Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire…





I just got back from a holiday in the Greek Islands - and very nice it was too.  Usually after a holiday, I would be complaining to airlines or hotels but this time, I had a very unusual experience with a faulty cigaratte lighter.....

 

Ronson International

Station Works

Long Buckby

Northampton

NN6 7PF

Dear Customer Relations,

I recently acquired one of your lighters.

To be more precise, I acquired a Ronson ‘Colourlite’ disposable lighter in navy/white[1].  According to your website, the lighter is “dependable and easy to use” and “comes in 5 vibrant colours”.  What’s more, it conforms to ISO 9994[2] which is very reassuring.  The packaging states that it is “child safe approved”. This is obviously a very safe lighter.

Unfortunately, that last statement is complete and utter bollocks.

And talking of bollocks, that just happens to be what the lighter was resting against when it exploded.

Yes, that’s right, exploded.  Like a hand grenade.

It just so happens that I was wearing a pair of swimming shorts at the time.  Consequently, I was not wearing underwear of any kind which might have cushioned the impact. No, my wedding tackle was nestled in a fine net gusset – designed no doubt to allow ventilation in but stop testicles getting out and making an unscheduled appearance down the leg of the shorts when I was reclining on a sunbed.  As any soldier will tell you, a fine net gusset is no substitute for Kevlar body armour.

I had just been out on the balcony of our hotel room in Mykonos to enjoy a cigarette and returning to the room, I put the cigarette packet and lighter into the pocket of my shorts.  Soon afterwards, there was a deafening bang , followed a split second later by excruciating pain causing me to drop to my knees screaming something along the lines of “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!”

The loud bang, my collapse and the horrendous noises I was making convinced my wife that I had been shot and she went into an immediate panic – unable to decide whether to run to my aid or hide under the bed.  For my part, I was too busy feeling like I had been kicked in the nuts by an invisible horse.

Having absolutely no idea what had happened, I eventually plucked up the courage to put my hand into the pocket of my shorts to inspect the damage.  There, alongside my throbbing testicle, I discovered the lighter – now in two very distinct pieces.

At this point, you have probably decided that I am making this up so to demonstrate that I am in fact telling the truth, I include below a photograph[3] of the lighter taken after the explosion:

It is indeed fortunate that the shrapnel was not sharper.  The thought of having a two inch piece of plastic embedded in my soft and tender parts still makes my eyes water.

Be that as it may, I (and my wife for that matter) have been through a very traumatic experience.  The incident didn’t do a lot for my holiday sex life either I can tell you!  My right testicle is still throbbing gently as I write this – whether from the lingering effects of the injury or because it knows what I’m writing I cannot say.  I shall probably suffer from bouts of post traumatic stress disorder.

At the very least, you owe me a disposable lighter – preferably one that doesn’t belong on the business end of a cruise missile.  I hope though that you will feel that my unique experience is deserving of a gesture of compensation. 

A couple of World Cup Final tickets would be nice.

Yours achingly,

 

Anthony