and dishwasher into the same water supply under my sink.
Does it exist? what would it be called.
I have the hot tap unused but I don't wish to attach the dishwasher to it.
and dishwasher into the same water supply under my sink.
Does it exist? what would it be called.
I have the hot tap unused but I don't wish to attach the dishwasher to it.
pay three times as much when it goes wrong, then you want one of these,
Selt tapping valve
You need to make sure you have a section of pipe - 15mm copper - under the sink with good clearance around it. If the pipe is pressed up tight to the wall this device wont work.
Just get a plumber in Fash. I have seen so many wretches cowering under the withering stare of their irate wives, babbling "Thought I'd have a go myself.Thought it wouldn't be too difficult."
The self tappers are excellent but if it goes wrong you have pierced your pipe and water is pissing everywhere. Many people have no idea where their stopcock even is turn it all off.
Yes, but I die a little inside whenever a tradesman asks if he can use my lavatory. I know that the working classes - being little better than chimps - can't be trusted to behave hygienically when performing their bodily functions and half expect to go in there afterwards to find excrement smeared all over the walls.
Yes, but in the more likely event that one is successful, one glows with pride in the knowledge of having denied some unwashed homunculus a vastly inflated fee which he would doubtless have used to buy Turkey Twizzlers for his whey-faced children or to take his ragged slattern of a wife out to dinner at Frankie & Benny's (or somewhere equally ghastly) prior to mounting her.
thanks for this info. Very helpful.
My neighbour, who I've had an extremely stand-offish relationship with since we moved here, came to our door the other morning clutching his stomach and asking if he could use our loo as their flusher had broken :-(
What was interesting was how the tension that had clouded our relationship seemed to wash away in an instant as I became overwhelmed with empathy for the man.
Shítting really is a great leveller, isn't it.
So this man, we assume suffering the indignity of diorrhea, broke his toilet and then knocked on your door and asked to use yours?
I'd have **** in my sink before losing my self-respect in such a manner.
Anyway, if his flush had broken why didn't he just use buckets of water to flush?
Oh I was not happy, but it did serve to end the frostiness between us. We even chatted about the footy the other day.
To my great relief and surprise, there was absolutely no stench, despite him having an appearance that would give you every reason to believe his shíts absolutely honk.
Did I ever mention the time a girl messaged me on an online dating site telling me that we knew each other as children (our parents were mutual friends) and whether I'd like to meet up, and all I could remember about her was that she'd once taken a shít in my paddling pool in our family garden?
Quite pretty, but fat. You know the type.
I actually went to her dad's funeral about a year ago. We exchanged some warm words but spoke neither of the online dating nor the shítting in a paddling pool, which I felt was a shame as either topic could have lightened the frankly depressing mood around the place.
This whole sordid tale is classic Monty in that it bears little scrutiny before suspicions of its veracity arise.
Far more likely the fellow simply knocked at the door to borrow a cup of sugar before Monty insisted he come in for a coffee. When the fellow asked if he could use the facilities, his stomach afflicted by the foul cheap coffee, Monty made use of his recently crafted spying orifice behind the toilet seat.
I have never really understood the intangible concept of class in the UK.
You for example presumably need to work, in order to be able to live your life, so surely you are working class?
As is the Dutch Irish mongrel chap in the motor trade who likes to present himself as being in some way superior to the ordinary man in the street.
Having to work has nothing to do with being working class, sw. Do you find me with my hands down a u-bend, scaffolding, plastering or shovelling shít? No. Why not? Because those are occupations for the working classes.
I am middle class. I sit in an office tapping out deathless prose on a keyboard or having meetings. These are things middle class people do.
As am I - this was my family home until the late 50s - probably a long way from working class I would say
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