Bad Grandad’s Castle Renovation Goes Completely Off the Rails

Bad Grandad has decided that his medieval castle needs a fresh look. The battlements are crumbling, the drawbridge sticks halfway up, and every draft seems to whistle a rude tune through the dining hall. Naturally, he has rejected professional help and announced that the entire renovation can be completed with “a hammer, a ladder and strong opinions”.

The project begins with a grand vision: polished floors, a modern kitchen and a moat that complies with current safety expectations. Bad Grandad sketches his plans on the back of an old takeaway menu, then orders materials according to whichever labels look most impressive. A box marked “decorative stone” becomes a new tower, while a packet of garden edging is promoted to defensive wall.

This is exactly the kind of comic chaos that suits the character. His confidence is enormous, his practical knowledge is limited, and every sensible warning becomes an insult to his ancestral dignity. A simple repair quickly turns into a campaign against building inspectors, pigeons, plumbing and the laws of physics.

For readers who enjoy the wider world of Andy Fanton’s cartoon work, the Andy Fanton’s comics collection offers plenty of similarly energetic characters and visual jokes. Bad Grandad’s castle disaster would fit neatly among strips where one bad decision gathers speed until the final panel delivers the damage.

A renovation plan built on bad decisions

Bad Grandad starts by removing a load-bearing wall because it blocks the view of his television. He promises that the ceiling will remain upright through “traditional medieval craftsmanship”, then props the upper floor on furniture borrowed from the banquet hall. The resulting room has an impressive open-plan feel, although the chandelier now swings whenever someone walks past.

His next priority is the kitchen. He wants a stone worktop, an enormous oven and a pantry large enough to store emergency pies. The castle’s ancient plumbing cannot cope with a dishwasher, so the first test sends a fountain through the servants’ staircase. Bad Grandad calls it an indoor water feature and places a sign beside it requesting donations.

The renovation also exposes his unusual approach to budgeting. He buys the cheapest materials available, then spends the savings on a gold-plated door knocker shaped like his own face. When a delivery arrives from a discount hardware warehouse, he insists that a pallet of bricks is a “bulk investment” rather than evidence that he misunderstood the measurements.

Australian rules meet medieval ambition

Moving the story into an Australian setting gives the castle an extra layer of comic trouble. Bad Grandad may imagine himself above local bureaucracy, but a council development application is still required before he adds a turret, widens the moat or installs a drawbridge over the driveway. A heritage overlay, especially in an older Melbourne neighbourhood, could make every alteration more complicated.

He treats the council officer as a rival nobleman and attempts to settle the matter with a ceremonial sword. The officer calmly explains that the sword must also comply with local regulations. Bad Grandad responds by submitting a second application written in illuminated manuscript, complete with a wax seal and several angry cartoons of the planning department.

Australian weather creates further problems. In a bushfire-prone area, the castle’s timber balconies and decorative thatch would demand serious attention to fire safety. Bad Grandad’s solution is to replace the roof with corrugated iron painted to resemble straw, creating a structure that looks like a medieval barn designed by a very determined shed enthusiast.

The hardware run becomes a heroic quest

Every renovation needs supplies, so Bad Grandad sets off for Bunnings in a battered cart pulled by two underfed ponies. He refuses to use a trolley because it lacks heraldic importance. In the car park, he becomes distracted by a sausage sizzle and returns to the castle with three sausages in bread, a tube of sealant and no timber.

The local tradies quickly learn to avoid his job site. A plumber from Parramatta refuses to connect the moat filtration system after discovering that Bad Grandad has installed the pipes upside down. An electrician from Adelaide finds candles wired into the mains. A tiler in Brisbane arrives, sees the floor, and quietly says that he has another appointment somewhere several suburbs away.

Bad Grandad insists that professional advice is merely jealousy in hi-vis clothing. He attempts to mix concrete in a wheelbarrow, adds too much water and produces a pale grey soup that flows towards the village. The episode’s visual humour comes from the scale of his errors: every small shortcut causes a larger, wetter and more expensive catastrophe.

Castle comforts with a very modern twist

The strangest part of the renovation is Bad Grandad’s determination to combine medieval grandeur with everyday convenience. He installs a smart doorbell beneath a portcullis, fits a flat-screen television into a stained-glass window and orders automatic blinds that descend like prison bars whenever the sun appears.

His dream bathroom includes a claw-foot bath, a heated towel rail and a moat-side view. Unfortunately, the castle’s resident crocodile mistakes the bathwater for an invitation. Bad Grandad blames the creature for poor etiquette and hangs a laminated notice explaining that all reptiles must wipe their feet.

The comedy works because his ambitions are recognisable. Many Australians have tackled a weekend project after watching a short online tutorial, made an extra trip to the hardware shop and discovered that the “easy” part requires specialist tools. Bad Grandad simply experiences that familiar home-improvement spiral with a castle, a catapult and several hundred years of accumulated masonry.

The final reveal is gloriously lopsided

After weeks of noise, dust and increasingly nervous neighbours, Bad Grandad unveils the finished castle. The new tower leans slightly, the drawbridge opens only during high winds and the moat contains more potting mix than water. Yet he proudly declares the result a triumph of heritage restoration.

The final panel reveals that he has renovated the wrong castle. His original home stands untouched across the valley, while the building he has spent his savings repairing belongs to a tourist attraction. A small sign beside the entrance announces that guided tours begin at ten, leaving Bad Grandad to explain the situation to a queue of paying visitors.

The best punchline is his response: he decides to charge admission and calls the mistake a business model. With one last hammer blow, he knocks loose a gargoyle, which lands on his hat and completes the renovation’s only perfectly fitted feature.

That mix of physical comedy, stubborn confidence and escalating absurdity also connects with Fanton’s other playful creations. A Carrotty Kid review shows how an ordinary contest can become a wonderfully chaotic adventure, much like Bad Grandad turning a repair job into a full-scale medieval catastrophe.

Explore Andy Fanton’s comic strips, drawings and humorous characters at Andy Fanton Dot Com, then follow Bad Grandad’s renovation from the first loose brick to the final, gloriously crooked tower. Share the strip with anyone who has ever begun a “quick” home project and ended up needing a permit, a tradie and a much larger budget.