Kettles on!

It was some years ago and in Manchester where I was a student at the art college.

I had gone to bed and it must have been about 2 in the morning when I was awoken by the most enormous sound of the crashing metal, as a car outside came to a sticky end.It was one of those moments when you cannot remember jumping out of bed as it was done almost automatically.

Rushing to the front door my flatmate and I peered into the street to see the remains of the car just a few yards away.Small pieces of the vehicle were still rolling off it as we stared at the wreckage. It was followed by almost complete silence, save for the sound of steam coming from a fractured radiator.

Then a door opposite opened and a portly gentleman had come to the door encased in dressing gown tied firmly in place under the nipples.

People had gathered around the vehicle to help the unfortunate driver, there was low sound of concern and persons asking if an ambulance had been summoned, when portly neighbour boomed out ” KETTLE’S ON!”

My flatmate looked at me and we came to the conclusion that there was little we could do to help as all available help was at hand and that the unfortunate victim would soon be imbibing our neighbour’s tea and  would be cured of any injuries sustained in the accident, plus any diseases that he had before.

Let it pour!

The cure-all.
The cure-all.

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