By Resident DIY Expert “Handy” Sandy Pontypandy
A henpecked husband from Lincoln, Timothy Language, has spent the last three years doing his best to make his house mouse proof. He lived with his wife, Ursula, who’s always been afraid of them. She saw a mouse in the kitchen a few weeks after moving in, and she was adamant that her new husband sorted the problem out. Now, three years later, he finally thought he had finished the job, but Ursula still wasn’t convinced, which led to an argument and him being left to sleep in his car. I spoke with the emotional Mr Language in a well known pub chain, on how he feels he’s wasted the last few years of his life.
TL: “Cheers for meeting up, pal. I’ll be all right after a few more of these. Have you got that £15 for today? It’s just that I’m down to my last twenty now.”
TDJJ: “We’ll sort that out in due course. Now, I can only imagine the frustration and hurt that you must be going through. How much would you say you’ve paid in materials for what you did in your house?”
TL: “Over 20 grand, easy. That’s even after stealing all those pallets from the local timber merchants. I tested everything to see how waterproof it all was, but she still wasn’t happy.”
TDJJ: “Mice are pretty small, though.”
TL: “That’s the problem. When I first started, I was pretty sure that there’d be no way of ever getting rid of mice in the house, proper tiny some of them. Our cat’s a lazy get, does nowt, no use to us. But after a while, I was thinking maybe this’d work, the wood and metal’s pretty solid, after a few layers or so. But of course, she had to find a few fucking gaps, didn’t she?”
TDJJ: “Have you estimated how much wood and metal you’ve used?”
TL: “I don’t know, I stopped counting a long time ago. Basically, the interior of the house is about 35% smaller now. We have to shimmy up and down the drainpipe from the bathroom in order to get in or out. It can get embarrassing when explaining to passers-by and cops about the situation.”
TDJJ: “I’ve read that you’ve had quite a lot of warnings from the police, the neighbours complaining about all the noise you were making through the night, putting everything together.”
TL: “Well, I worked away a lot, long hours, installing wardrobes and other large furniture in posh houses. I wouldn’t get home till about seven, then I had tea, shower, a bit of arguing. It would be about 10pm before I got started. But there was no other way around it. I have to travel all the way to Bristol to see my kid on Sundays as a legal requirement. And Saturday night is quiz night at the local. So, that’s how it had to be back then.”
TDJJ: “And then you lost your job.”
TL: “Well, it was a blessing in disguise really. I had started to actively not use every single bit of wood to make the wardrobes and that. Kept the other bits for myself, to bolster the defences at home. When the complaints started coming through about things falling apart, the gaffer suspected me and to be honest I’m a shit liar. But the sacking gave me a lot more time to sort the house out, though with no money coming in I had no choice but to start taking from local wholesalers.”
TDJJ: “Do you think that you’ll get back on speaking terms with your wife?”
TL: “I don’t know. I’ve been down this road before. My ex who lives in Bristol now had a phobia of pigeons. Scared shitless of them. Now, we had a really big back garden, and she had ordered me to come up with an idea in order to keep them out. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried balancing 35 square foot of chicken wire from a house roof to a couple of trees at the other end of the garden, but it’s a fucking nightmare!”
Timothy suddenly became aware of some cops entering the establishment. He flees out the back door, carefully taking his pint and bag of nuts with him. I explained to the cops that I was a local tradesman and didn’t know him that well. After a night in the cell I was set free, was told that Mr Language was still at large, accused of numerous thefts in the area and embezzlement.