Philip breathes a sigh of relief. Honestly, he was expecting the worst already, but now that he's thinking about it, there's not many ways it can even get worse, after a dating game and advertising for antidepressant drugs against erectile dysfunction.

"Right again! That darned shelf has been bothering sweet Annie for weeks, but what can you do, when her husband juuuuuuuuuuuust doesn't have the right tools to make her happy?"

That earns the invisible voice a peeved little eye twitch, before Philip glances back and shelf... and the hammer and nails on the counter next to it.

"I'm... sorry, you're right. I'll- I'll get right on that."

He grits his teeth and walks over to the broken shelf. Just a board that needs to be re-attached, and if it wasn't for that voice he'd expect it to be a matter of a few moments, but instead he's looking for a catch.

The nails look... just like nails, and the hammer looks like a plain and ordinary hammer. If that's the product they're supposed to be advertising then he can't say that they've spent a lot of thought on a flashy design.

Still, after giving Annie an uncertain shrug he takes the hammer. And two nails. And--

And stops short of the first beat, when the grim realisation hits him.

"Hang on, are we in one of those bloody infomercials now?" he whispers back to Annie.

"You know, the ones with the--"

He waves his hands vaguely. Jesus, those were the bane of his existence back when he still stayed up late, mulling over papers./i>