Pyramid Scheme: a Sly Old Fox

One of those days when you think it's going to be dull and you're wrong.
The big car died yesterday so the man from the garage came along and did the big intake of breath which means extra charges. Looks like we need an alternative alternator.
And then Bensmum said why don't all the boys go and mess around at the Pyramids, because we're all old enough, we don't even need chaperones, we can drown on our own in a sea of bikinis while the Mummies drink tea.
Now, I know full well we're trying to buy another house, for I have seen 3, chosen one and have given it my seal of approval, sitting in the front window of the Quick Brown Estate Agents.
So we spend several hundred quid sending the surveyor around to the house to see if it's falling down, and hey presto, he says yes, it is indeed falling down, needs lots of work but might be cheaper if a Jumbo Jet lands on it and you build it all over again.
Then we heard a little whisper in the Elephant (which means someone tipped us the nod, er, a little birdie told us) that the verminous Estate Agents knew all about the falling-down house because the previous people did a survey which showed up exactly the same stuff, told them all about it, and the owner hasn't mended any of it.
And what does the fox say? Fox you, nothing to do with me, mate. Think of how much Lego I could have bought with £475.
Anyway, while Jof was shouting at them for wasting our money and they weren't caring, us boys got 3 hours of hard wet play and we raced flumes and hid in the defence shield (the fountain by the wave alert control console) and they delivered me home just in time to watch stoned people falling into lava in Minecraft for hours.
Tonight I offer my Lego Ninjago rotating blaster plane with added chap from the 1980s Manchester gay scene.