The Many Faces of Plumbing.

I have heating again - hurrah! I have hot water again - double hurrah! That should be enough to delight me, what with the visible return of my genitals and the disappearance of the flies which have been following me since the boiler packed in, but there is always a downside.
The manner of my reconnection to the civilised world has left me both embarrassed and feeling like Jade Goody's thicker brother.
Boiler Man was supposed to have called round last night but he obviously got tangled up in his slippers and thought better of it, finally agreeing to call between 10am and 1pm today. Anyway, at 2.30pm, as ice was beginning to form on the ice on the inside of my windows, I rang to find out what the Hell was happening, which prompted the bringer of heat to show up 15 minutes later.
He took one look at my ageing boiler (no, not her!) and then, being obviously an observant sort, clocked that I was "a bloke" and so felt compelled to launch into "technospeak". "Well, I mean, it's more than likely your flange grommet, or probably the interconnecting crosshead bilge nodule," he told me authoratitively (well, that's what it sounded like!!). "Yeah, the nodule on the Chill Destroyer 9000 was pre-1980 and so the crosshead vent is just 4 mill out on the throughput. Have you got a Dynogrip 640 installation socket, OBVIOUSLY with a 16.4 amp thrunge diode? I mean, that will OBVIOUSLY trip it but if you haven't we're looking at re-routing the manual, setting up a by-pass on the trundle sprocket and then wiring it in with a Supaseal 560 blimph."
I am a dumbass when it comes to anything even approaching fixing, making or assembling things (see previous post on DIY) but I would challenge anybody to understand what the fuck this alien was on about. Instead of answering him I just adopted a very imbecillic-looking, blank face, lolled my tongue out of the corner of my mouth and began dribbling (the nearest I can find to it is the photo above). Boiler Man instantly realised that I was not a REAL MAN and so did not understand him. As a result, he went into the ptich I assume he thought should be used when talking to women. "It's probably a problem with the water circulation," he said, very slowly and patronisingly. "The water is heated by the boiler and circulates round the radiators, you see, so the circulation has got to be ok." His change of approach once again went over my head and more inane faces, tongue-lolling and dribbling followed, but this time my eyes opened wide and stared maniacally at him. I think this genuinely shocked him and he was probably wondering how I managed to walk and chew at the same time when he opted for his final tactic - the "imagine-you're-talking-to-a-brain-damaged-chimp" approach. "See this little red button?" he shouted, in staccato fashion. "Hmm, do you see it? Yes? You do? Are you sure? Well, it's called the re-set button. Yes, it IS a big word. Well, if we press Mr Re-set then Mr and Mrs Hot Water and all their lovely, snuggly radiators will come back from their holidays."
He promptly pressed "Mr Re-set" and the sodding boiler fired up instantly! Boilerman then quickly closed his case of tools and backed out towards the front door before turning quickly on his heel and jogging to his van.
I had obviously exhausted his repertoire and he is no doubt now in therapy. I, on the other hand, feel dumb and humiliated but there is a bright side - I have the marvellous image still in my mind of Boiler Man's gradually changing face, tone and talk as he realised he had to keep sliding down and down the ladder of evolution if he was to make himself understood.
Technospeak shall, henceforth, be the language of Grantham but they will never have IQ-adaptable plumbers.