Holy Crap!

There is something very disconcerting about pointing percy at the porcelain, only to find that the porcelain is piddling back at you. Does this indicate a major biological malfunction, or is something more down-to-earth going on? Seeing as this is not the first time, the simple explanation wins.

Several months ago the other loo had a leak: the rubber thingy that couples that toilet cistern to the pan had perished. Instead of being flushed with pride, the pressing of the button led more to a case of minor leakage. On the floor. Naturally, we blamed the cat, then the chaps. Eventually reality dawned. A simple visit to the local hardware store was in order, we bought rubber thingies for all loos on the grounds that they are all the same age, so one done in, all done in.

There’s nothing I love more than a bit of crapatorial maintenance. So the obvious loo was repaired late one night amidst much mumbling, grumbling, and damaged fingers. Being just a little on the lazy side, the last rubber thingy was shoved to one side and happily forgotten. Until today, when nature called for both me and Mr Loo.

Fitting these suckers requires wedging yourself into the confined space between the wall and dunny pan, peeling back the rubber bits, and removing a bent pipe. Easy! It is fairly easy, actually. Pulling things apart is always easier than getting them back together. But being old and perished, the rubber is falling apart and wet. Black water falls out over you, the wall and the floor. Oh, and did I mention that rubber smells? Not nice. Putting the new thing onto the big lump of pipe is fairly straightforward, but getting the pipe back and all coupled up is damn near impossible. You need to avoid shoving your face into the crapper, whilst trying to see what does not fit, and why, whilst using the triple jointed fingers of midget and wrapping your arms around the pan. By the sixth or seventh attempt, all pretence at avoiding cuddling the loo is over. Give the damn thing a big squeeze, reach around, pull lumps of rubber into place, curse wildly. Success! Then a wash-down.

Such are the joys and entertainments of a weekend morning.


Believe it or not… that rubber thingy is called an “elephant’s foreskin”.

It was the first thing I had to replace when I bought my first house, and I asked the plumber who was on site for other reasons at the time, and he told me that’s what it was called… Naturally I thought he was taking the piss, but he insisted, and sure enough when I went down to the plumbing store and asked for it they knew exactly what I meant!

Comment by Nick | October 26th, 2008 7:21 am | Permalink

Lordy – you’ve painted a rather amusing picture but the smelly ‘elephant’s foreskin’ idea is nearly enough (but not quite) to put me off my chocolate.

Comment by Kath Lockett | October 26th, 2008 7:32 pm | Permalink

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