On the farm upon which I work we have a livery yard

. Horses are the spawn of satan, no they really are. They are owned by snooty women that expect the world to stop rotating so they can pursue their pass time.
This week, us chaps on the farm were disturbed, not for the first time, by a lady, strong of thigh, to assist her in changing a wheel.
Obviously I hid. While hiding I was muttering in about feminism and girl power being thrown straight out of the window once again at times of their chosing, such as heavey lifting, spider removal or in this case, tyre changing. Yesterday I asked the fitter if he assisted this lady. Yes he said. The jack was up, the nuts were off, the spare out and ready, if bald. What was the problem I enquired? She couldn't get the wheel off. Huh? The alloy of the wheel had fused to the steel of the hub and wouldn't come off even with the assistance of a lump hammer. He had to drive a wedge between the wheel and the hub.
Hmm so an apology

and a word about checking to see if you can get your alloy wheels off.
Sorry again.