Posts Tagged ‘Moving Home’


12 months ago we introduced you to Del Springett, removal man. Sadly, Del passed away this week when he was crushed to death by a runaway Tallboy in Harlow. As a tribute to this workshy legend we re-print the only time he could be arsed to write for GFB.

Del Springett – never knowingly did a days work in his life.

Hello Fella,

In my line of work every day is different. One day you can be clearing a house, the next day moving someone into a house and the next day realizing you’ve moved the wrong people into the wrong house! But that’s what the Works Order said, so it ain’t my fault.

Recently I was asked to go an old folks home in Leyton to clear the flat of an old girl who had passed to the great commode in the sky. Get there and yep you’ve guessed it. Bleedin’ lift was out of order!

So I get the keys from the warden (no offer of a cup of tea) – up two flights of stairs and let myself in.  She’s only gone and left a three-piece suite behind! This is a two man job I thought to myself. So I went to the pub.

When I returned, slightly the worse for wear, an old girl across the way puts her head round the door and asks if there is anything she could do to help?

“Get on the end of this sofa sweetheart.”

She looked a bit put out but, with a lot of wheezing on her part and a bit of puffing on mine (had to stop for a ciggy now and again didn’t I?) we managed to get the sofa down the stairs.

She didn’t look too clever but it did her good. Better than playing carpet bowls and drinking tea all day I reckon. Suddenly a big yell goes up and she disappears from view.  Her bleedin’ prosthetic has come off!

Dear oh dear. What a palaver.

I had to do the last five yards on my own, load the sofa, pick up the old girl (and her leg)  and prop them up against the gate. Knackered I was.

I gave the gardener the heads up and said “You better get her back inside sharpish mate, looks like rain.”

Anyway, driving down the road I saw a sign asking for firewood. Ideal! Sofa’s burn well. My mate Baz set fire to his when he fell asleep with a roll up in his hand. Didn’t half go up.

Police, two fire engines and an ambulance turned up plus a film crew. An emergency services full house!

I reckon he could feature on the new series of “Police, Camera, Fuckwit!”

He’s still on the sick now. Lucky sod.

Anyway I reversed into the drive, pulled the sofa out and left it strategically placed by the front door so the owner won’t be able to get in.

Job done.

Went  to the pub afterwards. Reckon I earned it.

Don’t be a stranger Fella

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