Thanks for the many enquires I’ve had into the current situation as regards my plumbing problems; for those of you still worried that I may be drowning in my own excrement, I’m pleased to say that Ambassador Property Management sent somebody to sort out the problem after a mere two days of pestering phone calls, and we now have a new toilet which doesn’t sluice our own shit into the hallway.
On the other hand, in spite of assurances that the shit-encrusted hole in our hallway ceiling would be repaired, and that the shit-encrusted lino in our bathroom would be replaced, and our sewage-soiled carpet would be scrubbed, nothing further seems to have happened. And there’s only so many phone calls you can make before it started to feel like somebody is taking the piss.
Yesterday we discussed the possibility of sending a Christmas card to Ambassador, perhaps containing a subtle reminder about our problems. We came up with various messages that managed to combine Christmas with sewage, but the following are my current favourites:
Ding dung merrily on high
I saw three shits come sailing in â€“ through the hole in our ceiling
This is the shit sent from above
Deck the hall â€“ with shit
Shit had fallen, shit on shit, shit on shit (after Christina Rossetti)
How silently, how silently, the shit drips through our ceiling
Iâ€™m dreaming of a brown Christmas
When Santa got stuck up the chimney…at least we had a second hole in our ceiling for ventilation
Or perhaps the most pointed in the circumstances:
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…sewage-related hepatitis B