My life has become centered around other people's balls.
To Ball Or Not To Ball?
My rabbit has suddenly become a lot more frisky than he used to be, and he stinks, so I have been advised by several friends (and veterinary surgeons) to have his testicles removed. My last rabbit, Big Bun, had his bollocks removed, and it transformed him from a playful, interesting pet into a boring, slobbering idiot. In fact, the change was so stark that I considered calling the vet to check that he hadn't performed a labotomy by accident.
Never Mind The Ballcocks...
... is a phrase I wish I'd been able to say this weekend, when, attempting to combat a leaking tank I foolishly snapped the floating ball off my plastic toilet flushing mechanism (following telephone instructions from my Dad, who thought it was made of brass and would therefore 'bend'). I thought I had turned the water off at the mains, and isolated the problem. But I hadn't. Because, as I later found out when I gave in and called a plumber, my flat has two stopcocks. And stopcock number 2 was hidden behind a plastered panel. What kind of flat has two stopcocks? Mine.
Little Balls Made Of Pixels
These are an ongoing source of frustration, as I am getting rubbisher and rubbisher at Nintendo tennis by the day.
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