DUMB NEIGHBOUR (WE ALL HAVE ONE, DON'T WE?)
STORY 1
Said DN realises he has a blocked sewer when raw human waste begins to gurgle up through his bath plughole. His wife suggests calling a plumber. 'PLUMBER?' yells our hero, 'PLUMBER? We don't need no damned thieving PLUMBER! I'll fix this myself in no time.' So off he goes and hires a wet-vac appliance, and rips out the WC pan to access the soil pipe. He assembles the machine, rams the vac tube as far down the blocked pipe as it will go and then smacks the nearest control button, which happens to be the one labelled BLOW. Within seconds the entire bathroom, walls, ceiling, floor, door, and himself of course, is coated to a depth of about an inch with the smelliest spray job in history. It's the first time I hear his wife swear.   
   
STORY 2
Same DN buys a multi-fuel stove at a junk sale and fits it himself. He bores anyone he can buttonhole with claims of its ability to burn even non-combustible materials. Three of us call his bluff, and troop in at an appointed time to witness this miracle. Despite every door and window standing open the room is as hot as an oven and smells of scorching paint. All furniture has been pushed back to the walls to stop them bursting into flame. The stove is glowing red, suggesting that it has no fire-brick lining. DN, using a long metal rod, hauls open the fire-door, throws in a bag of empty cans, and pushes the door shut again. At almost the same moment there is an almighty BOOM, and a starburst of red-hot coals and shrapnel zips through the room. A cat, unnoticed until then, passes me at shoulder height in a blur of ginger on its way off the premises and is last sighted disappearing on a rising trajectory in the direction of Norway. By some miracle we are unscathed, apart from DN whose hair is ablaze. We beat the flames out with more vigour than is possibly required, and he squeals on the couch while we locate and extinguish numerous small fires. Some are in adjacent rooms, started by pieces of red-hot stove passing right through the wall. Who would think you could get that much energy from three old hair-spray cans?