Folks Im sure 2014 was a year some would like to forget and some will remember with fond memories, this was one experience Im sure I will forget......... Grab a coffee and read this because Its forecast to be a wet and miserable old day tomorrow so heres a horrible story to pass the time. Michael Mcmahon Paul Bethune Roger Kelsey Chris Edmonds Chris Hoe Bfg Printing I’d had a pretty dire sort of day. Lunatic drivers, a computer glitch, piss poor phone signal, having to deal with trivial, but time consuming nonsense and a vague, but persistent back ache had all conspired to make me a simmering volcano of rage, but more importantly, for the purposes of this anecdote, it had been over 48 hours since I’d last had a dump. I’d tried hard to kick start the process by having a bowl of arse cleansing fibre cereal first thing, followed by a bottle of prune juice and a bean laden chilli con carne for lunch, but it hadn’t made a jot of difference – or so I thought. However, as I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the escape of the occasional tiny, but horribly smelly fart that movement of gargantuan proportions was on the way. Alas, a text message from the missus involved stopping off at the local Lidl to pick up some groceries. I had completed this task and was on my way back to the car park when I passed a shop with a sign in the window that read “Everything Must Go.” This proved to be prophetic for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a hot, wet emission that everything was indeed, about to go. I hurried, with a growing sense of alarm, to the nearest public conveniences which meant returning to Lidl -rapido. They were clean enough, but the tile grouting looked pretty ancient and the cubicles were those Formica partition affairs with a gap at the bottom and also, at the top. There were three stalls available, the first was occupied, the second was clean, but Toilet Protocol forbade its use because it was next to the one which was already occupied and the third had melted toffee on the seat, or at least, what looked like melted toffee. Clearly, there was no other option; it had to be the second stall. Now normally, I like to download in private and I wasn’t particularly comfortable about being next to the occupied stall with just a thin partition wall to separate us (it already had a crater in it where some perv had tried to gouge a peep hole,) but time was beginning to be of the essence, so I hurried inside and took up residence on the throne. I was just about ready to bear down whilst trying to exercise a little restraint in order to reduce the level of noise I was about to create, when a pretty little melody which I recognized as belonging to one of Handel’s masterpieces started up in the cubicle next door, followed by some fumbling and the well spoken, but irritatingly nasal voice of a man answering the phone to his wife. As usual, for a mobile phone conversation, the man’s voice was exactly 8 decibels louder than it actually needed to be. Instinctively, my starfish snapped shut. Some people talk utter drivel, but Mr and Mrs Surburbia were clearly in a league of their own and he proceeded to blather on and on about the rubbish day he’d had whilst I sat there, gritting my teeth in sufferance and waiting politely for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I realized that he and I were very different. He was just paying a leisurely visit to drop the kids off at the pool, whereas, I was about to detonate something which would shave about 20,000 cubic tons from the ice shelf and drop it into the sea below. I grew more and more irritable and impatient. I’d had a shit day too, but I was too polite to yak about it in public and my stomach was letting me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t get on with it soon, my day was going to get infinitely worse. Finally, my anger and discomfort conspired to overwhelm my sense of shame. I no longer cared. Gripping the toilet roll dispenser with one hand and pressing the other hand flat against the opposite wall, I braced myself and pushed down. I was rewarded with a bowel evacuation which surely managed Richter Scale magnitude. A sort of cross between a flock of pigeons suddenly taking flight and someone ripping a wet bedsheet. After the initial roar, it transitioned into a heavily modulated low RPM tone, a bit like a Harley Davidson ticking over. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall and it vibrated gently. As I caught my breath, three things became apparent: (1) The conversation next door had ended abruptly. (2) I was nowhere near finished. (3) The toilet was now beset by a terrible, eldritch stench. It was worse than as if someone had lifted a drain cover. The foul miasma quickly made its way under and over the stall where its fingers began choking my neighbour - who had remained stunned into silence since my initial “herald” fart had ended his phone conversation in mid sentence. “Oh my God” I heard him splutter. There were barely suppressed sounds of retching, and then, “No darling, that wasn’t me! (Cough, gag) “You heard that??” (Retch.) Now there was no stopping me. The seal was broken and there was little further effort required. I just hung on for the ride. It was awful, but there was nothing I could do except to get it over and done and in any case, my sense of relief was other worldly. Far better an empty house than a bad tenant. Next door however, my neighbour was in crisis mode. I could hear him urgently fumbling with the uncooperative toilet roll dispenser as he desperately tried to escape. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my tuneful endeavours. “ Got to go……….horrible…………..throw up……..in my mouth………..not………make it……….tell the kids………love them……….Oh God.” followed by more sounds of suppressed retching and gagging. Meanwhile, my mood was improving markedly as I suppressed an urge to laugh aloud. Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one’s mobile whilst wiping one’s bum at the same time. Just as my anal allegro was nearing completion, I heard a plop and a splash from next door. It’s always amusing to hear someone who is clearly unused to using foul language, suddenly being driven to do so, but it’s even more hilarious when it’s punctuated by coughing and retching. My poor neighbour had evidently dropped his mobile phone into the toilet bowl. I bit down on my fingers as I tried to laugh soundlessly. There was a momentary lull in my labours and the toilets suddenly became deathly quiet. I could envision the poor bastard standing there wondering what to do, but a final trump from me seemed to be the last straw for him. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock and then his cubicle door was thrown open with a bang. I heard him literally run to the exit and then the piston of the automatic door closer screeched in protest as he yanked it hard open and fled. After a considerable amount of paperwork, I weakly stood to survey the disaster. One flush filled the bowl to the brim and I felt awful for the cleaner who would have to deal with it, but I knew that further flushing wasn’t an option. It would only lead to a floor covered in filth. As I left, I glanced inside the stall next door. There was nothing in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out with a steely resolve and left the toilets with nasty, unwashed hands? The world will never know. I exited the toilets, shameless, relieved and yes, elated even. I suspected that I might spot a green around the gills face glaring at me, but I saw no-one like that. I think I literally blew him away and I can’t imagine that it will be anytime soon before he can bring himself to use a public convenience in the future. I certainly don’t think he’ll ever again use his mobile whilst he’s in the toilet. And this, my friends is why you should never, ever answer your mobile whilst you’re in the loo……………..be warned!
Posted on: Wed, 31 Dec 2014 12:47:06 +0000
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