Originally Posted by
Burney
Your domestic arrangements alarm me, m.
Mind you, this does remind me of a time when the main sewer that ran in an alley next to my old house had some issues and I called the water people. I was working at home at the time and a grubby little homunculus dressed in overalls of indistinct colour and dubious cleanliness came to the door to announce he was going to have a poke about as his calling demanded. "Jolly good," I said, backing away imperceptibly. "Crack on, there's a good fellow."
Half an hour later, he rang the doorbell again wielding a huge and filthy shovel which he jabbed towards me accusingly, saying: "THERE'S YOUR TROUBLE!"
On the shovel were a simply enormous pair of perished, shít-covered Y-fronts of ancient vintage.
"You can't flush things like that!" he continued. "No wonder you've got bloody trouble."
I pointed out hotly that the sewer served the entire street, that these were clearly not my Y-Fronts and that he needed to look elsewhere for the felonious flusher. "Pshaw!" he said (or similar), gave me the stinkeye and stalked off, muttering darkly.
A very distressing experience. I imagine he was one of h's chums. Indeed, when I think of h, I imagine this fellow.
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