Well, that says it all really. Unless you would like to expound on that?

I've been trying to get a new Braun electric toothbrush out of its hard plastic casing. How on earth do they make it so impossibly difficult? My temper wasn't helped by the claim on the box that it "removes twice as much plaque than a regular manual toothbrush".

In my experience the opening of ANY object (especially an electrical one) these days requires no less than a degree in Mechanical Engineering. One wonders how the "old folk" ever manage it without bodily injury!

Even my oldest son (in his 20s) when faced with a computer accessory resorted to using scissors to open the package - and even then he managed to cut through the CDRom that he didn't realise was enclosed.

Baz

Is this an instance of the dreaded "blister pack"? I find they usually have a slot with a little key hump in it which is used for display hanging purposes'. I insert a finger or thumb from opposite sides, and trust to brute force to do the job. Scissors are for wimps!

Moi aussie, Mort. I may try Bryn's method if I have to do it again - I suppose it is a blister pack. Even with scissors I found it quite difficult.

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts, they say.

A Scot bearing a bottle is even more to be wary of, especially when it's Dode of an evening. Like last evening.

"I shall require your assistance all day tomorrow old chap: here's your bribe."
- "Fine. What are we doing?"
- "I've been watching these 60 minute makeovers on TV.  The Madam (i.e. Mrs Dode) is very down at the moment, so we're going to redecorate the sitting room while she's at work to cheer her up."
- "OK".
- "I'll give you a call as soon as she's gone."
- "Fine."

Now, as far as I understand, they use a team on these programmes, so I arrived on the scene expecting several others to be there....
- "Dode, where are the rest?"
- "What rest?"
My heart drops like a lift when its cable breaks. "Ah."

Their sitting room is 32 x 16 - not exactly small.
- "So what are we doing, Dode?"
- "Painting."
- "What?"
- "The walls."
- "All of them?"
- "Aye."

The last time we did the room it took between three and five of us two days from early morning to late at night. There was nothing for it but to get stuck in. Disaster immediately: cheap paint with no chance of it covering in even two coats.

Into the car, off to the nearest DIY store - Focus, in Arbroath, some eight miles away. Of course, they don't have the three colours he's set his heart on in one-coat paint. We don't have time to faff around, so he needs to be persuaded to go for something different, which is the approximate equivalent of commanding water to flow uphill. Eventually he's desperate enough to go for something not too far different, and we grab it and drive back. That's about ninety minutes of the eight hours gone, and not a thing to show for it so far....

At least the furniture's been moved and covered, not to mention The Madam's myriad ornaments stowed. But even with one-coat paint, it's going to need two applications to get a professional result, and there's a four-hour recoating time. The surfaces are really fiddly in places, too: it's not a quick job. Nonetheless, D insists on announcing half-hourly countdowns: it takes more than half of the remaining time to do the first coat, and it's not looking good. We crack on and do the second slightly faster.

"She'll be back in forty minutes," he suddenly announces: "stop everything and start cleaning up: it's got to be a big surprise, and I want everything to look perfect."

Unfortunately, he'd miscalculated, and I heard her arrive whilst I was out the back cleaning the brushes and rollers. I reached the room just in time to see her, mouth agape at the sight. On hearing her words ".....And what did you chose those colours for?" I decided that discretion was probably the better part of valour, and left them to it.

Hope it grows on her, for his sake.

Me? I'm already booked for something else next week....

So tell me what this decorating thing is all about Ron, I might possibly want to try it one day (unlikely though).

Merlin, the new BBC1 blockbuster was enjoyable tosh, two pretty young boys and Morgana with a dodgy accent.

Why was the following in-depth documentary programme about Merlin only on BBC Wales?