I'm going to talk about something us men seem to talk about a lot - least I do with my pals and they do with me - and this is "thinking". No not the brain kind of think, the BUM kind of think... Where you strike a pose not unlike a certain statue by Rodin and let things happen... *cough*.
Well, last night I had a curry for tea, I also had about 12 cakes my wife had baked, and I had the whole evening sat down...
So by morning I had a delivery baked and ready to slide... but I could not go, not straight off, I had to get to work, I got here and literally had to dash to the gents...
Now I've spoken about the state of the facilities here before, but they've been done up recently, however as part of the doing up process they've been made more green, first off where there were eight stalls there's now four, and the flushes have gone from capable to feeble. The upshot was me stood there hopping from foot to foot, hot to trot, but with the first stall full of un-flushed paper, the next full of water to the brim not flushing, the third full of a person already mid-think, and the fourth... The Fourth... Erg...
It was full of someone else's floater, the Bristol Stool chart doesn't go into the buoyancy of a think - I think they should, but they don't - but this thing was horrid... I tried to flush it, as clearly its father had before me, but it just surfed the feeble dribble of water these new facilities call a flush and it sat there staring up at me...
I couldn't just bare my bum to it, so a fold of paper... No it just rolled over this and let the paper sink.... But the pressure of a held curry and cakes now insisted I go, so I had to tuck myself into the bowl and ignore this thing staring up as me as I presented my produce... Not nice.
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