Nigel overnight has mutated into ‘an incompetent, crap bullshitter’ who has ‘not a friggin’ clue’. I foresee both panels being attacked with ‘wet 800’s’ to rectify the problem, I shall also be given the onerous task of returning to Nigel in the vain hope of explaining our reasons for the action instead of insisting that Chris should ‘leave well enough alone, to maybe trust a fellow artisan’.

The Bowling Green has had its day. Both the Preacher and Chris abandoned their beer pointedly walking out in protest on Friday evening. Steven suffered ‘runny bot’ most of Saturday blaming contaminated Deuchars. He was consequently forced to spend most of Sunday delivering his sermon with an antiseptic rubber ring attached to his arse. Higher prices, an indifferent approach to our patronage accompanied by clean fresh beer, handsome bar maids with black uniforms that conveniently expose plump rounded breasts  have encouraged the group to transfer ‘on block’ to The Millstone.

This has also resulted in a welcome return of John Lowton from his self imposed exile after his rude tiff with the management of the Bowlie. And so it was that the troops gathered in our new home in a lively refreshed mood. Doctor Dave returned during the afternoon from his Syrian expedition recounting tales of guesting with a local rock band: having paid £150 for a room in Dubai airport he spent the rest of the night with a fellow traveller: an energetic frauline. Order has been restored.

Everything is sweet, the car is becoming a long awaited reality, old faces have resurfaced, and the pub, coincidently, is situated at the top of my street. Cushty. 

Past labours rewarded.

Fri.15.02.08. The remaining offside front wing and the nose cone have been transported to the workshop, the former being temporarily fitted to complete the basic addition of all of the wings. The rear wings were later secured, potentially permanently, with negligible alterations to the dry build. The base to the boot lining has been cut, tested requiring only a simple assembly before being painted and ready to be added to the tub.

The development and progress in the week has been exceptional but has been testament to the endless groundwork that has preceded the rapid build. Having been marooned for almost three months which I suspect was mainly caused by fatigue; the project has had a remarkable transformation. The energy, enthusiasm, newly discovered belief have returned. For the first time for a very long time we both can see a wonderful conclusion that had temporarily been forgotten, perhaps misplaced. 

Very similar to the Oak, the Bowling Green attracts much of the desperately lost and recently found, painfully lonely or partially fulfilled, numbingly dull or surprisingly vibrant collection of retarded misfits, half baked semi enlightened street philosophers, the sanctimoniously righteous and the freakishly malevolent.

‘John with dogs’ is one such person. Behind him, in a previous existence a failed, bitter marriage, diverse jobs once a night club manager on the back of six years in the Merchant Navy, both of which enterprises I find quite extraordinary for such an unpersonable guy. His dishevelled exterior, oily hair pallid vacant expression invariably excludes him from most of the company.  He is, understandably, always is connected to his present life’s work; his two German Shepherd dogs. We all suspect that he is the only dog owner who has more fleas than his pets. He now finds himself teaching IT skills to empty, adolescent Bolton dropouts, possibly the most unrewarding job in existence, trudging home at night dragging his dogs to the pub for three pints of Tetley. 

Creosote Tommy, so called because of the colour of his dried brown leathery hands and face, is another fixture, wearing the same cheap shabby garments every day he boasts an eighties style Zapata moustache with sideburns to rival Elvis. Gently floating weightless in his own small planet permanently propping up the bar, he smiles wistfully yet randomly, his eyes darting around the room hoping to catch anyone’s attention. Totally devoid of speech capable only of grunting his order for beer he simultaneously leers at the bar maid’s tits whilst slowly retracting his neck between his shoulders, turtle fashion, until only the top of his grey bob cap can be seen. He actually refers to ‘us’ as the mad people.

Then there is senseless Stuart, the token Scouser, a lifetime Liverpool football fan yet managing absolutely no knowledge of the game. His comprehension and understanding of the club is solely reliant upon the information offered by the grubby columnist of the Sun newspaper. He often screams at the TV quoting the said journalist, mispronouncing or being over familiar with the players names and, naturally, with ‘rien’ appreciation of the opposition. All of this banal gibberish he comfortably achieves whilst nimbly rolling his fag spinning on his stool wishing for reassurance from the rest of the no hopers in the bar. Small in stature, tartan winter shirt, bottle glasses permanently carrying a ruck sack he reeks of loneliness destined only for a bleak future.

