Unlock your Style, or Unlock your Dunny.

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Have you ever been stuck in  lift? It is my worst nightmare, as well as treading on a snake. Or sitting next to Fred Nile on a flight to London.

Anyway, here up at Jabba we have had a little issue with the toilet. Our toilet is the hardest working thing at Jabba the Hut, especially when there are multiple families in residence. I have written about it before.

Yesterday morning Cousin Rosie went to use the facilities when the door knob got jammed. It was so stuck. Mr Woog was back in Sydney, not that he would have been much use to be honest. I was beginning the panic.

I went out into the street and saw Neil from across the road, toiling away in his garden. He is an elderly man, yet the type who is tall, wiry and fit. With panic in my voice, I asked him to come and have a look at the door, to see what can be done. I am lucky that Rosie is a placid soul and was not inclined to panic, as one might tend to do.

Neil came over and spent some time fiddling with the knob. After about 20 minutes, Rosie was free! Neil suggested that I tape the door jam shut until we could get it fixed. I agreed that it was a very sensible thing to do, before the entire conversation exited my head.

A few hours later and my lovely friend Nikki Parkinson turned up with her family. She is finishing the end of a long road trip, and needed a place to rest her glamorous head for the night. She had been busy promoting her new book, Unlock Your Style, on this particular road trip.

“The bathroom door is stuffed…” I told them, “So shut the door but don’t close it.”

But because I said BATHROOM and not TOILET, Parko goes to the latrine and as sure as shit, promptly locks herself in.

The kids ran over to get Neil, but he was gone.

Mr Styling You had a go at the door, but was seeming to make it worse. I called BabyMac’s Dad, who lives around the corner. He came over with his wife Angela, who was carrying a set of pliers. After about an hour, we realised that we had to call in the professionals.

But in the meantime, how could I assist my friend in these troubling times? Why I shoved a VOGUE under the door and pried the window screen open enough to pass through a flute of champagne. I mean, if you are going to be stuck in a funny, you might as well do it with some sort of style, right?

I put a call into the first locksmith that came up in my Google search. A shootout to Adam from Featon Locksmiths who could hear the desperation in my voice. He turned up a short time later. That knob was completely fucked! It took him 30 minutes to free Nikki, by which time the rest of the champers had been drunk.

He then went on to fix the mechanism, and now we can abloute with confidence again! YAY FOR ADAM!

YAY!

YAY!

Have you ever been locked in somewhere?

Who saved you?