I am not sure my house project can get any worse. Drainage failures again. Nasty one though. Quick - call dyno-rod. Third time in a month!
Am I eating too much fibre?
Yuk. Yuk. Yuk. Fortunately my constuction engineers saw my side and a fellow was despatched poste-haste. I am now refusing to return home until It is clean, tidy and fully functional.
I shall take rooms in South London and seek solace in liquour.
A gentleman should never have to deal with this, but being a chap-about-empire, one can face such horrors with fortitude and resolution. And rubber gloves, of course.