The Great Paint Rip Off

Mary and I decided there were certain parts of our homestead that could do with a lick of paint. Little did we know that a mere lick would be the best plan. And a lot cheaper. 

The price of ordinary paint has gone mad. I suspect that there is a consortium somewhere that send out armies of paint removal agents. People dressed in nondescript clothing that carry various scrapers. Unbeknown to us all, they wander around scraping perfectly good paint from doors, skirting boards and other woodwork. Possibly, even concrete. 

Then, the homeowners notice the flaking paint and set about repairing the problem with a trip to their nearest paint retailer. 

And experience a horrendous shock. 

On scanning the massive array of paints and finding something that would do for what we needed. I raised it aloft like I’d won an Olympic paint-finding event. 

“Here it is, this is what we need!”

“Great, that’ll do it will it?” Mary was looking at the label of the shelf. 

“It will. Perfect for what we require,” I said, with great confidence. I took one more glance at the space on the shelf I’d picked up the paint from. And the price label. 

£30. 

I rubbed my eyes. Clearly seeing things. I looked again. 

£30. 

I placed the paint back down on the shelf. Mary looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Not that one, love. It contains Unobtainium.” 

“What?”

“It’s 30 quid.” 

She marched off into the next aisle. I followed, still in a state of shock. And found smaller cans of paint. Mary was already scanning them for the right colour. I left her to it. Me and colour don’t get along. 

I did find one tin that looked right. And it was exterior paint. It would work for the other paint job we needed to do. I held it aloft like I’d won a medal at the Olympic Games. 

“This will do for the flower trough, love.” 

Mary walked over and checked the colour. I waited, breath held in. She nodded. “Yep, that’ll work.” 

I did the thing. Where I glanced at the label on the shelf. And placed the can back as carefully as I could. 

“What’s up now?” Mary asked. 

All colour had drained out of my face. “Unobtainium again.” 

“How much?” 

“Seventeen quid.”

Mary strode off into the next aisle. I followed. We repeated this process several more times. And ended up buying a tester pot for a fiver. We both decided there was a better course of action. 

First, we would check what paint we had left in the garage. Second, we would look on the Amazonian shop on the inter-web. Believing we would find paint not manufactured from Unobtainium. 

We did. We got three cans for the price of one in that famous retailer whose name begins with a B and a Q. 

Now, some of you might be thinking we were looking at the expensive brands. That is possibly true. But here’s the thing. Cheap paint is a con. It doesn’t last for long, drips everywhere and looks crap. 

Right, I’m going to make a brew. I’m going to have a mug of what I call “posh coffee”. I’m allowed one a month from our Tassimo machine. Because the pods? They are also manufactured with a different type of unobtainium. They must be. We have to save hard to afford them. 

Good night if it’s night, good day if it’s day and if you’re not sure, have a look out of the window. Mind you don’t scratch the paintwork.