The stuff of nightmares.
There is an escutcheon, an o-ring, a bearing washer and a diverter that are conspiring against me. Their accomplices, a rusted mounting bracket and its attendant nut, hide like cowards amongst the verdigris and oxidation. Opportunistically abetted by narrow clearances, they mock my every attempt to reach them. I have exhausted all available resources and must now take measures of last resort.
If these bastards think I do not know where to buy a strap wrench they have another thing coming.