Excellent Progress.

Thurs14.02.08. During the earlier part of the week the body tub had been coaxed into the exact position being prepared to receive the wings together with the other body panels. Fuel, brake lines and other minor alterations have also been undertaken ensuring that they function unimpeded. The painted body panels have been ‘drip fed’ to Westmead throughout Tuesday and Thursday. The rear wings were initially assembled to assess that the line of the rear hub remained correct proportional to floor of the tub. Thankfully, fitting perfectly, this was encouraging for the rest of the build. The front nearside wing also slotted comfortably into position. The endless dry builds of the past mitigating the worthiness of the exercise. The excitement expressed by Chris at this sudden rapid progress was pleasing to witness.

The previous empty promises of ‘the project quickly coming together’ are now a reality. As equally important, it is a reminder of the quality of the craftsmanship that has been a constant during the last two years: the choice, when possible, of always acquiring the best components, the multitude of modifications which have genuinely improved the overall design and an understanding alongside awareness of ‘detail’ are the culmination of the rewards for unremitting toil and expenditure.

But, as per usual, not everything runs smoothly. Because the body tub has been placed on the chassis for the first time since constructing and locating the boot box, it has been discovered that floor of the boot sleeve is presently 2cms too narrow, the door is also too large and the inspection hatch is now situated incorrectly. The consequence is that a new base must be re-made to incorporate the current measurements. I must confess that the prospect of having to re-fashion yet another component would previously have resulted in my immediate melt down further testing my patience, but the exciting images of the week have ensured that this will be a task undertaken gladly: there will be no compromise!

The dashboard, with the clocks and gauges attached has had its first fitting. Chris has not been able to contain his admiration plus his grateful appreciation of the outstanding workmanship, the balanced simplicity of the design, the natural, harmonious beauty of the timber and the ‘artists’ thoughtful, sympathetic approach. Typically, the compatibility of the honey hue of the board against the deep green of the body is visual perfection which has, regrettably, rekindled the debate of ‘courage’ versus ‘long established safety’, ‘gold and green’ or ‘walnut and green?’

I gotta mate

                                     “I gotta mate”

“Yeah I gotta mate for everifin’. When I goes to work in Landan we stays in mi mates ‘otel. Opposite ‘im theres the best Chinese restraunt in the world wiv the best Indian next to it. I know bowf of the owners, they’re mates o’ mine. Daan the road is the pub. The landlady loves mi; she cooks mi san-day dinna everi week, roast beef, potatas, spring greens, carrots, pees, gravee, an’ everifin: she’s a goa en-all. Wot I does is see mi mate Arffa daan at Billingsgate an’ I gets all, and I mean all, the best prime scotch, top jerzees an sparagrass from fraance: takes em up t’ Caff, the landlady, an’ she serves em up for mi an’ mi mates in front of a log fire, lov-lee, an’ den I shags ‘ur, by way of sayin’ fanks. That’s wot mates is foa. 

When I gets mi noo merc I insures it foa £150 against tyre damage. When it’s nearly done I damiges the walls an’ gets em all changed. Normly they cost £287 but I gotta a mate at APS in Staandish oo’s willin’ to take a nifty fifty an’ right em off. I gets noo tyres an’ ee gets a bullseye; sweet eh? It’s like when I get mi car vallitid. I takes it to mi mate in Clayton street oo does it for firty an’ it comes back like braand noo. I ain’t nevva met im but ee’s a mate. Mind you, ee’s not as good as mi mate in Cobham who charges 300 quid. But, ee’s dooin all the footballers an’ all the rock stars of Landan an’ sometimes ‘ee charges ‘em as much as a bag o’sand. He’s makin’ a fortune but ee’s still a mate. Nevvamind, I know you just got a mowtta for 75 pawnds wiv istry an’ everifin but the last one I got was a one ownna, five fousand mile 325 BMW convertible, alloy 17 inch wheels, electric pack, levva, the lot, top o’ the range, it belonged to the missus of a mate a mine. I gave ‘ur a pair of Levis for it. Yeah, that’s right; I bloody nicked it foa a pair a Levis. She even giv mi a box to put it in. Naa, that wot I calls a result.

