Monday, 28 July 2014

Oh, for Crying Out Loud...Shed of the Year, my hairy rear end!

Sorry but I really must register an objection.  I know I'm English but, I'm not that bloody English: no-one's that bloody English!

So, what is all this 'Shed of the Year' nonsense on the telly?  'Shed of the Year'?  No, no, no - the comparative value (that sounds about brainily right) of  sheds is not a subject for a whole set of programmes on the public teevers.

Sheds!  Anyhow, I was flicking through the channels and it said: 'And up next, it's Shed of the Year.'  So I'm like - what?  No, no, surely I misheard.  But nope, it really was a programme about the sheds inc. their aesthetic value, for heaven's sake.

So, I turned it over and just thought some 'harumphhh' type thoughts over the old gin and tonic.  That night I only ruddy well ended up dreaming about bloody sheds: getting locked in a shed, the disgraceful old Josef Fritzel-esque number that my brother in law built etc etc.

Next morning, I tried to stop myself...but I'm only human, so I googled it and voila:


2013 Shed of the Year.

And then it occurred to me: I'd just had a very nasty brush with irony.

Now, of course, I'm totally into Shed of the Year...

Will let you know which dreadful old pile wins, sigh...

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