John McCullagh May 3, 2005
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My brother P J was notorious for his obsession for unscrewing things. 

One particular day when I offered to take the baby out for a stroll in his pram, I suddenly learned how lethal P J’s tinkering could be. It was not until the pram was angled off the horizontal, literally when I took it off the footpath’s kerb in order to cross the road that I discovered what he had been up to! 

At that point the body of the pram parted company with its wheels; P J had undone the screws fixing it in place.

 I managed to reunite the two parts but still there was no way to hold it secure. As quickly as I could I returned the pram to the house. I ran hell for leather round to my aunt’s house with my tale of woe. 

 When my mother went to pull the pram over the threshold, the same thing as before happened. She recognised who the culprit was and he was duly punished.

My mother was angry with me for abandoning the pram outside without offering an explanation. It was only through the good offices of my father that I escaped with a mere ‘telling off’.

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