A man walks into a bar

"Son. Of. A. Bitch. He actually came."

He made his way towards the bar. "Sup fellas. Sup Micky, glass of Stella please mate."

"So how's your week been pal?" Micky asks.

The man lets out a sigh. "Been a rough week man. Rough fucking week. Thanks mate keep the change. Monday. Fucking Monday man, a part of the roof came in and I called in a repairman to sort it out. Lad was called Andrew and he was a fucking disaster. Trainwreck of a fucking job man, this fucking roofs gonna cave in next time it rains."

"Rough ride man," Phil says, whilst putting his hand on the mans shoulder, "I know how you feel. Tuesday man, fucking Tuesday. Garden path needed sorting so called out a repairman and this fucking Andrew guy came..."

"Curly hair, mid fourties, with the goatee?"

"...Yeah that fucking bastard, is that the guy you had come to do your roof mate?"

"Yeah sounds like it."

"Fuck man, anyway, he made a fucking hash of this garden path. Can't even let the kids play out in the garden cos of it."

"Another Stella please Micky. Did you hear about what happened on Thursday? Fuck. My. Life."

"No," said Phil. "What happened mate?"

"Fucking washer broke and that fucking Andrew guy came out. Jack of all trades he says, more like jacking off in your face," he says whilst doing a wanking motion with his left hand, "now I have no washer, no money, nothing. And Friday, he came back and fucking charged me for extra 'repairs'."

"Feel you bro," said Phil.

"Hope I never have to deal with this Andrew fella again, absoutely disgusting service he provides." says the man.

Just then, a man from the other end of the bar comes over. "You talking about Andrew?"

"Yeah Andrew, the repairman. You know him mate?"

"Yeah, Andy man. He aint no *handyman*."