JOHN MARTIN

A couple of years ago I made fun of an in-law who got himself locked in the toilet. I forgot all about karma!

Last week the same thing happened to me.

But worse.

The builders renovating our house had to rip out both our bathrooms, which meant we had to find alternative accommodation.

We still spent most of the day at the house though and dashed to the local shopping centre when we had to use the loos.

This worked well until it didn’t one day last week.

When I tried the lock it was stuck. I tried and tried. I waited for someone to come in so I could ask for help. But no one did. I didn’t even have a newspaper to read.

But luckily I had my phone, so I messaged my wife.

I would have phoned but I knew she had left home to give blood. So I didn’t want to interrupt her at an inconvenient time. She’s saving lives, I’m just locked in a convenience.

I was lucky. She hadn’t gone in and called the local hairdresser. She went next door to a restaurant and fetched the chef.

Before I knew it, I had two lady hairdressers and a burly chef outside the door asking if I was OK. It was a tad embarrassing. I know them all.

“I’ll have you out in a jiffy,” the chef said.

Sure enough, the lock turned and the door swung open.

I was so happy to see him I nearly shook his hand.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“I’m not just a chef.”

Right, and I bet he doesn’t share the secret of his recipes.

Clearly, he had tools. A whisk? A spatula? A cheese grater?