Mi 48 inch Plasma HD ready screens the same. I can stand in mi kitchen, knockin’ up a Thai, an still see the colour of ‘urr eyes as she goes daan on ‘im. I got everi pawn channel goin’, sports comin’ out o’ mi ears, everi movie that’s evva been made, animal shows where they kill an’ eat eachuvva, istri documenteriz wiv reel peepul smellin’ of shit an’ noos befoa its even ‘appened ; I got em all free from Sky. A mate o’ mine is the MD at Sky: ‘ee gave mi the total package, an’ the tele foa a bag a spuds. Earlia, I’d been to mi mate who owns Costco for some wine foa mi dinna. I parts wiv a pony for twelve bockles o’ the best. So mi an’ mi bird are secklin’ daan wiv the Thai an’ a 50 quid red, watchin’ Ingird an’ Kurt tanglin’ in the spar baff, an’ befoa we knows it we’re boaf naykid on mi hardwood flowa bangin’ away like monkeys in Africa. I didn’t even taste the fird bockle I was fackin’ elephants, but I do remember she was a crackin’ shag. You can’t beat good wine from a good mate. 

 ‘ee’s a proppa mate. Not like this facker oo’s tryin’ to do mi out of wot is mine. I breaks mi ankle on site, froo no fault o’ mi own. I could lose 200 laarge on lost contracts, 30 big ones froo loss of earnings an’ they’ve only offered 50 grand: I told ‘em straight, you must be jokin’, you must fink I’m a right mug, you cant. Anyway, mi lawyer, oo’s a mate o’mine, reckons I should ‘ang on for a ton because they were lax on safety an’ I got ‘em by the bollocks. He says it don’t matta that I was still pissed from the night befoa an’ tripped over mi own bag, they still gotta wedge up. Let’s all go daan the Strand, ave a banana, knees up mavva Brawn. Fackin’ cushty. 

Yeah, I got plenti o’ mates”.

Don't forget 'Cockney Nick's top Ten recipees from awl ova the World' for more gibberish to found at www.njparr.blogspot.com

The big lift

Tues.05.02.08. In the afternoon I collected the residual painted panels from Nigel. He had not ‘buffed’ them because the fibreglass on the surface of the bonnet had pitted producing in the tiny pinholes that had to be filled with paint leaving a blistered effect. These must be removed when the car has been assembled to complete the final finish.

Thurs.07.02.08. Having spent only the smallest amount of time on the project this week Chris has suddenly announced that Monday should be the ‘big lift’ day. Gathering the Preacher, sundry Highams and possibly Lewis, 1.00 o’clock is the allocated rendezvous for the momentous ‘tub and chassis’ amalgamation: just like two frogs in a swamp. David has also suggested that the same team should then travel to the farm to transfer the abandoned ‘pig pen’ into his yard. This will later be painted, properly tidied to become the new home for his large dogs. 

Mon.11.02.08. The troops began to muster around 1.00 in preparation for the monumental lift. The tub was first shifted out of the workshop to rest on the driveway until the chassis had been juggled into a central forward position enabling easy access to all areas of the vehicle when the final build was initiated. The Preacher, Lewis and Andrew gripped the front bumper bracket whilst David and I clutched the rear wheel arches and bottom sill. The majority of the weight was situated at the front end supporting the engine, 5 inch box section and suspension towers, shocks and springs. With David ‘counting in’ we lifted the entire running gear into the designated space whilst Chris rushed around in an attempt to position the axle stands under the appropriate chassis box section. The decision to employ the five bodies to manoeuvre the chassis was absolutely justified as the ‘big boys’ at the sharp end needed all their muscle to steady the operation. Although the car is relatively light the concentration of the running gear at the front required simple brute strength to gain sufficient height to facilitate the re-sighting of the stands. Similarly, the tub once carefully raised could be ‘walked in’ then slowly lowered onto the chassis cautiously dodging brake pipes, cables and brackets until all fixing points had been synchronised.

