For god's sake woman, don't do it!
Blah student blah ten boys in the house etc etc etc

My girlfriend stayed over most nights, and was suitably exasperated by the grotty fetidness us cock-sporters seemed happy to nest in.

Most of all though, she hated the shower.

It didn't seem too bad to the men of the house. A tiny room with a tiled floor, and a raised, pitted square to stand in and shower. No mats or rugs to worry about. The problem, though, was that after several months living there the water wasn't draining down the plughole. So by the end of your wash you'd be ankle deep in tepid water. My girlfriend found this repulsive, and resolved to fix it. How?

"I'll use a fork."

I'm actually starting to boke right now, remembering this.
A handful of us man-children crowded round the open doorway as my girlfriend, bright as a button and clad in marigolds, got down on her knees (steady ...), and confidently jabbed a dinner fork down the plughole. After a few inches it met resistance, so she pushed harder (just stop it, you filthy buggers), and whatever was down there slowly yielded to the prongs. My housemates and I just stared wordlessly, waiting. With grim determination, she started to twist the fork round and round, and if you listened, you could hear something happening – like a tiny wellington boot lifting itself out of some mud.

twist, squelch, twiiiiist, squeeeeelch ...

"Right, that should do it," she finally announced, and with us looking on silent with anxiety, she pulled on the fork. It started sliding up slowly at first, then all too quickly, it burst out with a plop, and my poor, helpful girlfriend was left squatting there holding ... something. It's still hard to compute to this day. Afterwards, over strong coffee and spliffs, we referred to it as "the Devil's pasta". It was definitely grey, and glistening. It was as though someone had put a large, rotting rat corpse through a mincer, then spent a good hour spitting snot over it, before helpfully forcing it into our plumbing and sealing it in with week-old spunk. It certainly smelt like this was the case.

That was the first and only time that I've seen an inanimate object make a grown-up puke. God bless her though, she went back and bagged it up. Us men couldn't help. We were hiding in our rooms within 30 seconds of that fucking thing seeing the light of day.
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Fri 26 Mar 2010, 10:35, 4 replies)

Trying to resist as it's just so gross but....
*click* for 'The Devil's Pasta'
( Poppy The Platypus was abducted by an army of toast soldiers on, Fri 26 Mar 2010, 10:53, closed)

Matted pubes, dead skin, soap, etc.
But "Devil's Pasta" sounds so much cooler, so *click*
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Fri 26 Mar 2010, 16:39, closed)

Use vinegar and bicarb of soda instead..
You can do it the way you say - either poking something like a fork, or undoing the pipe and washing it out (foul). Doing it that way is definitely my least favourite household chore, ever.

The best way is to put a few tablespoons of bicarb of soda down the plughole, then follow it with a number of cups of cheap malt vinegar. It fizzes attractively and once it's stopped fizzing down the waste pipe, follow it with hot then cold water. All sorted, no problem :)
(syllopsium, Mon 29 Mar 2010, 11:23, closed)

Ah, the traditional gentlemans shower Beozar - spunk and hair matted together till it causes a blockage.
(Benzyl, Wed 31 Mar 2010, 22:55, closed)