My sound engineering brethren, I feel your pain.
And for years I have been struggling just as you have, coerced into climbing that familiar mountain, bravely embarking ‘cross the bridge of despair, a spirit yearning for freedom, thoughts mired in the darkness of a wilderness within which only fools and heroes tread, all the while wondering, ever wondering, “does a man dare dream?”
I know, friends. I know.
I feel your pain.
It’s those bloody thread adapters getting stuck in mic clips. Ooo, they’re a nightmare, aren’t they?! There’s simply nothing worse. And what has always surprised me, right, is that they make them with small grooves cut into the top to aid their removal, yet no one has ever bothered actually manufacturing a tool for it! Tsk! My eyes are virtually rolling out of their sockets right now. So we’re all left, apparently “experienced” engineers, fumbling and bumbling around the circumference of the thread with a screwdriver, carving chunks out of it, only to inevitably utter the immortal line “anyone got a 50 pence piece?”
It makes me feel like a right willy.
And that’s of course if the adapter isn’t screwed so far in that no coin can achieve sufficient purchase. What happens then?! DOOM, that’s what. DOOM, right in your stupid, beardy face.
fig. 1: An example of the worst thing to ever happen:
Well NO MORE!
That’s right, my friends, I have solved the problem, and I expect to be showered in riches and have commemorative statues erected at your earliest convenience.
All you need to do, right, is get yourself down to your local key-cutting establishment – usually a cobbler, (but please, let’s not use this as an excuse to engage in a protracted debate about the unexplainable relationship between shoe repair and key cutting. Not here. Not now.) – and ask of the clerk that he or she furnish you with a blank mortice key, one with a head no longer than 15mm (although my proud 13mm seems to do the job nicely, thank you very much). If they enquire, suddenly panicked, why you could possibly need such an object and threaten to throw you out and call the police, please, friends, do try not to spit at them or burst into flames. It contravenes almost all of section 6.4 of the cobbler code. I assure you they are merely afraid and mean you no harm. Instead just politely explain that you are staging a miniature all-key production of Othello and, having utilised all other options, a spare is needed to play the part of Roderigo (Othello of course being the production of choice for the annual cobbling society Christmas ball, staged in Whitstable). They will understand.
Now, with your brand new, uncut mortice key, you should find yourself in possession of the perfect thread adapter removal device. It’s rugged enough to resist contortion, has a big extendy handle for extra leverage, and a head deep enough to resolve even the most embarrassing of thread adapter misdemeanours. Perfect!
fig. 2: An image which could single-handedly have eliminated the need for this entire rambling post:
So there you have it. Problem solved! No self-respecting sound engineer’s keyring should ever be without their very own thread adapter remover! That’s James’s top tip of the day, and if I ever hear any engineer ever again asking to borrow a 50 pence piece for this purpose, so help me I will personally burn their house down along with everything in it.
Fantastic! Well, I’m off to work on making blog posts, which could easily be summarised in two sentences, sound less like irritating Radio 4 light comedy shows.
No hesitation, repetition or deviation.