A Warrigal Mirriyuula masterpiece from the Pig-Tel stable of fine consumer products.
I was talkin’ t’ m’ mate Australia the other day. Oz was saying that he’s got a real problem at his house. He told me that some years ago, when he’d built the beaut new house on the hill, he got a real smooth green leather suite for the main room and for years it gave good service; but just recently it seems t’ have developed a problem.
Oz can’t quite work out what’s happened.
Now, Oz is a good bloke, not a Nobel Laureate, but he’s no fool; he works hard, looks after his family, loves his wife and kids, and he was real proud of his place and the way him and the family had set the joint up.
Then came this problem.
Oz looked real worried and I felt for the poor bastard. I mean, what can have gone so wrong to so banjax the place that apparently, as he told me, no-one wants to visit anymore.
“What’s wrong Oz?” I asked, gettin’ a bit concerned for a bloke who’s been a best mate since we were just tackers.
I tell ya Waz, I don’t know how, but there’s shit all over me green leather suite and I just can’t work out how it got there and how to get it off.
Now this was something I could get my teeth into. We had a leather suite at work and we had a similar problem a while back. I asked him had he tried Dubbin leather soap. Yeah, he’d done that. No good. What about professional cleaners. Maybe they could scrape the shit off and deodorise the suite. He said he’d tried a few times in the last few years but the problem just won’t go away.
“So have you determined where the shit is coming from.”
“It all seems to be coming from the one place but I can’t work out how it gets in. And there’s coal dust all through the shit, everywhere! The old place is a mess!”
“Look ya could try this.”
I hauled my bag up off the floor and pulled out a few different products that might help poor Oz get the shit of his green leather.
Oz seemed surprised that I had the bag with me, and even more surprised that the few simple products I had in the bag were going to be all he needed.
I always carry this bag with me. You’d be surprised how often you come across shit that you need to clean up.
So any way, I set the products up and started to instruct Oz on their use.
I told Oz the first thing he’d have to do was to have a real good think about the shit, work out just what the shit had been doing, and how it was managing to stick to the green leather for so long. I told him the first thing he should do is spray the whole area in the main room with some anti-static. I recommended the use of “Anti-Fas”. A product guaranteed to remove all RW static from any surface it is applied to. Its real simple Oz, the less RW static in the room, the less the shit will be able to stick. But that’s not all. Once you’ve sprayed the “Anti-Fas” you’re going to have to apply a little “Native Intelligence”. That’s what this cream is for. I showed Oz the tube. You rub it into your hands and it strengthens your grip and the resolve to get that shit moving. It’s made by a greek bloke called Diogenes, apparently been doing good work for yonks.
But the most important product is this acid. Once you’ve sprayed the “Anti-Fas, applied the “Native Intelligence”, you’re set to put the acid on the shit. But you’ve got to be real careful Oz. Sometimes when you put the acid on the shits they’ll gang together, creating a whole load of shit in one place that’s real hard to get rid of, but if you keep dripping the acid on those shits I reckon by about March at the earliest, but maybe not until May, your shit problem may well have disappeared.
Ya think so Waz? I dunno how long I can stand it. Gee I hope you’re right.
I gave him my bag full of anti-fouling products and off he went happy as a pig in sh…., no that’s not right, perhaps he was off like a chicken into hot po…., no that’s not right either. Well he left anyway; perhaps not convinced that my antifouling tutorial would do the job, but I could see him rubbing in a bit of the “Native Intelligence” as he walked across the carpark.
“Bugger! I forgot to give him the tin of “Good Will”. Ah well, no matter. Oz is a good bloke, filled up to pussy’s bow with good will. He’ll move that shit. In fact I’m thinking of a working bee round at his place. I reckon if we all pull together that shit’s got no-where to go but out on its stinking ear.
Won’t that feel good?