(to the tune of music hall classic When Father Papered the Palour)
Father hacksawed the toilet, but he’d no right to do so
Hah-hah-hah-hah-hah
Dee-dah-dee-lam-dee-dah-dah-dah
Hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah
Our toilet seat wanted removing
And Pa says it was stuck
Due to all the wee on the seat
And so he cursed and swore
He got his hacksaw out
Two spanners and a wrench
And with a terrible frown on
At it he made a rush
When Father hacksawed the toilet
You couldn’t see Pa for rust
Sawing it here and sawing it there
There was rust and plastic everywhere
Mother was hiding in the kitchen
And the kids were rolling on the floor
You never saw such a bloomin’ family
So stuck up before
Dum-dah-dum-dah-dah-dah
Hah-hah-hah-hah
What d’you think of poor old Father?
Hah-hah-hah-hah
Diddle-dee-di-dee-di-doh
Hah-hah-hah-hah
You never saw such a bloomin’ family
So stuck up before
Lah-dah-dum-dah-dah-dah-dah
Hah, that’s the part I like
Hah-hah-hah-hah
On Saturday I spent an unproductive couple of hours trying to remove a toilet seat that our five year old had done his best to permanently weld on using nothing but the power of urine. He’d managed to wee over the hinge so much the head of the screw was gone and the thread, all the way down to the bottom, was severely rusted. The removal job was made harder by the contortion required to reach behind/underneath the bowl to get to the nut on the bolt that held the seat on. That’s a couple of hours of my life I’ll never get back and in future I think it would probably be easier to get a plumber in to change the whole toilet suite or simply move house.
Two long hot showers later, I was still convinced my hands smelled of wee. It took an excessively stiff drink to shift the smell from my nose…