ALL my life old people have cautioned me not to bust my foo-foo valve.
If only one of them had actually told me what a foo-foo valve was, I might not have ended up with a backside full of piles.
Ignoring the pain and hoping they'd go away didn't work, just like it didn't work for my hernias, sunspots, blurry vision and noisy neighbours.
Still, I like to give false hope a fair trial before seeking professional help.
So recently I found myself lying on a small table with my pants around my ankles while a doctor probed a particularly sensitive part of my body.
"Um, shouldn't you buy me a drink first doc?" I quipped, but he'd heard that one before; about thirty times a day.
Anyway, after plumbing previously unexplored depths, the doctor called his assistant over to have a look, then they discussed various options to tackle the problem.
None of them sounded nice. And you think you've got a crappy job?
What followed was a fairly quick, slightly painful procedure and I lurched from the surgery with one aim in mind; to spend the rest of the day lying on the couch trying not to pass wind, for a change.
But, as is the way of the universe, I arrived home to find our sewer pipe had backed up.
Staggering towards the shed I glared at the sky and muttered, "Wonderful. Fabulous. Oh thank you God!"
Recalling one of the devices in the doctor's surgery, I whipped up a plumbing-type contraption that quickly cleared the blocked pipe without busting my foo foo valve.
It worked so well that I'm actually toying with patenting it, and I hope I my BUTT (Blocked Up Tube Tool) will make piles in the future; of money that is.
Greg Bray blogs at gregbraywriter.wordpress.com. Find him on Facebook: Greg Bray - Writer.
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