BLACKSMITHS are a dying breed and they wouldn't even think of taking on some lily-livered limp-wristed Do-It-Yourself citified twit as an apprentice. Why, they'd smash your head in with one blow of their great big hammer for even asking. And don't believe that Gentle Giant stuff, either. I speak as one who has been punched in the face by a Peruvian blacksmith for no reason. Just for making eyes at his wife. Making eyes at her with my arm around her waist. In a bar in the back-country in the hills behind Lima, actually. Goodness, she was a peach. If her husband hadn't turned up unexpectedly, why, I'd have...

...hmm. I see what you mean. Okay. Mind you, where would we be without them? Some of us, frankly, would be literally nowhere at all; blacksmith's children for example.