valorous idylls chapter 22

Home Is The Hero By Which Of Course I Mean Me A Chapter Also Known As Heelers Endorses The Hoover Corporation

The house is dark.
I switch on the lights.
The neighbours have been in.
There is a new fridge, a new microwave oven, a new electric heater, and in the corner of the sitting room a brand new limb of satan, by which I mean a television set.
On the window sill beside the television is a paid up television licence.
The television licence is the documentary attestation of a compulsory tax Irish people are forced to pay if they wish to own a television.
And apparently also, as in my case, if they don't wish to own a television.
The tax is used by the monopoly State broadcaster RTE for its incitement to hatred activities (documentaries they call em) and to debauch the peasantry.
Yes.
So I'm now using my neighbours money to finance RTE's culture war against the Catholic Church.
Hoo baby.
The forces of darkness would have to be some shower of humourless boors not to get a wry chuckle out of that one.
You know folks, I've spent a lifetime trying to escape television.
Now it looks like TVs are actually pursuing me.
Farmer Jones arrives.
"Joanna got you all this stuff," he explains. "She was in with her Dyson cleaning up too. You should have heard what she called you. The Dyson kept getting blocked with dog hairs. Every time it would seize up. she'd curse you from a height. It was a howl. Funniest thing I ever saw."
The noble Heelers nods sagely.
"A lot of people buy vacuum cleaners for style," I muse. "They look great with their Dysons. It's like an Oscar De La Renta  handbag accessory. You could bring a Dyson to an Oscar ceremony and everyone would coo about how great it looks. But if you actually need to clean a really messy house, you're better off with a hoover. Never send a Dyson to do a hoover's work. The Dysons tend to panic when the going gets tough."
And so I end my chapter.