“We’ve hit a HITCH,”Stan shouted, his head poking up from out of the hole in the ground. Normally he had rather a pale complexion, but today it was puce, and he was sweating profusely.
Bertha couldn’t for the life of her understand what was going on, but it seemed to be something to do with drains and Water Boards. It all seemed a bit OBTUSE to her. But she was used to Stan peering up at her from holes in the ground. He and holes seemed to have an attraction for one another. She had lost count of the number of holes that had suddenly apeared in their garden, always occupied by Stan.
Usually, whatever was going on in the hole, Stan managed to deal with. But this one was different. No longer was he in his element, but was sporting the most anguished face she had ever seen. It was obvious, he was beat.
Just then, Cyril, from up the road, walked by.
“What’s up mate?” he inquired, seeing the puce coloured face peering up at him.
“It’s the stop cock,” Stan replied. “I can’t turn it off.”
“Here, let me have a look,” said Cyril.
In a trice, he saw what the problem was.
“You’ve been turning it the wrong way mate.”
In all his years of inhabiting holes, Stan had never done anything so stupid and dumb before. But boy, was he pleased that Cyril had spotted the problem.
“Thanks mate. You’re a STAR,” said Stan.