Boxed in Penis Pain.

Twill shortly be fitting a new bathroom in a 1970’s house. What is it with these people? Everyone knows taps don’t ‘make’ water and loos don’t vaporise wee and poo into an alternative dimension, they’re all connected by pipes to the supply and the sewage system, yet the sight of a naked pipe is as much an anathema as seeing Gandhi’s genitals when his toga or whatever it is is blown skyward like Marilyn Munroe’s dress. Where in old houses waste and soil pipes are on the outside showing a pride of purpose the designers of this 70’s house boxed them in on the inside hoping to prove to anyone stupid enough to believe that they don’t exist. And I’m guessing even now if I leave a visible pipe anywhere it will require boxing in. Good pipe work is a thing of beauty people and hiding them is a plumber’s pain in the pants. I wanted to say arse but it didn’t begin with p, perhaps penis. It’s a form of denial that’s a sure sign of decadence. It’s like covering your arse-wipe paper with a hand knitted tea cosy. But I guess it’s age. I mean when you’re young your insistence on there actually being a good life overrides any realisation of reality with your favourite beliefs whereas when you’re old and heading for incontinence reality dawns and niceties appear as strange as owning a camel. Hay hoe boxing it is then and bugger the plumber’s penis. Oh and as I'm getting a surprising number of reads in Russia I'd love it one of you could post a comment so i know you're a real person. Thanks.