Flushed with success...

This awful virus has affected us in all sorts of ways….some people have kicked out the kids to make way for their stash of loo rolls and tinned whelks, and others have been getting in touch with the siblings/parents/ex-pals they’ve hated ever since someone called someone else a complete knob in 1973.

For me, something has happened that you’ve all most one of you has been predicting for years – Mr Pickles got in touch to ask if I’d consider allowing my downpipe to become as one with his plunger!!!

Obviously, with all this social distancing, the invitation came through the post.  He wrote to me (on the back of a reminder that the pharmacy still owes him £1.32 for a couple of washers and an o-ring.)  After the part about how he wouldn’t hesitate to take a monkey wrench to my kneecaps if I didn’t pay up, he very sweetly asked if I was still suffering from damp down below. He said my black mould was the finest he’d ever seen, and that if I’d consider being the next Mrs Pickles, he’d give me free access to his wire brush and stumpy screwdriver….

I’m not sure what to think. Will I be able to get over his aroma of mildew and fish food? Will I be happy to share my bidet with a man who has a sideline as agony aunt (plumbing problems only please) for The People’s Friend? Will I be able to overlook the fact that he hasn’t got a clue what my name is, and addressed his note to ‘the fat blonde bird wot finks she’s almost a doctor, but once sold me Deep Heat instead of Anusol, and nearly burnt me bum off.’?

 

Who knows what’s in the pipeline? We’ll just have to wait and WC…….