CD Designs Blog

    The Adventures of Concrete Man: Episode 1

    Mr and Mrs Henderson want their drive re-done. Who are they going to call? Concrete Man, that’s who. Within seconds of them getting off the phone to him he arrives outside their modest detached bungalow. He stands there, cape fluttering in the wind, and in a booming voice he says:


    His voice is so loud that the windows rattle in their frames.

    ‘CONCRETE MAN IS HERE!’ He continues, and then asks – in a slightly quieter voice –

    ‘Where’s your toilet?’

    Five minutes later and Concrete Man has seen to his call of nature, Mr Henderson has made them all a cup of tea, and Mrs Henderson is watching in amazement as Concrete Man excavates their old drive using only the power of his mind. Dirt and chunks of old tarmacadam fly up into the air and rain down on the garden and the Henderson’s Volvo Estate, putting a nasty chip in the windshield and setting the alarm off.

    Concrete Man, you see, was born with a natural understanding of concrete and very little understanding of anything else. He can mix, lay, smooth, imprint and seal a driveway in seconds, and to be honest it’s gone to his head.

    Before Mr and Mrs Henderson really know what’s hit them, Concrete Man has filled in the excavation with subgrade. A concrete truck appears.  Mrs Henderson approaches Concrete Man:

    ‘This is all happening so fast… we haven’t even told you our design ideas…’

    ‘DON’T WORRY LOVE!’ roars Concrete Man, looking over Mrs Henderson’s head instead of meeting her eye,


    And before she can argue he’s set to work in a blur of movement. 10 minutes later it’s all over; Concrete Man has departed, having dried the concrete with his super-breath, and, of course, left the Henderson’s with a hefty invoice.

    The Henderson’s look at their new drive. Mr Henderson is shell-shocked; Mrs Henderson is seething. Concrete Man has very, very skilfully completed their driveway. It’s just a shame that his chosen design was a massive portrait of himself. A testament to what you can achieve with coloured concrete it may be, but the Henderson’s dream-drive it is not.

    ‘I would’ve much preferred Herring Bone Brick.’ Says Mr Henderson, glumly.

    ‘Never mind,’ says Mrs Henderson, ‘I’m going to have a look on the internet for a reputable local contractor. I’ve heard good things about that CD Designs…’

    Mr Henderson looks down at their driveway-sized portrait of Concrete Man, and says ‘And I’ll get on the phone to trading standards.’

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