HELP! How can I get this mussel out?

[JDM625]

Ok, this is the most ridiculous thing! I was scrubbing mussels for dinner lastnight, and one slippery fsucker flew out of my hand and went down the overflow pipe!

I've tried chopsticks, tongs, a knife, bottle brush but due to the angle, nothing is working. I can unscrew the S bend/trap underneath, but the hole within the overflow isn't wide enough to push the mussel through. Maybe I could push it up though?

Any other ideas to get it out before it stinks?

@Redheadedstepchild I'm invested for the next chapter now

@BoiledBeetle Here's how we meet Maurice:

It was dark and quiet in the sewers. The little dinghy floated gently towards her next staging post. Ensign Niall Newt was at the helm and all the other young Ensigns had bedded down for the night.

Froggy found a quiet corner and tried to doze off himself but just as soon as he had closed his eyes, he felt somebody tugging at his shoulder.

It was Niall Newt, gently bioflourescing in the blackness. He looked worried.
"Something amiss a'midships, Laddy?" asked Froggy.
"I think we're going in the wrong direction, Sir." said Niall, nervously, in his soft Ulster brogue.
"How?"
"Will you come up front, Sir?"

Froggy followed Niall to the pilot's seat. A bewildering array of techy nonsense stuff that Froggy didn't understand was flashing and going ping.

"You see here, Sir, that red dot, that's us...so if we keep following this path...by my calculations...we're going to wash up at RAF Albatros.

They both gulped. Froggy was furious. "RAF Albatros! I wouldn't have their weight around my neck as a mariner no matter how ancient I get! They despise our service!"

Niall said nothing.

"It was Salamander who set those co-ordinates wasn't it?" Froggy asked sternly.
"Yes Sir."
"The bastard, the treacherous, slimy, Fionnula stealing bastard! He set a trap for me!"
"Oh no, Sir, I'm sure it was an honest mistake. He's always getting us lost out on manouvres."

A chorus of grunting agreement came from the other Ensigns, who had been woken by Froggy's tirade.

"One time we ended up in Liverpool instead of Hull on a canal exercice!" piped up Norbert Newt.
"Yeah, he only realised his mistake when he saw the Liver building!" chimed in Neville Newt.
"We had to ask directions from some Scouse Seagull chicks."
"Right embarrassing!"
"He had to buy us all beers in the Crazy Crab to shut us up!"
"Ha! Ha!

All the young Ensigns were chattering away now and laughing, comparing examples of Salamander's incompetence.

Froggy breathed a sigh of relief. He had feared mutiny. He gathered his wits and then scrambled up on to the pilot's seat to address his men.

"Look here, chaps. It would appear, either by accident or design that Captain Salamander has set us all on a course to certain death. Now I need you all to swear allegiance to me, as your new Captain.
We need to turn this old tub around and head for somewhere a bit safer. At least for the time being. Is that agreed?"

"Aye Captain!" shouted the young Great Cresteds.

"Right Niall, set a course for Barrow In Furness on your beepity bobbity booboos, whilst I get on the blower to Captain Natterjack at Submarine Toad Command. I need to find out if this Dory character is even real. I don't want to find out that I've been catfished on top of everything else!"

The young Ensigns crowded eagerly around their electronics, inspired by their new Commander.

Some time later, when Froggy had managed to get through to Submarine Toad Command at Barrow and Captain Natterjack had guaranteed them safe passage, the weary crew settled back down to sleep, all apart from Niall and Froggy on the bridge.

"Do you mind if I ask you where you come from, Ensign O'Bream?
"Belfast, Sir."
"Oh, I thought I recognised a bit of an accent."
"Aye."
"Liking your time in the Service, so far? Made friends, that sort of thing?"

Young Niall fell silent and looked pensive.

"Sorry. Being snouty. Shouldn't have asked." apologised Froggy. "Here, have a swig of this. Warm you up, cold night in the sewers and all that." said Froggy, offering Niall a taste of rum from his hip flask.

"Wow, that's strong!" spluttered Niall.
"Mouche de Maurice. French brand. It means Fly of Mauritius in their lingo. Made on the Island of Mauritius from finest distilled insect juice!"

Again, silence fell.

"Do you believe in things being directed by a higher power, Sir?"

"Oh Christ!" thought Froggy, "I hope to God that we're not going to start talking about religion." but then he asked diplomatically, "Do you?"