The complete exercise had taken less than 20 minutes but spirits were high as, once placed together, the tub and chassis immediately resembled a proper vehicle. The last occasion that we had both seen this phenomenon had been in a past life. The engine compartment combined with the ancillary components shimmered collectively as if designed meticulously by a sensitive, professional draughtsman. The deep green of the coachwork promised much being the perfect backcloth to the delightful sparkling properties of the engineering. Why this simple assembly had taken so long I shall always find baffling, but perhaps, just as a child innately possesses ‘reading readiness’ (the unfathomable precise occasion when a child conceptualises text and utterly embraces the written word) Chris decided that Monday 11.02.08 would be the ‘right time’ to bring the two elements together. 

Buoyed with the pleasures of the day we gathered at the Bowling Green to rejoice over a well earned pint but we were soon out shone by Cockney Mick who was about to deliver, his now famous, “I gotta a mate” speech, justly reminiscent of Martin Loofa Kings “I have a dream”.

Welcome 2008

                               Burlington Diary January 2008

Weds.02.01.08. Michael has finally started back to work. Thankfully he has returned from Mars with a blood change, a refreshed, reconfigured brain; he was also quite prepared to discuss the matter of the panels and tunnels. There appears to be no problem with the work. He will put some padding and pleats in the door panels similarly he will round off the tunnels to enhance the smooth shape.

                                Burlington Diary February 2008

Fri.01.02.08. I have returned from working in France; going back to the tenant’s perpetual ignorant oblivion to the faults around the house. So much so I spent the first three days repairing electric lights and fans, cleaning floors and pouring gallons of bleach down every conceivable orifice. But I managed to lay 16 metres of ‘beton’ preparing a patio area for later tiling together with, hopefully, the base to my workshop. I still have a constant war with the pigeons who settle at the bottom of my courtyard consequently after every departure they quickly repossess their roosts resulting in the need to shoot the ‘dirty bastards’ upon my return. I have erected a green curtain that now stretches the full width of the platform to form a barrier which ‘may’ dissuade them from entering the roof space. Fat chance.

There has been absolutely no progress on the car as Chris has been awaiting the many newly fabricated components plus the freshly ordered cosmetic parts that have been covering my dining room floor since December. I have found it increasingly difficult to deliver these ‘bits’ knowing that they would always become lost in the rest of the debris that litters the workshop. The body tub still remains separated from the chassis so until such time they become one unit the outstanding parts will reside with me. But, after speaking to Chris earlier in the morning it has been decided that we need to produce another ‘work schedule’ to encourage one last push in order to complete the project. 

The brighter news of the day arrived, thankfully when I visited Nigel to discover that he had painted the remaining bonnet and nose cone; after one final ‘buff’ they will be ready for collection on Tuesday morning. Manic Michael has not yet begun the door and tunnel panels as he has been ‘snowed under’ with work having only recently returned from a ‘mind refit’ on Planet Aspull. His communication skills have vastly improved as he now can complete a ‘five word’ sentence without a pause both convincingly, cheerfully and coherently.

Naturally, when visiting the Bowling Green in the evening there was a month of news to catch up with, particularly with regard to the ‘drain’ progress down at the Oak. In fact, typically, there has been absolutely no building work even attempted over the past four weeks, the latest forecast is that ‘appen’ they will begin next week. Cockney Mick travels to London tomorrow for 8am to ‘sawt awt a job’ returning at midday to straighten ap anuvva one, where all the walls are pissed ‘an arfta be sawted awt by usin’ tiles to measure the anguls, then ave five pints, slow cook an Indian ‘an knock ap a Thai. The ‘Doc’ has continued to be pragmatic about his lot but still finds time to become ‘pertinent and relevant’, unfortunately, because he has free reign to consume as much alcohol as he is able he now discharges breath that could kill a horse at ten paces. The foul odour can be likened to wild hogs reared on dead fish. To be trapped in a corner bombarded with rank humming gibberish is certainly not a pleasant option. Dedicatedly, Salty still controls his own small empire, Lewis has fallen foul of the law again, Knocker endeavours to bed every woman in Greater Manchester reeling them in by flashing his member at every opportunity, Lowtie remains in self exile, ‘The Awkward Squad’ have broken up once more, Mad John has been in permanent shutdown, Chris continues to constantly harass the bar staff about the poor quality lager, David keeps his own council and the Preacher preaches. So, not much change there!   

