A double drenching? I’ll take garden leave

Deciding to water the lawn, i connected up my expandable water hose, which has many folds and is shaped like a concertina.

As the water flows, the hose stretches. every time i use it, i half expect it to play a tune! La Mer, perhaps?

With the tap turned on full i twisted the nozzle . . . and nothing happened! i waited patiently, with legs braced ready to impact the full force, like one of those fire brigade heroes in front of an inferno. i started to feel uncomfortable and discovered my trousers were soaking wet. The hose had sprung a leak and water was gushing over me. Forty metres of hose and it decides to leak at that precise point. i dressed for a second time that day, and decided to make a repair. All my efforts were to no avail, failing to stop the leak. i was clearly trying to flog a dead hose! i went to the garden centre and bought a replacement, only to discover that hoses are far more expensive in the summer than in the winter. i returned home and connected up the new one. My wife was now holding the hose. i turned the water tap on full and approached her. She turned towards me, asking, ‘How does one turn it on?’ i told her, ‘By turning the nozzle, but ONLY after making sure that it is facing away . . .’ WHOOSH. Too late. She had already turned it on and i caught the full blast. She couldn’t stop laughing, as apparently i resembled a drowned rat. i dressed for a third time that day and decided enough was enough as my wardrobe was now looking decidedly depleted and, at this rate, i would be finding myself watering the garden in the altogether (NOT a pretty sight). Besides, three showers a day is more than enough for anyone (i vowed i wouldn’t shower again for a month). Shortly after, a hosepipe ban was enforced and, over the following weeks, my new hose and i were forced to watch the lawn slowly transition into the Sahara desert.