"Sometimes." replied O'Bream. "Just...when you asked me if I had any friends... I was in two minds about telling you about my only true friend but it's such a long story. Y'see there's this lad I grew up with, we joined up together but we've kind of lost touch now. His name is Maurice! And your drink is called Maurice! Isn't that a strange coincidence?

"It's certainly a rum do," agreed Froggy.

"And Île Maurice or Island of Mauritius, isn't that in the Indian Ocean? Where we're headed to? And where Agent Dory comes from?"

Froggy was a bit freaked out by this. "Tell me about your mate Maurice, Laddy. I'm in the mood for a sea shanty." Froggy drank deep from his silver engraved toddy carrier. He could not help but notice the inscription.

Froggy and Sandy. Captains Together. We made it! 21st June 1996.

He blinked back a tear with his third eyelid.

"I had a good friend once, too." he whispered.

But Niall wasn't listening. "Me and Maurice...known each other since we were knee high to a grasshopper. He was always round our house because he was an only one see... his mammy was on her own with him and had to work so hard...My ma had so many that she said she hardly noticed another one and Maurice was no trouble.

"This a bit close to home," pondered Froggy.

"Anyway we both joined up on the same day and did basic together but Maurice didn't make it into the Squadron. He failed the escape from tight spaces test. Again and again. He couldn't help it. He just kept getting stuck. It was his shell. He could go on crazy diets to lose weight, do laps and laps of the pool to get fitter but he just wasn't made for it."

"Hmn," said Froggy, "Y'see. That's a big part of our job, the slithery element. There are other branches that are just as good and might be a better fit for Maurice."

"Blimey. Why I am saying this?" thought Froggy. "I'm turning into the patronising old fossil that I swore I'd never be."

"Anyway." sighed Niall."I haven't heard from him in six months. It's only a rumour but everybody's saying that he's jumped ship completely, joined the French Foreign Légion and he's in the Moules Marinières in Marseille."

Next chapter: Fionnula's psychedelic past in the Dublin Bay Prawns' Artists' Colony is revealed, plus Captain Natterjack of Submarine Toad Command investigates Dory's back story and a fact finding mission into Maurice's whereabouts in Marseille goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Yes i agree,the long bendy rods you can get for unblocking loos(only buy a new one for the job, Aldi were selling em last wk real cheap) Also, yes a wire coathanger might work, unwound of course.Then DONT do mussels ever again.

Great ideas from previous posters.....in future, in order to avoid this disaster befalling you again in the future... just have cheese toasties for tea! 😂

@Boiledbeetle

I do hope by now that you and everybody else for that matter, have realised that I am deliberately writing heavy handed clichéd nonsense to amuse myself.

Anyway, meet Fionnula. This one's for you, @FionnulaTheCooler

Fionnula FitzNephrop was at a crossroads in her life. She could hardly believe that after all these years she was once again in Dalkey, seperated from Salamander and living back in her old bachelorette flat.

The harsh Dublin Bay sunlight cast its cruel rays through the high windows of her artist's studio in Castle Street, awakening her long before she was ready. Fionnula despised the mornings. In fact, for most of her adult life she'd worked out a way of going on by which she could pretend that they didn’t exist at all.

Extending a languid claw across the bedside table, she checked her phone. Five missed calls from Salmon Rushdie. Was she really getting to be of the age where these dreadful old fish would think she would be honoured to be their, "plus prawn" at the Lobster Festival?

Fionnula forced herself to get up and brewed a strong black beetle coffee. She used the same mug that she washed her paintbrushes in and stirred it with the handle end of a pallet knife she found on the floor. Fionnula didn't care. A bit of turpentide in her first drink of the day was more to be welcomed than shunned in her experience.

"Where had it all gone wrong?" pondered Fionnula.

"Getting married to Salamander, that's where." she reflected.

It had been the Society wedding of the year.

Although she had very nearly got a Fine Arts degree and was working really hard for prestigious New York Gallery for up to two hours a week, Fionnula completely by accident found herself being the most sought after of all the new wave "Aristo chic" models of her generation. Her father being the Viscount FitzNephrop.

The tide was shifting away from the power models of the nineties like Cindy Crawfish and flowing towards the old money, "Oh, I only do this as a hobby" gals. Mostly with enormous eyebrows. There was a brief episode in between when Moss was popular but Fionnula soon put a stop to that nonsense, becoming the new 'Face' of Rimmel and getting the slogan changed to:

"Get the Langoustine Look."

