Friday, 11 February 2011

Urgh de toilette

I went to the supermarket earlier this evening. When I got there I needed to use the loo so I left Woody in the store & wandered off. The loos were empty but whilst in the toilet cubicle, I heard someone else enter the room & go into the cubicle next door before emitting a huge grunting moan.

"Urgh!" I thought. "That sounds like a fairly strange woman. I'll try to ignore the noise"

More grunting...

"Hang on a minute!" I thought. "That's not a woman. That's a MAN! Jeebus cod! There's a man using the female toilets! How rude!"

Full of indignant outrage I decided to inform a member of staff so the perp could be hauled out & (hopefully) subjected to a good ticking off before being publicly ridiculed for his misdemeanour.

Imagine my surprise then when I yanked open the cubicle door to find another man pissing in the sink. That's right. A MAN WAS PISSING IN THE SINK!

I shrieked and fled back to the safety of my cubicle, slamming my door behind me. "What manner of skullduggery could this be?" I asked myself. "Men? In the ladies toilets? Shocking! Oh, and weren't those sinks an unusual shape?"

Clunk! *Sound of 496526 pennies dropping*

"Holy shit! It's ME! I'm in the wrong toilets!

What can I do? I can't just walk out with a haughty expression on my face. Or can I?

If I stalk out of here with my head aloft and my patented 'eyebrow of disdain' arched tightly across my right brow, will I get away with it? Will I exude such certainty that they question their own choice of toilet? Will they assume they're in the ladies?"

I didn't of course. Instead I cowered in the toilet cubicle fearfully listening to all the nasty, rancid, grunting farty noises and praying that they'd all leave so I could sneak out without any fuss.

I seemed to be there for an age before the panic really set in. Then I started frantically texting Woody to ask him to rescue me from my cubicle. No response.

I texted again. Nothing.

I began to hyperventilate (that could have been a reaction to the horrendous smell though) and texted again. Nothing.

But wait! Sshh! Listen to that...

Could that be silence? Could they really have left?

I opened the door tentatively to be greeted by an empty bathroom. Fantastic! I sneaked out, hoping against hope that there'd be no one outside to witness my shameful error.

Tugging at the door which led back to the supermarket, I was greeted by a frosty faced cleaning lady who had been waiting ages for a 'gentleman' (me) to exit so she could get on with her cleaning duties and behind her, Woody, crying with laughter as he read the texts from his phone.

Oh the shame! Imagine how my face burned, dear reader. And how it burned again when I realised Woody had posted a screen shot of my texts on Twitter later this evening...

Oh and by the way, this is also the day that I accidentally hurled my iPhone from the window of a moving car. One of these days I'll actually get my shit together...

Never mind. At least I've got my holiday to look forward to. We're off to Egypt on Monday. Straight into the riots. Ho ho ho... *sigh*