As so little else has happened in the world this week, I thought I would tell you that the future is cordless.
It is something to do with the price of metals in the battery cells falling, but it is now going to be more economical to get rid of the cable.
Don’t do that now by cutting the wire. I don’t want to end up in court with someone saying my house went on fire and my cat was electrocuted because the defendant told me in his newspaper column to cut the cable. No.
You should switch to battery power instead, preferably by upgrading to a cordless model.
A certain brand of cordless vacuum cleaner is rapidly coming down in price and is expected to be available for Black Friday, which is the 27th of this month.
It is now £349 and is about to have £150 knocked off. You know the ones – named after big fish with variants such as bull and great white. No, not types of drinks.
I mean creatures – like thresher and hammerhead. And no, it’s nothing to do with heavy metal and the late Lemmy. That was Motorhead.
The daughter of this house has the brand in question – and she paid full price. It is, according to her, one almighty sucker.
At this point I thought she was dissing her boyfriend and I told her that there were plenty other fish in the sea.
“No, dad,” she said. “With my two dogs and a boyfriend to clean up after, there is only one type of fish that will keep this house spotless. A Shark.” It took me a while to get that too. That’s the make. See?
One problem is that all battery-powered gadgets need to take a rest to recharge. I’m a bit like that. At 11pm each night, yawning is my body’s way of saying “5% of battery remaining”. Technology makes life easier but sometimes it has its challenges.
Don’t ask me to do anything technological – even involving simple maintenance tasks such as batteries. All I had to do was insert a battery into a mouse. That was when I was kicked out of that pet shop.
I have to be grown up about my own shortcomings. Which reminds me that Philadelphia’s mayor has told Donald Trump to change his clothes. I’d almost forgotten about that election thing over there.
Maybe it should have had more media coverage. Mayor Jim Kenney wants Mr T to deal with his seemingly insurmountable election defeat.
He said: “What the president needs to do, frankly, is put his big boy pants on.”
What? Ah, in America, clothes have different names. In the US, a waistcoat is a vest, a dressing gown is a bathrobe and trousers are pants. Pants are panties, a zip is a zipper, a peg is a clothes pin and a polo is a turtleneck.
And a candidate who doesn’t win an election is always a loser, and Mr T suggested if he didn’t win he would perhaps leave the country and move overseas – possibly to one of the nicer parts of Scotland.
So that rules out… I’d better not say, because when the restrictions are over, I have promised Mrs X a trip round Alba to see the places she hasn’t been over on that misty place we can just see through the mist from Tiumpan Head.
The mainland. And we don’t need any more unpleasantness over there. I get enough grief from the Hearachs when I venture over the Clisham.
Batteries are such a big part of life now. They weren’t always, though.
You can just imagine the conversation between Batman and Robin.
Robin says: “Holy creamola, Batman. The batmobile is making a clicking sound and it just won’t start.”
Batman has a think about what to do. He gets on the batphone but it is the weekend. There is no reply from the garage.
So he says: “OK, Robin. Check the battery.” And Robin replies: “What’s a tery?”
A couple from the west side of Lewis tell the story of when the two of them were in church one Sunday morning a while back.
Murdo leans over to his wife and says: “Excuse me, Mhairi, I shouldn’t have had those beans for breakfast. I am now having a wee wind problem. Thankfully, it’s silent. What should I do?”
Mairi looks at him in a disgusted way and says: “The first thing you should do is change your hearing aid battery.”
