Lost in Translation

I'm back in the City. No crazy Lady Pumpernickel. Not dirt-speckled country butter. The Husband is being remarkably well behaved. So all in all running a little low on humorous matter for you.

Although my father did amuse me with a little snippet of South African bureaucracy. The manhole cover outside my parents' driveway has been missing for some time now, probably stolen for scrap metal. My father being a diligent man, worried about stray car wheels and pets falling down the manhole and sought to rectify the situation. He phoned the local municipality to explain his issue:

Father: Hello, I'd like to report a missing manhole cover.
Municipal Worker 1: Eish, wrong department. Hold please.

*Transferred Call*

Father: Ah, hello, I'd like to report a missing manhole cover in my road.
Municipal Worker 2: Hullo? Eish, wrong department.

*Transferred Call*

Father: Hello, I'd like to report a missing manhole cover, please.
Municipal Worker 3: Oh, wrong department.

*BEEEEP*Dial Tone* [Exasperated Father holding lifeless phone to Lug]

Despite this farce being repeated numerous times my Father is not a quitter. Employing the old 'If you pull the Tiger's tail you had best hold on for the ride' spirit he phoned again. This time he was greeted by a Female Municipal Worker:

Female Municipal Worker: Eh, Hello?
Father: Oh, hello there I wonder if you can help me? I'm having problems with my MANHOLE COVER...
Female Municipal Worker: OOH, MY GOD!

*BEEEP*Dial Tone [Shocked worker hangs up on bamboozled Father]

One can only assume that this sensitive lady misheard my Father and assumed he had problems with his MANHOOD COVER. Clearly being quite unprepared to discuss problematic foreskins in the workplace, and being a particularly religious individual she dealt with his perversions as best she could, employing the Oh-dear-we-appear-to-have-been-cut-off-technique favoured by South African Public sector workers.

Needless to say the manhole remains uncovered.