There’s been a hideous whiff seeping from the bathroom sink for the last few weeks. Initially, nobody acknowledged it because that would mean having to take responsibility for sorting it out. But every time someone flushed, a funky skunk smell filled the room.  

First thoughts were that my husband had been going heavy on the beans or that the cat might have sought an alternative to the garden. But then I noticed the pong wasn’t animal or person specific. So I asked Siri: ‘why does my plughole stink?’ but I think she misheard because it all got a bit weird. When I poured some foamy sink freshener down, that only masked the situation. 

Eventually, we had to admit defeat. One of us needed to go down there and retrieve the rotting whatever. It was never going to be me. Through gritted teeth Sam scheduled the following Saturday to pull up the floorboards. To show willing, and knowing how much he loves a gadget, I suggested holding off on tearing the lino and trying a tool from the internet first. He didn’t need much persuading and treated himself to a plumber’s snake. 

It had a good spec – a 12mm diameter auger, an ergonomic pistol grip and a rotating handle. Reviews were solid, with a chap called Yaric wishing he could give it more than five stars because for just £10 he’d saved himself a call-out fee and the need to dissemble his U-bend. All we had to do now was wait for the reptilian repair kit. 

Paranoia was kicking in. I began wondering if the noxious fumes might actually be damaging our health. I mean, something that bad can’t sit well on the lungs, surely. And once I got that niff in my nostrils, I thought I could smell it everywhere. I kept thinking it was clinging to my clothes, so took to sniffing my sweatshirt and inhaling the cat as he passed. It’s not like we were expecting guests, but what if the Hermes guy thought I’d let one fly in the porch when he scanned the parcel on the step? 

Working from home, there was no escape. In desperation I decided to take matters into my own hands and chucked half a bottle of bleach down the hole, just to see if I could corrode it into submission. At least if it burned through the duct, the offending object would slip out, I reasoned. And guess what? It only flaming well worked. Within half a day, my airwaves and the pipe were free. The monster had either melted, dislodged or died but whichever, I’m very glad it slung its hook.  

The plumber's snake arrived though. I unwrapped it and Yaric was right. The grip was indeed the most ergonomic I’d ever experienced. I would have probably given it five stars too, had I needed it. But I’ll have to wait until I accidentally drop a cotton bud down the sink again. Ooops. Sorry Sam.