Strike It Lucky

I’ve been called out to fix a few swimming pools in my time. Rich nobs with more money than sense leave something floating in their pools that gum up the works. Lilos, towels, hair, rubber items of various uses, you name it I’ve had to retrieve it from the filtration system.

But I have to admit in all my days I’ve never found a dead body bunging up the drain. How unlucky is that. That poor Michael Barrymore. He didn’t exactly strike it lucky, did he?

You invite a few friends around for a swim and a cup of tea and next thing you know the police are ruining your lawn. How was Barrymore to know that young man couldn’t swim while unconscious?

I’m sure Michael called out “All right?” a few times and would have responded immediately if told help was required. He couldn’t have jumped in to save him though because, as Mr Barrymore says,
he can’t swim. We just have to accept that he is telling the truth about that. Michael, president of his local swimming club, has no reason to lie.

Other than the fear of going to jail for a very long time. It strikes me that people are giving Barrymore a hard time just because he is manosexual. They really should get off his back.

Although I must admit to being confused when Barrymore talks about “My kind of people”. Does he mean woofters or drug addicts? My only gripe with Mr Barrymore is not that he is a friend of Dorothy but that he is a shite entertainer. He always reminded me of that early review of Fred Astaire. “Can’t act. Can’t sing. Balding. Can dance a little.” The only difference is that Mr Barrymore can’t dance. My other grumble is that no-one is thinking of the poor plumber in all this. Sure they are sorry for the boy and his family and there’s a few tears for Michael but who has worried about the tradesman? He’s the one who has to backwash the filter. I wish people would learn that there is no only so much strain that a strainer basket can take. They are just not designed to handle corpses.

What was needed here was a bit of forward planning. The good homeowner calls in his plumber before there’s a problem. The bad homeowner calls the plumber in after it’s all gone to buggery. And as I always say, if it’s true in plumbing then it’s true in life.

Next time Michael, call in the plumber before the body clogs up your pool. The strainer basket will be eternally grateful.

Plumb on.

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