Like a kick in the plumbs
OK, so I know there's much MUCH worse things going on in the world right now, but still, there's a tiny little bit of strife within my own little hermetically-sealed pleasure dome that I have to get off my chests.
Following Bastard Barry's non-appearance (to recap click HERE), and Tossbag Tommy's utter lack of interest in securing himself a plumbing job, we had arranged for Mr Nunn to come out this very night to get a quote for our shower repair/replacement. Nunn-too-reliable more like. Do you see?
I don't want to sound like an utter wanker by ranting about the appalling work ethic that stains this country like a bitch-dog-in-heat stains a lawn, but after our recent experience with plumbers - which has left us sans-douche and out of our home for nearly a month now - I'm beginning to get a little bit frustrated.
In fact, I might have to take up an evening course and enter the plumbing business myself. I'll join the Plumbing Trade Union. I want to make a difference. I want to shake the idle sods up.
Two millenia back, when the Romans were using lead ("plumbum") within their plumbing, I'm sure that Cornelius et al never ended up with some cowboy plumber doing a botch repair job on their piping to the laconicum. Probably because cowboys hadn't been invented back then. No matter, if they had they'd throw Nunn, Barry & Tommy to the lions, make no mistake. And I want no less than that.
Yes, I want to eliminate the slack chancers that are ruining the good name of plumbing. I want to overhaul the whole culture and framework surrounding British plumbers.