A messy one this.....

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Dave

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On the last night in Australia (early 80's) we went to the Kings Cross area for a few farewell beers. One of the group was a bit of a drinker – his dad was a Glaswegian headbutter when he'd had a few and he'd inherited some of his genes. He was getting all stroppy and saying that we should nuke Argentina over the Falklands ! The pubs got seedier as the night went on. Last place was more than a bit of a dive. I took a leak. As I turned round I noticed the cubicles. One had a door but no toilet seat the other had a seat but no door. Yuk, I wouldn't fancy using them. The night went on I was the slowest drinker – I didn't want to miss my flight back the next morning. The boys were beginning to wobble. They wanted to get back to the apartment because the UK cup final was being broadcast live on tv. I went out for another pee before we took the ferry back across the harbour. I couldn't believe it ! There on the back wall of the cubicle with a door but no seat was a classic curly wurly mr whippy turd sliding down the wall. I gathered the boys to view it. They were both impressed and horrified at the same time. The stroppy one didn't say much and finally admitted that it was him. He said that he'd had really bad trapped wind. There wasn't much choice between the cubicles but no way was he going to use the one without a door nor was he going to sit on the porcelain, so he crouched, aimed and suffered his own nuclear fallout as the pocket of trapped wind blew the entrapping substance horizontally past the pan and onto the wall. There it was, slowly sliding towards the centre of the earth. Being the sober one, I shepherded them home in time for the football. They all passed out within minutes and left me to the match – about as interesting to me as watching paint dry. By the time it was finished I had to leave for the airport. Being solo and one of the last on, meant I didn't have a choice of seats. I ended up in the middle of the 5 seating central row. Oooooohh ‘ello mrs b, weren't you on the flight over, a loud voice shrieked from my left. Ooooooh hello mrs t, yes I was. Where's your ‘usband mrs b. He's in the hold in a casket, he died while we were away. But isn't god wonderful he sent my son out so that I didn't have to fly home alone. Ooooh do ya think so….I do too. I knew it was going to be a very long, tedious flight……….
 
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Dave

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127
Perhaps you've missed the background of my attempts to write a book.........it all begins a few entry/pages back.
 
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