My scrap buddy

Everyone should have a scrap buddy. Rob Robinson-Collins is mine. You'll have heard about him before on this blog and I do what I can to be his scrap buddy.

This is how it works.

If either of us becomes tempted by a desirable piece of scrap, they ring the other up and enthuse all about it.

The scrap buddy's job is to offer wise counsel to the scrap addict and generally talk them out of temptation and get them back on the tidy uncluttered road to impossible self-righteousnes.

"Right," says the scrap buddy to the scrap addict. "All you want is one car and one bike and that's it."

Of course, it never works like that. We always start out with the best intention but before long the scrap addicts enthusiasm gets the better of both of us and the scrap buddy will interrupt the ravings of the scrap addict with a small but significant question.

"How much did you say they want for it?"

Or "And has it got any shiny bits with it?"

And then the scrap addict knows that they no longer have a scrap buddy.

This always happens whenever Rob and I try to act as scrap buddies to each other. We simply end up fuelling the other's scrap addiction.

"You could re-sell it for bits," is a favourite of his. "Incredibly rare," is another , often followed up by, "Another will never come up again at that price."

My ineffectual help as a scrap buddy includes ripostes such as, "It won't take up much room at the back of the garage," or "When was the last time you even saw one of those?" and "It won't be doing anyone any harm once we've trailered it back from Ireland."

It is just a short and sorry step to saying "If you don't buy it, I will!" followed by shouts of "Buy it!" down the telephone.

So far neither of us has been an effective scrap buddy but - y'know - I don't think either of us is really bothered.