Paying in Shovels

Damn and blast and flipperin' bloomin' heck. Another shovel gone. It's shovel time again, boys. Time to face Lionel at the shovel shop.

"Shovel please, Lionel," I said unobtrusively.

"Shovel, is it?" That's Lionel for you. "Another shovel?"

"Yes, another shovel." I pointed behind him to remind him of shovels.

"And just how do you intend to pay for this...shovel you say you want?" asked Lionel. He's so sardonic.

"Well, with these very-much-still in circulation Irish pounds," I said convincingly.

He wagged his finger unpromisingly, but he did it with a delightful swinging rhythm, so that was OK.

I was just thinking what a flipperin' bloomin' outrage it was that there weren't any other shovel shops, when suddenly Lionel offered a lifeline. "You could always pay in shovels."

"Oh fine, that would be great," I enthused, so he picked up three shovels and whacked me unconscious, quite hard.

"Best one yet," he cackled.