My disaster left Himself foaming at the mouth

Goodness knows we could all do with a laugh. I just wish it wasn’t at my expense. Cue disaster at Pearson Towers. I got up early, found the lasagne dish soaking in the sink and had a go at it with a brush. No luck. Impatiently, I put in a good squirt of Fairy Liquid, then added a second for good measure, before putting it in the dishwasher to complete the job.

Veterans of great sea battles and other aquatic disasters will now be on the edge of their seats waving their stick. “Don’t put the dish with the Fairy Liquid in the dishwasher, you fool!” Too late, chaps.

I was at the kitchen table enjoying my first coffee of the day when there came a great grunting moan. Seconds later, another, suggesting extreme digestive difficulties. The dishwasher was not happy.

I opened the door and was hit by a tsunami of suds. A vast foamy white furbelow. I opened my arms wide like a goalkeeper trying to stem the tide. Alas, Gordon Banks I’m not. The dishwasher was frothing furiously, as if Santa’s grotto had been hijacked by malevolent elves and was pumping out a blizzard of fake snow. My mind turned to Himself, Lord Controller of the dishwasher. Oh, God, I was going to be for it.

With a plastic jug I started to transfer suds to the sink. But the suds were reproducing at a faster rate than the coronavirus. I slammed the door shut but the monstrous spume was now bubbling out of the bottom.

Bingo barked furiously, skidding across the lake of suds and crashing into me. I tipped backwards, hitting my leg on the dishwasher door as I fell. Agony.

I decided that I would mop up, start the cycle again and hope for the best before running upstairs to hide.

“Allison, did you notice something wrong with the dishwasher?”

Things are bad when he calls me Allison, not darling. “Goodness, is there?” “Yes, there is. I could almost swear someone had been blonde enough to put washing-up liquid in there.”

It took 12 cycles before the Great Dishwasher Disaster finally abated. Even worse, I had gifted Himself one of those anecdotes which are used forever after in a relationship to prove that the long-suffering spouse lives with a total moron. Blonde?

OK, just a bit.