It started with a drip. Never thought it would come to this. Actually, forget that. What has happened to me since I called out the plumber last week is so traumatic that, try as I might to make it more palatable by dressing it up with a Hot Chocolate motif, it’s not going to wash.
As previously reported in this column, my boiler was dripping. A plumber came in and righted the drip by ripping the boiler to pieces. But the next day it started dripping again. So I called him back. ‘It’s all right, it’s just your undulating spivvlethwack valve,’ he said, or some such nonsense, as he cheerfully took it to pieces again.
Three hours and countless trips to buy parts later, he had said ‘it’s all right, it’s just your…’ so many times I was ready to slash my wrists. But he would only have said, ‘It’s all right, it’s just your median antebrachial vein.
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