Going through the motions — 13 Comments

  1. As the plumber said “to you it might be shit, to me, it’s bread and butter”.

    If there was a crock of gold under that there effluent…

  2. It’s a bunch of flowers or bananas. It’s a crock of shit. Funny word ‘crock.’ Must google it while I think on.

  3. Patrick – I can assure you, there was no gold.  Brown, maybe but no gold.

    TT – There is a world of difference between sewers and landfill.  Anyway, I’d never get a stiff past the U-bend.

    Slab – You worry me.  Do you immediately go haring off looking for Poo images?  Or [even more scary] do you have a ready made supply on your PC?

    Brianf – Very bunched.  As soon as I unbunched it I had a major movement.

    TT – Leave my commenters alone.  I have warned you before about that.

    Slab – See above.  [Now I’m even more worried]

    BWT – I’ll swap you some shite for some brass?

  4. I once called in a plumber because the warm bathwater tap was delivering so slowly. He looked in the hot press and found a dead shrunken mouse in one of the pipes. Apparently the creature had infiltrated the system via the attic water tank. Imagine, I’d been bathing myself in mousefied water. No wonder the teenage girls never danced a second time with me at the parish ceilis. Now I pour three pints of boiled milk into the bath and add a cube of Oreal bubbles. Funny thing is, them teenage girls are still avoiding me at the ceilis. Should I phone Pat Kenny and ask for confidential advice? I suppose Pat himself smells strongly of striped suit all the time.

  5. Ger – Take it from one who knows – Pat just smells of wood.  You must have pretty big pipes in your place?  Either that or it was a very small mouse?

  6. It was a small mouse by the time the plumber had got to it, but big enough to slow the flow of hot water into my bath. Mice are fairly flexible creatures, not having many bones, and can squeeze into tiny apertures. My hot press pipes have a narrow diameter but not narrow enough to deter the brown furry ones.

    Let us compromise and say that up close Pat Kenny smells of flannel and wood. If he fancies Chateau Latour Appellation d’origine contrôlée fermented in centuries-old caskets, then the wood gives off a not unpleasant bouquet. Slainte, and good luck with your sludge eradication.

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