Panic in Faversham

We took a day trip up to Faversham to look at the house that my brother and his wife are going to buy. We went through the rooms as they made their appraisal. Having left their house in Peckham quite early in the morning I hadn't had a chance to go to the toilet for my morning 'delivery' and by the time we reached this picturesque Elizabethan town I was fit to burst. Later, as we wandered through the quaint Edwardian house they were considering, I seized my moment, politely pushed past the eager young estate agent and locked myself into the downstairs bathroom to take my ease. As they were all standing just outside the door it was quite difficult to really 'let go', so to speak. But finally I managed to deliver all of my steaming compost into the bowl. Having completed the task, I then stood and pulled the flushing chain. Nothing happened. I flushed again, and again nothing happened. And there it all sat in the bowl, glistening insolently back at me. I had a panicky vision of having to push the stinking mass down the pipe with my foot. But then a miracle happened and the toilet flushed magnificently. Appears there was some sort of time-delay on the lever.

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