Run down to Christmas

Fri.21.12.07. Michael has returned from his holiday on Mars, suitably tanned with his personality disorder still intact. The workshop wasn’t open and so I was unable to retrieve the seats or leave the tunnel and door panels: “Monday would be a better day”. Taking the advice of Alan I have purchased a small tin of ‘T’ cut, thankfully the product seems to be perfect for restoring the shine to the aluminium. ‘Eufuckinreka’. 

Christmas and New Year activities

·      Sun.22.12.07. With Richie and Margo we went to a quiz at the ‘White Lion’ which is Alan and Tracy’s pub in Upholland. The Doc had been there for most of the day, typically he was in a pertinent and relevant mood having been barred from every room in the place because of his constant mythering of every person present in the pub. The clergy, his mother in law and even Alan’s brother got an ear bashing. Alan’s brother even left with Tracy claiming that if he wasn’t her father he would have been thrown out. But he still remains confident about the outcome of the work to rescue the Oak but typically his head is still in the sand. I fully expect that we shall not be in until March.

·      Mon.23.12.07. Christmas eve was not very eventful but at 6am on Christmas day we left for London to spend the rest of the week with Gemma, Paul and Sam.

·      Tues.24.12.07. Sat.28.12.07. We have had 4 wonderful days with Sam. We have watched eagerly as he rapidly increased his control over his facial mimicry and he is now smiling much more frequently. On Thursday he needed his first jabs which were administered by the local midwife. Sam’s painful reaction brought a tear to my eye as I felt a genuine natural concern for his welfare. I would hate to see him in any sort of pain in the future if this is a taste of what I am bound to feel. We returned on Saturday having had a sober responsible time enjoying our role as doting grandparents. 

·      Weds.25.12.07. Lowtie has barred himself from the Bowlie. The landlord had publicly approached him about a debt that his son Andrew had incurred whilst renting a room in the pub. His wife Sheila left immediately but Lowtie remained to tear a strip off the hapless, tactless landlord, he has subsequently vowed never to cross the door again. Not like most people john always means what he says. He does not want to affect our ‘association’ with the pub but solidarity was mentioned by Fat Billy Green, the ‘ex’ union lawyer.

·      Sun.30.12.07. We arrived late to the Bowling Green to find the ‘Doc’ continuing being a top mytherer from the previous Sunday. Mad John was the first to suffer followed by Jimmy the Axe then finally, Paul Higham. “There are good ‘uns and bad ‘uns and they know who they are, just as there are bastards and arseholes, and they know who they are”. Doctor Dave was also in with Pirnil, his Danish girlfriend, another fuckin’ mytherer, but she is in a class of her own.

·      Mon.31.12.07. New Years Eve. We escaped after Pirnil had asked very personal questions to every one in the pub. Chris had the third degree about his non marriage to Marion, (not even his best friend asks him such questions), his relationship with his daughter, son in law and their children, Jimmy the axe copped for “do you intend marrying the the young lady that you with, treating her properly on top of looking after her. I also had to run the gauntlet about a remark I made 2 years ago in France about marriage, Dave and herself. By eight o clock I had had enough leaving still none the wiser.

·      Tues.01.01.08. News Years day was shite 

In search of Michael.

Tues.18.12.07. For the last few days I have been attempting to clean and polish the aluminium scuttle plus the engine floor panels. A coarse G4 rubbing compound was first applied to each panel using a circular rotational movement with a textured cloth: water can be used, periodically, as an additional lubricant to remove any blemishes or scratches.  Unfortunately, the metal has an unusual reaction to the rubbing compound in that, a residue of fine black powder is produced as the surface is cleaned. Removing this deposit has proved to be infuriatingly tricky. The ‘film’ that has subsequently formed settles in the surface imperfections dulling the metal causing difficulties when attempting to produce a high gloss finish. There has got to be a simpler way to complete this task?

