Hamish McShanks

Hamish McShanks Secret Diary – w/e 11^th September 05

Greetings readers, I’m going to bore you with a brief potted history of a common domestic household appliance. Please bear with me, my reasons for doing so will hopefully become apparent.

The vacuum cleaner; Invented 1901 by Hubert Cecil Booth, the ‘Mark 1’ was about the size of a milk float. So big in fact it had to be horse drawn to a location outside the property. Once secured in place a noisy petrol engine would be sparked up and four to six burly men would start feeding large hoses in through your front window. It was very efficient at removing dirt, small pieces of furniture and any particularly lethargic pets that happened to get in the way. Not the most convenient you’ll agree. Things progressed though, William Henry Hoover produced the first ‘bag on a stick’ cleaner in 1908 which was a welcome improvement on the old horse drawn milk float and of course allowed us to create the word ‘hoovering’. A marked improvement on ‘Huberting’.

Since then we’ve had cyclone cleaners, bagged, filtered, dual bagged, bagless, cylinder cleaners, upright cleaners and tiny li’ll miniature cleaners and latest of all ‘balls’ (thanks again Mr Dyson). Normally our vacuums are electrically powered but some pretty wacky solar, wind and nuclear powered prototypes have been proposed. All in all quite a variety for something that basically sucks up dirt. You would imagine such a common household appliance would be fairly straightforward to purchase wouldn’t you?

Now let me bring you back to the present day, or more correctly last Monday. Picture the scene: A large electrical retail outlet on the outskirts of Stirling. Mr & Mrs Shanks have been perusing the vacuum cleaners on display for a couple of minutes. It’s been quite pleasant to date. We haven’t had to fend off the usual greasy haired youth smarming ‘Can I help you sir’ the second our feet crossed the threshold. Neither have we been completely ignored while the same greasy haired youth stands idly bogey mining oblivious to the shop full of irate customers. No in fact on this occasion the staff had clearly been trained enough to let you actually look at their wares before going in for the kill.

Enter salesman stage left. ‘Can I help you Madam?’ (he wasn’t talking to me before you start) ‘Yes I’m interested in this upright Hoover’ replied Mrs S. HHe glanced down at the model in question. It was a Hoover Gsi 9000 quantum turbo easy glide with patented volcanic suction, a wide array of click on tools and beautifully presented in shades of lilac and cream (or so it said on the label) Last one in the shop reduced to £99 what a bargain! Not however, according to our salesperson.

Alarm bells were ringing before he even started talking. He started making that awful sucking noise you get when you inhale sharply through your teeth ‘ffffffff Oooooh I wouldn’t sell you that Hoover even if I could’ we both looked at each other incredulously ‘What!’, ‘Weeeel even if I had the box for it I wouldn’t give it to you’, ‘Why?’, ‘it’s ex-display you see’ (we didn’t) ‘what if a wheel falls off when you take it home? you’ll be back in a flash’

I looked at him askance ‘So why is it on display then? With a big red reduced sticker on it and Hurry last one in stock?’’ He was about to reply but I was on a roll ‘You like taunting your customers do you? Hmmm? Hmmm? Think it’s a laugh do you?’ ‘Well sir-’, ‘Ooooh I understand it’s past it’s sell by date is it? Throw out all your display stuff do you? Hmmm? Should I rake in the skip for it tomorrow’ I bellowed stabbing a finger into his chest.

As is often the case when I lose the napper my baldy head turns an angry crimson. This provided a sharp contrast to the sales assistants now ashen face. A light sheen of spittle had settled on his zit covered cheeks and his adams apple was bobbing wildly as he frantically backed away from my wagging finger. Meanwhile Mrs Shanks was quietly shaking her head as she pulled me towards the exit ‘let’s try Curry’s shall we’

Curry’s may well have had a fine selection of vacuum cleaners but we’ll never know. Our visit was in always in danger of being cut short from the second my big toe crossed the threshold of the shop. Attack was instant ‘Can I help you sir?’, ‘I-‘, ‘Can I interest you in our apparently interest free scheme? buy everything in the shop right now and pay absolutely fuck all, that’s right fuck all for nine months’ (Until you forget about it and then get reamed in nine months time at 150% apr and you realise you secured the purchase on your house, which is now Currys!) ‘Look I-‘, ‘Perhaps Sir would like our extended warranty scheme’, ‘Please be quiet’, ‘this product only comes with a 30 second guarantee and frankly that isn’t worth the paper it’s written on and the cleaner itself is a bag of sh-‘, ‘STOP TALKING!’

He was slightly taken aback at my outburst but I believe his desperation to make a sale made him bite his lip. ‘Yes you can help me’ I said rolling up my sleeve and removing my watch ‘I will buy this very expensive vacuum cleaner if you will do one thing for me’, ‘certainly sir, anything’, ‘could you walk to the back of the shop please’ uncertainly he complied ‘give me a shout when your as far back as you can go’ I shouted after him. Steadying myself in a nice wide stance I extended my right arm in front of me at head height ‘I’m ready Sir’ came a faint voice from the store room

‘Good now I’d like you to run as fast as possible into my fist’ there was a rather long silence ‘sorry Sir?’, ‘having trouble with the concept are we?’, ‘No I-‘, ‘c’mon it’s very straight forward, I want you to sprint down the shop as fast as your spindly little legs will carry you and plant your spotty ugly pointless lying coupon on to my clenched fist’ There was another satellite delay ‘I’d rather not’ he whimpered ‘Really really’ I replied in a rising hysterical voice ‘Well I’d rather not be accosted by a pre-pubescent pleb whose baws have barely dropped the second I step in the door’ I roared ‘but that didn’t stop you did it sonny!’, ‘please leave me alone’

‘What’s wrong don’t you want the sale now! Isn’t my money good enough’ I bellowed throwing the contents of my wallet in the air ‘C’mon it’s only pain ye wee baaaastard!’ The other sales assistant was feverishly dialling on the phone as I felt a sharp tug on my sleeve ‘Come along dear I think Comet have a sale on’

Behind every mad man is a sane woman (thank goodness)

Doei