Plunger

Ever since we moved into our house we've had problems with the downstairs toilet. It always seems to take multiple flushes to, uh, clear the bowl. My husband, who is known affectionately to our family as "Ten Thumbs" when it comes to home repair, actually replaced the entire interior workings in pursuit of one flush. Poor guy. Even that didn't work. So, no matter how desperate I may be, I run upstairs where one flush guarantees success. But today, I just couldn't do it. I knew I'd never make it upstairs. I reached for the handle and crossed my fingers. Then I reached for the plunger that lives next to the bowl.

By jove, why don't you just try flushing again? (What James Mason was doing in my bathroom was beyond me. But that's exactly who the plunger sounded like - James Mason from "North by Northwest" [see TCM.com].)

P-pardon me? (Not only was I shocked by the voice, but I couldn't help thinking what an awful job it must be for something that sounded so debonair.)

You lot are frightfully quick to reach for the trigger, as it were. (He was frightfully patronizing, as it were.)

Well, I hardly ever use this bathroom so I don't really know the protocol.

So naturally one would assume that one attempt would be sufficient? (I felt he was mocking me.)

Naturally one would. (That second flush he recommended was swiftly being thrown aside for a good, long plunge.)

Not that I object to providing you any necessary assistance, mind you. I was simply considering your time and effort. (Okay, I admit it. The veddy British accent got to me.)

Well, since you put it that way... (I gave the handle another push. The sloshing and whooshing was music to my ears.)

Well done! Superbly enthusiastic attempt! (I didn't know if he was congratulating me, or himself.) Cheerio!

Yeah, right. Cheers.

(From now on, I don't care how desperate I am, I will force myself to run upstairs. The last thing I need is a suave plunger bowling me over.)