After several visits to Aspull in search of ‘Manic Michael’ I eventually made contact with a neighbour who didn’t appear to know whether or not he was ‘away’ for a few days. The wrinkled old relic that I attempted to communicate with was very vague, definitely reluctant to offer any information. Upon my return the old gent, again, dropped from the sky but on this occasion he managed to inform me that Michael will return on Thursday. “From his holidays? Oh, perhaps he’s been to a show? Or maybe he is just working away?” Neither of my suggestions prompted any response so I would guess that he in fact has been visiting his relatives on Mars for a pre-Christmas lunch leaving his father behind to guard his rubber room. On reflection the old guy not only had more than a passing physical resemblance to Michael but he also displayed identical mannerisms; he was also able to compute ‘shut down’ to then remerge smiling with the smug satisfaction that only a toilet movement usually provides unwillingly replying with monosyllabic grunts. Aspull, after all, is the land of six toes. 

Weds.19.12.07. Alan of Catterall and Wood suggests that rubbing any sort of compound on the aluminium will expose the surface which would potentially create more problems, he recommends that once cleaned and polished it will be essential to cover the panels with some kind of sealant or lacquer as the metal will immediately oxidise forming a grey dusty layer that can be very difficult to eradicate. Having spent the last two days rubbing and polishing this information wasn’t the best news, but it is another typical reminder of wasting time instead of researching a task before attempting it. 

Another problem with Michael

Fri.14.12.07. Over the past few days the instruments along with the gauges have been partially assembled in the dash. Everything appears to fit correctly, after a few minor alterations, but the main concern is the hole that has been drilled to take the over drive switch. The depth of the dash together with the rear section of the switch has proved difficult to reconcile. A rectangular piece could be cut from the rear to accommodate the component but this would create a weakness in the timber. A larger hole could be cut to take an additional gauge, perhaps ‘vacuum’, or a badge could simply conceal the hole.

Using a piano hinge the boot lid has been temporarily fastened to the boot lining. The method of closure and the final finish still need to be explored. The aluminium scuttle panel in addition to the floor sections need to be cleaned then polished which can be achieved by using a cutting compound.

After several visits to Michael, to find his gates locked, seemingly not at home, I have been unable to deliver the internal panels and tunnels to be trimmed. I just hope that he has not ‘gone bust’ but moreover, fucked off with the seats. Having paid him for the pair, but not collected them I have broken the golden rule of ‘if you have paid for goods or services then take it with you, otherwise you are likely to be stiffed’. 

Sun.16.12.07. The ‘Doc’ entered the vault in triumphant mood on Friday night. The ‘Loss Adjuster’, the person solely responsible for the validity and value of the insurance claim, had visited the Oak during the morning to inspect all the damage for himself. The landlord had evidently presented his claim profitably; it appears that he will be entitled to everything he has requested. The cellar will be totally refurbished, the ground floor carpets replaced completely, the drains will be repaired where necessary and a very favourable settlement for ‘loss of earnings’ established. Congratulations flowed generously from all his loyal customers, comments gushing from the assembled crowd. “Good on you” from Lowtie, “Well done, mate” from Chris, “I’m glad it’s worked out for you” from the Preacher; there was even a painted on smile from Salty. It took only cutting observation from Jimmy the Axe which really summed up the perilous nature of any negotiation with the ‘Doc’. “How come you didn’t fuck it up? decline any financial assistance, refuse any help what’s so ever, throw him out of the pub, shoot yourself in the foot, shit in your own nest? like you normally do”. “Simple, June was at the meeting”. The ‘Doc’ is now looking forward to sitting on his arse for the next three weeks, earning possibly more money than he did last year for not even lifting a finger. There will be no pissheads to evict on ‘mad Friday’, no crazed ‘office do’s’, no moronic staff to pay, no extra stock that may or may not be consumed, no Christmas dinner to prepare for his extended family and, more significantly, he will be able to enjoy a festive holiday for the first time in 25years.

Cockney Mick has broken his leg down in Landan on a job. Compowned fracture that ‘ee just popped back in. ‘ee brok ‘is uffa too but was able to push the bones back in an’ tape ‘em up wive gaffa tape. Paramedics fought ‘ee was brilliant to self medicate.