A Spot of Maintenance

I poked the back of that enormous plastic telly box with my spanner. Nothing happened, of course, but it gave a satisfying hollow thud. Harold would have had a fit watching me near anything electrical with a metal tool, claiming I'd blow the house up. Found a stray half-penny wedged right underneath the plastic stand, sticky with dust and forgotten by whoever lives here. I scraped it loose with the spanner's jaw and shoved it straight into my waistcoat pocket. Finding good scrap right under people's noses—now that's proper work, and without getting my boots soaked outside either.