Desperate Times
Stranded in a hotel in an African war zone with no internet access for two weeks, I was forced to resort to desperate measures. Possessing only my passport and the clothes I stood up in; and the warning "You can catch it shaking hands with a vicar out there" ringing in my ears, I had to draw my own porn in order to preserve my sanity.
Alas, it all came out looking like Coronation Street's Audrey Roberts, but, as they say, any port in a storm.
What have you done in times of great desperation?
( , Thu 15 Nov 2007, 10:10)
Stranded in a hotel in an African war zone with no internet access for two weeks, I was forced to resort to desperate measures. Possessing only my passport and the clothes I stood up in; and the warning "You can catch it shaking hands with a vicar out there" ringing in my ears, I had to draw my own porn in order to preserve my sanity.
Alas, it all came out looking like Coronation Street's Audrey Roberts, but, as they say, any port in a storm.
What have you done in times of great desperation?
( , Thu 15 Nov 2007, 10:10)
« Go Back
Hard rockin
Another toilet confession i'm afraid.
As a stinky student in Liverpool I had eaten something dodgy and received a nice case of food poisoning. Following a weeks confinement I started to feel like I could finally make it out - even got my appetite back which must show things had 'left the building' for good. We went out and visited a local rock pub/club and having had a few ales decided on one of their tasty and highly nutritious pizza's that they served from a hole in the wall near the toilets! Well after a week of barely eating and a few beers it was like mana from heaven.
Lets just say that about an hour later came the initial contractions and labour pains. The waters hadn't broken but it was definately on the way.
I scampered to toilets to find what wasn't too disimilar to the toilet in train spotting - no bog roll or lock on the door and a crowd of rockers all milling around the urinals.
It was too much to bare though, I had to get into a position that would 'aim' at the toilet and also keep the door shut before spraying a hefty cloud of rusty water (with the odd chunk) in the general direction of the bog. Within seconds I had attracted the attention of the rockers who were now listening intently to the howling whistle and splattering that was sounding from my cherry bomb exhaust. If it hadn't been the sheer relief I would have been quite scared. Fortunately the CS gas like vapour zone that had now been created was quickly dispersing the rockers. I then had to wipe up by using an old kcf napkin I had in my jeans pocket and make a quick exit trying to look nonchalant, while walking with a slight mince to avoid moist cheek chaffing.
To his credit the taxi driver home didn't say anything but I think he needed to buy a new magic tree air freshner the next day.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 8:50, 2 replies)
Another toilet confession i'm afraid.
As a stinky student in Liverpool I had eaten something dodgy and received a nice case of food poisoning. Following a weeks confinement I started to feel like I could finally make it out - even got my appetite back which must show things had 'left the building' for good. We went out and visited a local rock pub/club and having had a few ales decided on one of their tasty and highly nutritious pizza's that they served from a hole in the wall near the toilets! Well after a week of barely eating and a few beers it was like mana from heaven.
Lets just say that about an hour later came the initial contractions and labour pains. The waters hadn't broken but it was definately on the way.
I scampered to toilets to find what wasn't too disimilar to the toilet in train spotting - no bog roll or lock on the door and a crowd of rockers all milling around the urinals.
It was too much to bare though, I had to get into a position that would 'aim' at the toilet and also keep the door shut before spraying a hefty cloud of rusty water (with the odd chunk) in the general direction of the bog. Within seconds I had attracted the attention of the rockers who were now listening intently to the howling whistle and splattering that was sounding from my cherry bomb exhaust. If it hadn't been the sheer relief I would have been quite scared. Fortunately the CS gas like vapour zone that had now been created was quickly dispersing the rockers. I then had to wipe up by using an old kcf napkin I had in my jeans pocket and make a quick exit trying to look nonchalant, while walking with a slight mince to avoid moist cheek chaffing.
To his credit the taxi driver home didn't say anything but I think he needed to buy a new magic tree air freshner the next day.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 8:50, 2 replies)
Was this the Krazy House by any chance?
If so, then I think messing in your trousers would have been the better choice having seen (read "waded through knee-deep urine towards") the toilets there.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 12:49, closed)
If so, then I think messing in your trousers would have been the better choice having seen (read "waded through knee-deep urine towards") the toilets there.
( , Fri 16 Nov 2007, 12:49, closed)
It's never good to be without TP
I am lactose intolerant and stupidly drank a milkshake while driving in the desert. I had to stop for an emergency dump behind a prickly bush. With nothing to wipe with, I then saw an old crackly brown paper bag snagged on a cactus. Who knows where it had been, what it had contained, or who had touched it. I promptly wiped with it. I heard a Nelson-like laugh, and turned to discover, to my horror, that while I was hidden from traffic coming one way, that I was indeed half visible to people driving the other, such as the laughing biker. He almost fell off his bike as he sped by while laughing his ass off.
( , Sat 17 Nov 2007, 2:48, closed)
I am lactose intolerant and stupidly drank a milkshake while driving in the desert. I had to stop for an emergency dump behind a prickly bush. With nothing to wipe with, I then saw an old crackly brown paper bag snagged on a cactus. Who knows where it had been, what it had contained, or who had touched it. I promptly wiped with it. I heard a Nelson-like laugh, and turned to discover, to my horror, that while I was hidden from traffic coming one way, that I was indeed half visible to people driving the other, such as the laughing biker. He almost fell off his bike as he sped by while laughing his ass off.
( , Sat 17 Nov 2007, 2:48, closed)
« Go Back