The Arclid Table-saw Massacre

The things you have to do to ensure you've got a full team for the monthly pub-quiz at "The Poachers". You'd think it would be simple enough; 'phone everyone during Sunday afternoon to check that they're available, loaf around for the rest of the day, have some tea, then stagger down to the pub. As the man in the banking advert says, "It doesn't work like that".

It started well enough. Blight-of-my-life and I had got the evening clear, so I 'phoned Chemical Al, and after the usual answering machine nonsense, he rang back to confirm he was up for it. Then I rang Reallyfatbloke.

"Sorry mate" he says, "I can't make it. I've bought a table-saw on ebay, and I'm collecting it this evening. It's in Holmes Chapel and I can't pick it up until six-thirty."

I thought about this, and reckoned that there should be sufficient time to get the saw and still get to the pub on time, so decided that if I offered to help fetch it, he'd have no excuse to duck out of the quiz.

I wasn't too sure how big this saw was likely to be, but I doubted whether it would fit in his car, and suggested that it might be easier to collect it in my vehicle. After giving it some thought , he agreed, and so shortly before six, we clambered into The Tractor and set off. 

Half an hour later, we were sitting in a lay-by in Holmes Chapel waiting for the seller to arrive.

"Why aren't we collecting it from his house? I asked. "It seems a bit dodgy."

"The saw's at his workshop, which is a couple of miles outside the town."

"Err... Right" I said, doubtfully.

After a while the chap rolled up in his van, and we tagged on behind him as he led us out of town. 

A couple of miles later, I was starting to wonder if I'd been over-optimistic in my estimate of how long the operation would take.

"How far out of town did he say it was?"

"He said it's in Arclid. We're nearly there now."

"Uh-huh"

"Of course it could be a horrible scam. He's luring us out to some secluded clearing in the countryside. We'll be led into a shed, where his hideously deranged relatives are waiting. Their heartless laughter will greet us as he clubs us over the head."

"Hey, this isn't helpful... and look, he's indicating left; he's taking us down that lane"

"Hmm. I don't fancy regaining consciousness to hear 'Heh,Heh, Heh... the cabaret's arrived', and discovering that we're both wearing matching gimp masks."

"Look, this lane's getting even narrower... Where is he going?"

"I hope it's not to the Arclid table-saw massacre."

"Me neither. I don't fancy being remembered as a victim of the Arclid table-saw murderer"

"I guess not. Ah, I think we're here"

We'd reached a secluded farm.

After all the paranoia it was all perfectly benign. The guy was charming, and after a bit of a chat and a quick demonstration of the saw, we managed to fit it into the back of the vehicle. It was a bit of a squeeze, and I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have gone in RFB's car. Even given the sensible size and shape of the Land Rover Defender, we had to unscrew a couple of bits of the saw so it would fit through the door. 

Time was getting on, so we didn't hang about for too long. Soon we were back on the road , and threading our way through the lanes back to civilization. 

If getting the saw into The Tractor was tricky, getting it into RFB's shed was bloody nearly impossible. The shed is semi-subterranean, and the doorway is effectively in the roof. The door is also quite small; actually, the door is smaller than the table-saw. It was only brute force and advanced topology that enabled us to persuade it to fit through.

My suggestion to RFB is that the first thing he does with his new acquisition is make a bigger door for the shed.

Did we get to the pub-quiz?

Yes we did. Although it was touch and go.

Did we win?

No. We scraped fourth place.

But at least we didn't get murdered, so it was a pretty good day.