Sideswipe: January 3: Size matters

What are we paying for?

Size matters.

“NZ Post left a card for me to pick up this parcel at our local Post Shop,” writes Stuart from Kerikeri. “The reason …'The mailbox is not large enough. Please ensure your mailbox is large enough for the mail you receive’.”

Objects men pick up and pretend are a gun

A banana: Spotting a banana in a fruit bowl, a man hears the imaginary sound of two masked intruders kicking the kitchen door in. Wheeling and grabbing the banana in an instant, he fires a fusillade of shots from his deadly oblong fruit while diving behind the fridge. Both die instantly.

A cordless vacuum: This futuristic plasma weapon is perfect for combatting ghosts, aliens or mere invaders beaming in from an alternative future. Can be fired either one-handed or, using the extended barrel, to deliver a superheated stream of molten death straight from the hip.

A hairdryer: “Maybe not,” men casually say while raising the hairdryer from its concealed position beneath the dressing table. “Say hello to my little friend. Now, give me one reason to let you live. Uh? Not good enough,” before triggering maximum heat and flow. Boom.

A weed puller: This dandelion-removing tool not only has the right long-barrelled shape but requires a shotgun-racking moment to dispose of the weed into the correct recycling bin. It looks like he’s doing the garden: actually he’s Arnie in Terminator 2, blowing holes in the T-1000. The part of John Connor is played by a rosebush.

An upholstery stapler: Not shaped like any weapon used by conventional police forces but has a trigger and actually fires something, delivering a satisfying kickback. Furniture restorers must enjoy cloudless psychological health after double-tapping all their enemies in the back of the head hundreds of times a day. (Via The Daily Mash)

Coffee in Southland

No orange mocha frappuccino?

History of soap grafting

Soap grafting is something now mainly found among those who grew up during World War II and the period of rationing afterwards. Soap was rationed along with tobacco, petrol and clothing - not just food. So leftover bits of soap were never thrown out but squashed and stuck on to the new bar.