The two-legged dogs' attempt to turn their bathroom from a sanitary relic of the Middle Ages into something which left you vaguely cleaner after you left than before you went in?
Yet again, they've outdone themselves.
Now when I pad into the bathroom for a spot of wallowing in the beauty suds and a brisk bit of bikini-line waxing, this is what confronts me:
Something out of Pompeii circa 78AD.
I'm currently hunting e-Bay for a toga fit for a boofhead.
I've circled the Ides of March on the calendar.*
The only good news is that Castigleonfia Firuntinaro - or whatever this village is called - is relatively volcano-free.
In fact, the closest thing to Vesuvius around here is any peto of mine.
* Yeah yeah, history pedants. The original Ides of March fell about 134 years before Vesuvius blew its proverbial cork. Even boofheads are allowed dramatic licence.