The only decent thing I have is FiL’s old Stanley Yankee.
Turns out the bits are not made of cheese, unlike everything else I own, and it was very useful for demolishing a rotting shelf that supported a leaking negative head pump a couple of weeks ago.
Said shelf was of course attached with 12" screws at a jaunty 30 degree angle to the wall.
The best thing that ever happened to the Yankee was the electric screwdiver.
I remember my Dad deciding that all the floorboards in a room needed to be screwed down to the the joists.
I offered to help.
He handed me a bloody huge Yankee and a box of 2" screws.
He went round with a drill and drilled the pilot holes and I followed behind with the Yankee.
Bastard job, my hands were raw afterwards, he thought it hilarious and regaled me with stories of using one for days on end when laying floors.
The Yankee also managed to attack me quite successfully. I ended up with quite a few wounds.
O/T - but it’s a fine line we tread: drinking sufficient to be numb-enough to Cope; but not so much that we die before the point of intolerable decrepitude is reached…