Bodge Jobs
In the late 1970s we had to get together a scratch ceilidh band at short notice for a charity barn dance. Barn dances used to be held in real barns with bales of hay chucked around for 'atmosphere' whilst bands were put on a 'stage' made from a some kind rickety cart which was never large enough. On this particular occasion we were pleased to have with us a pleasant young man called Simon who was a good useful musician and an asset to the band. Unfortunately there weren't enough inputs on the amp so Simon said not to worry, he'd improvise, and stuck a couple of wires into one of the input sockets alongside the jack that was already in there.

You can see what's coming. can't you?

The first two dances went very well. Halfway through the third, I noticed a strange smell that seemed to be emanating from the amplification equipment. The others had also noticed it and at the end of the dance we could see that smoke was starting to emerge. "Not to worry" said Simon, who spoke with such authority and, given the nature of his day job, we assumed he knew about stuff like that. So we did not protest when he fiddled around with the wiring, stopping the smoke.

A little later we started to notice the distinctive aroma drifting our way once more. This time there was quite a lot more smoke. One of the organisers came and stopped the dance, and gave us an almighty bollocking about safety (no 'health and' in those days) and fire risks, and so on ad nauseam. The trouble was, we had difficulty keeping straight faces, especially when he started ranting about reporting us to fire safety officers.

Simon was a fireman.....
(grumpy old ratbag, Tue 15 Mar 2011, 15:16, Reply)