Today, I’ve mainly been setting my clothes on fire

Skyhook · Today, I’ve mainly been setting my clothes on fire

I’d like to say it’s down to it being the 5th of November and my impeccable comic timing and my willingness to go that extra mile for a jape, but in all honesty this situation occurred because I can be a right divot sometimes.

I have a heater under one of my desks in the office. Originally it was out in the open but my extension leads kept getting nicked by the office fairies during the night and it now only reaches the wall socket if I put it under the desk. It’s easy to forget it’s there – oh, it warms the area eventually, but stand close to it and it feels about as effective at generating heat as a row of fifty ants stamping their feet, huffing and blowing on their hands. And we all know how that feels.

Get very close however, say touching for example, and bizarrely it turns into the sort of thing that normally has Red Adair cancelling the newspapers and wetting the tip of his expenses claim pen.

Many a time I push my chair away, walk away from my desk then have to scuttle back when I remember to make sure it, and my jacket that usually hangs off the back of it, is not touching The World’s Hottest Coldest HeaterTM.

Business as usual today; a project is going the precise Oxford English Dictionary definition of ‘tits up’. Luckily it isn’t one on which I was the designer, unluckily it is one I’m trying to engineer to cocking work. So, blokey who passed this project to me when he reached his ceiling of competence is at my desk to ask how it’s going. I stand up so I can fully vocalise and express myself through the medium of gesticulation and quaint Anglo-Saxon terms of affection.

We become aware, slowly, of a rather pervasive smell. Normally this is down to the New Boy in the corner and his on-going troublesome bowel difficulties, but this is even worse. Nostradamus-like, I suddenly had an inkling of a clue about what was causing the nasal cacophony, which gave me a bit of a dilemma.

On the one hand I wanted to rescue my jacket, but on the other hand I couldn’t work out a way to save male dignity and still say “excuse me, I need to break into this conversation and sort out a very silly thing that I have just done”.

In the end the dilemma was solved by the mounting and indeed rising amount of smoke surrounding us.

“Is that your jacket on fire?” asked blokey, showing the trademark attention to detail and problem solving nous that got his project into the seven shades of shite it’s currently in in the first place.

“Why yes, it is”, said I. “Thank you, Sherlock”.

Burning leather makes the most amazing nostril coating smell, I couldn’t help note as I grabbed my jacket and frantically beat at the smoking sleeve in a nonchalant not-frantically-beating-the-smoking-sleeve-of-an-expensive-leather-jacket kinda way.

“Would you mind excusing me for a second?” I said, walking away, jacket smoking like a comedy magic effect, heading for the toilet and the nearest tap.

I think I pulled it off you know, just about. Walking down the corridor, magic jacket at arms length. I think my expression was just right, if I may flatter myself, a look of resigned confusion – “What? You’ve never seen a man walking to the toilets with his jacket on fire before?” I may have even rolled my eyes, but I am prepared to admit that was over egging the pudding a bit.

The jacket, sadly is muldered. It is twatted beyond repair. The leather is crinkled more than Keef Richards’ face. Iggy Pop would consider it looks a bit rough. Leslie Ash, however, would probably say it still had a bit of life left in it.

I loved that jacket. Being a man of…ahem…compact stature… jacket shopping can be a trial. But this one…I saw it… loved the style…and in a fairytale fashion it fitted me when I finally tried it on. I say finally as it was the hundred-and-thirty-fourth jacket I’d tried on that week, and I’d given up hope that I’d ever find a garment that suited my (short) ass to the (very close) ground. I was Cinderella going to the ball, but with fewer pumpkins.

Tomorrow is jacket shopping day, then.

If you are a clothing shop assistant in Nottingham or Meadowhall I apologise in advance if you are faced with a strangely attractive fella tomorrow ranting at the mirror that “It makes me look like a fooking Oompa-Loompa!” and questioning you on the fire retardant properties of the item in question.

Apex clipper · Re: Today, I’ve mainly been setting my clothes on fire

DaveGibson

Sounds like your Health 'n Safety bods need a rocket. Obviously nobody had done a risk assessment as to whether a fire should be allowed in the office, never mind the absence of any reported smoke alarms, which should surely have detected the smoke before your own nostrils.

(I'm anticipating Alan's response here.)

Skyhook

gonnabuildabuggy

simonp

Doesn't an office environment have to be a minimum of 16°C. If it's colder than that I'm sure you're within your rights to down pencils until it's sorted.

Blarno

There is a certain cachet to be earned from wearing a garment that is on fire, speeds up the reflexes somewhat. In my youth (15, actually), I discovered the joys of lighting my farts. I'm easily amused, you see. All was going well until I lit a particularly potent rib-rattler whilst wearing a scruffy wooly jumper. The flames caught the straggly threads and went up like a flash, sending me comically toppling off my chair, much to the amusement of my friends. Luckily, the jumper survived to see another day and I have a beautiful story to relate to new people I meet.

Dr. Hfuhruhurr

Not just an amusing story, Skyhook, but very amusingly written. Brysonesque, even ...

Pkh72

This reminds me of an old chap that used to work at the old place for a while, he used to go outside to smoke his pipe and when he'd done used to put it in the pocket of his tweed jacket and hang it up.
One day he hadn't extinguished his pipe properly and after a couple of minutes, in all senses of the phrase, he quite literally had a smoking jacket.

Aaah memories........

PG

You should sue your employer for the cost of the jacket. Clearly, you only set fire to it as their heating is inadequate. It was entirely not your fault.

It worked once for a colleague who caught his tie in the shredding machine and got a new tie out of it.

Although in both cases I suspect operator error may have been the real cause....

Big TC

scamper

Leather jacket? With work shirt and tie combo? I have visions of the young DC off Ashes to Ashes.

Skyhook

Frank Bullitt

Gooner

Skyhook

Cheeky gits.

No, I will not be shopping in Mothercare.

A leather jacket, shirt and tie to the office? Um... today it was jeans and a Star Wars retro T-shirt...

Bond finally meets his match - me and the jacket in happier, less on fire times -

scamper

Piers is only about 5ft 9 isn't he?

Gooner

When I met him the other week he was about my height and I'm sure I'm a bit shorter than that. Guess you'll have to head over to t'other forum and ask him.

scamper

Mrs Skyhook

Frank Bullitt

Blarno

What are you doing with your left hand, Jase?

Stuntman

He's shaking, not stirring...

Bob Sacramento

Must be brilliant not to have to pay VAT on your clothes.

Today, I’ve mainly been setting my clothes on fire

Re: Today, I’ve mainly been setting my clothes on fire