For slightly more than the price of a book by a new author, we bought the kids a couple of walkie-talkies from Argos. (I hope Claire and Luke never read this, by the way, because as far as they are concerned the walkie-talkies came from Father Christmas.)
Needless to say, the damn things failed to work properly, pretty much right from the outset. One of them alternates between silence and an annoying crackling noise. The other one makes the annoying crackling noise constantly. If you press the buttons, it will also fart.
Rachel says we should take them back, but as I have vowed never to set foot in Argos again, this is unlikely to happen.
Besides, even when they were working properly, they were shit. The range, which I tested by walking away from Luke as we communicated inanely, turned out to be around twenty paces. In other words, we could still hear each other talking in more or less our normal voices, and didn’t actually need walkie-talkies.
Oh, how I wish I had spent the money on a book by a new author.
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2 comments:
Hi Roger
Father Christmas brought my eldest girl a remote control car (it's what she said she wanted).
"Remote" means that it's attached to the controls by a couple of yards of awkward wire.
"Control" means that it moves forward, sometimes. And that, if you pull the lever backwards it attempts to drive backwards and to one side (any side, at random), but not too seriously.
Her Auntie Sharon helped Santa to buy it - must have been another Argos purchase.
Paul, hello! And thanks for dropping in. I think we might have one of those cars somewhere. In amongst all the other brightly coloured crap. Needless to say I was back in Argos yesterday, getting my daughter's birthday present. I couldn't be arsed to take back the walkie-talkies. Remind me, seriously, never to go in that shop again, ever.
Roger.
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