A Most Horrific Experience

Having stayed on in Bristol for a post-work drinkie last night, I came to realise just why I don't normally partake of such activities.

Having arrived at the bus-stop in plenty of time for the 18.35 bus home, I waited approximately 1 hour for a bus... The 18.35 did not turn up and the bus due at 19.10 sumply drove past with no regard for the half-dozen or so people frantically waving at it it.

All this time, having imbibed a pint or two of fluids in the pub, I was becoming more and more desperate for a wee. Busting, in fact.

When it reached 19.45 (the bus due at 19.35 simply didn't arrive), I decided enough was enough and phoned my personal chauffer (otherwise known as the Vickster) and pleaded for a collection service. To my relief, she agreed. Actually, relief was brobably the wrong word... if I'd been busting for a pee at 19.10, half an hour later, the contents of my bladder was reaching critical mass.

Fortunately, as I made my way to the designated rendezvous point, I noticed that the public convenience on Rupert Street was open for business. Thus I began the titular Horrific Experience.

The WC was dimly lit and the floor slippery with... er... well I'm not sure what it was slippery with and I don't think I want to know what it was slippery with (it was a thick viscous white fluid ansd ther was loads of it) - anyway, I made my way across this slippery deathtrap to the one cubicle with a door in it, shut myself in, bracing my feet against each side of the cubicle... the floor was so awash with... er... fluid that I would have been unable to stand otherwise and performed the requisite bodily function as quickly as possible. unfortunately, with 2 pints of coke in it, quickly was actually quite a long time.

During this time, two people entered the toilets. now anyone that's been in the centre of Bristol on a friday knight will know exactly why I was somewhat nervous. Kacking myself, to be accurate. I simple kept quiet and got on with the business at hand in the hope that I would not draw attention to myself.

Anyway... whatever these two lads were doing, it involved a ton of bog-roll (not real loo paper, the tracing paper stuff that is of no use to man nor beast) and what sounded like a very full tool bag.

Soon enough, they left. I waited a few moments, then departed myself - almost, but not quite slipping and landing on my face in the nameless horror that was the floor. I then made my way to the bottom of the Trenchard Steet car park, where I made myself look as big and scary as I could, so no-one would bother me. I doubt I looked big and scary, but no-one bothered me.

Vic came and rescued me a few minutes later. I love you Vic!