Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Sunday, 30 December 2018


One day I was out at the new refinery they were putting up north of Fort Saskratchmebum - the NWR. The clientele I worked with was a little rough around the edges. The boys were framing in the structure that would eventually hold a distillation vessel or something and it must a been about 200 ft. high. The ironworkers were up there doing their thing and having coffee while I yakked with the foreman below. We were chatting when my hard hat went 'SPAK!!!' and nearly fell off my noggin. 

'WTF?' I said, and took it off to see what hit me. Shit happens on job sites and rivets, bolts and other stuff routinely fall from heights on those below. Sometimes it's serious. But this time, all it was that hit my lid was a great, big soupy loogey. I looked up at the cackling morons above who had just gobbed on me from heights above. "Ah jeez - hey! You guys are fuggin animals! I just got hit from the spray on that one!" the foreman yelled. "Sorry about that, Glen - I am going to write those two assholes up as soon as we're done here... I'd fire them, but with the shortage of tradesmen right now, you see what kind a chit I have to put up with."

I wiped my lid off on the back of a passing steamfitter and told the foreman to think nothing of it. I made a rude joke about being allowed to carry firearms on site but my request was turned down. Ironworkers aren't the brightest of tradesmen, and allowances have to be made when dealing with them.

Ironworkers: yes, they do stuff like this. 
It's my scientific theory they evolved from a hominid/seagull hybrid
species during The Plasterscene

No comments:

Post a Comment