The Gasman Cometh

with apologies to Flanders and Swann...lots of them


‘Twas on a Friday evening that I walked into the hall
And as I passed the toilet, well I couldn’t breathe at all.
I summoned all the family to try and trace the cause,
We decided it was gas aseeping from the bathroom wall.

Oh it all makes work for the working Dad to do.

He turned off the gas cylinder and tried to find the leak.
He groped about inside the wall and couldn’t find the break
He said the wall was 2 feet thick; the pipe was 10 yards long.
And that he couldn’t mend it ‘cos it was plumbed in all wrong.

Oh it all makes work for the working Dad to do.

On Saturday he gathered all his hammers and his drills.
He made a hole right through the wall and found the pipes, but still,
He couldn’t tell the water from the gas pipes in a bunch,
And if he cut the wrong one it was no wash and no lunch…

Oh it all makes work for the working Dad to do.

He had a fine idea to turn on the hottest tap
Then he could feel the pipe and know the gas one was not that.
It left him with a choice of two, where could the gas pipe hide?
He took a chance, he cut a tranche and luck was on his side.

Oh it all makes work for the working Dad to do.

So after two days cooking on a little camping stove
With tempers frayed and soup unmade, the chef was turning mauve.
Relief was not too far away, although all hope was gone
And ‘twas on the Sunday morning that the gas was turned back on.


I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what came over me. I promise it won’t happen again.
No more doggerel – really – I mean it.