Turned out, Salamander also only did the navy, "As a hobby." as well, being the heir to the vast Loch Ness Estate. Still, he scrubbed up alright in his uniform for the church service and the collar of his jacket did a remarkable job of hiding his lack of chin.

Fionnula was feeling nostalgic, or a bit high. A mixture of acrylic paint, turps and beetle juice first thing in the afternoon will do that to a person with such a long, thin exoskeleton.

She dug out her photo album and turned to the most poignant picture of herself that would ever be taken. She and Salamander kissing under the lych gate of FitzNephrop Castle chapel.

In the background was Captain Froggy. As best man he was also in uniform but wore no colours or medals on his chest. He'd lent them all to Salamander so he would look more impressive on his wedding day.

"Was Froggy the one that got away? Had she been young and reckless, thinking that were plenty more fish in the sea?" mused Fionnula.

She was ashamed to think it but perhaps it was a Different Class thing. She had thought of Froggy as being one of those Common People. "It's just so much Pulp." she
wailed, sobbing into her sea sponge.

She'd come from Greece and had a thirst for knowledge, she studied sculpture at St Martin's College, that's where Froggy caught her eye and in thirty seconds time, she told him that her dad was loaded...

I'm from Dalkey [wipes tear from eye] - what a lovely tribute to Maurice.

@Yogic, @BoiledBeetle and anybody else who can still be bothered.

"In that case, I'll have a rum and coca cola." said Froggy, sitting opposite Captain Natterjack in his office at Submarine Toad Command, Barrow In Furness.

It was very complicated to figure out, Captain Natterjack being so long winded and verbose but in a clamshell, Salamander had gone absolutely fruits de mer over Fionnula moving out, was tired of trying to woo a new woman and was trying to trace his family kelp forest, blue blood being thicker than sea water to his reckoning. Also, he was booked in for knee replacement surgery and there was nobody to look after him.

"So he's claiming me as his long lost half freaking brother, now is he?" cried Froggy, sucking down his rum and coke. The plastic straw ban hadn't seemed to affect Submarine Toad HQ so far. Although Captain Natterjack took a sip of water from a bottle of Lowland Swamp at the same time and nearly took his eye out with the attached cap.

"This Indian Ocean Operation is real though." said Natterjack. "And Agent Dory does work at Diego Garcia. On secondment from the Anzacs. I've checked her out. Was difficult. She has practically no social media. The last we could find of her was some bizarre thread on an obscure website about neighbours letting their coral get overgrown and obstructing her...oh, I didn't have the patience to read it all. Anyway, she floundered off and deleted her profile.

"Feisty!" thought Froggy.

"Seeing as you didn't go to RAF Albatros as instructed, the only way to get you chaps to Garcia is by sub. First stop Marseille. Then we hand you over to the Moules Marinières." sighed Captain Natterjack. "I can't do anything more after that. It will be in the hands of NATO. North Atlantic Toad Organisation.

"Oh, don't worry." said Froggy with a wry grin. "We have connections."

"A French Connection?" spluttered Natterjack.

"Loose lips ship sinks" called Froggy over his shoulder, placing his square rig at a jaunty angle as he swaggered out of Natterjack's bureau, thinking himself very profound.

Next chapter: A Yellow Submarine and an Octopus's Garden In The Shade.

@Redheadedstepchild

I posted at the start of this thread but just caught your recent additions.

What I LOVE about it, is that I'm an ex Dalkey resident, plus I once came out of the bakers at the same time as Salmon Rushdie came out of Thyme Out with his stunning girlfriend during the book festival.

So frankly I think your writing is genius.

Mwah

I can remember the Exchange bookstore before it became Thyme Out - I left in 2007 but grew up there ❤️

I hope I'm not being disrespectful to Maurice's sad end diverting the thread here

@Yogic lucky you. People who have never been to Dalkey find it impossible to understand how special it is.

#RIP Maurice.

I know. My parents lived there all their lives and, on a whim, moved nearer to my sister in Australia when they retired. They are in an anonymous suburb on the other side of the world regretting their move.

It's a beautiful town (not a village 😉😁)

Maurice would have been happy in the harbour, looking out to the Muglins, but it was not to be.

I'll never look at a Belfast sink the same way again.