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Really awkward moment at urinals last night ...!


Jamesy

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Oh toilet stories is it?

 

(wibbly flashback fade-out)

 

Due to a rather hectic schedule on our anniversary that prevented us doing anything celebratory, and coincident with me getting a fistful of cash at 7:00am this morning for punting off the only Audi I own with folding seats, we decided to push the boat a few inches away from the jetty of frugality by having lunch in our local Wetherspoons, gourmet burger and a pint £6.10, you can't beat it.

 

I decide to go for a wee

 

I enter the room to find it empty, excellant, but as I approach the reproduction "vintage" urinal, another bloke walks in behind me. This gives me Shycock Syndrome, and its a while before I can splutter forth with a reluctant drizzle of golden rain. Its a poorly designed urinal however, and does not protrude forth like the modern "egg section" ones do. Therefore I loudly clatter onto the vinyl floor, and all up my shoes and trousers. I have to stand so far into it to prevent this, I'm sure the guy next to me thinks I'm trying to morph into the wall, like Orpheus and the Mirror, but with p*** and porcelain.

 

He walks off, without even washing his hands, the dirty so and so, thinks I from within the steaming interior of my urine-dripping glasshouse.

 

I wash my hands, no soap and the taps don't stay on for more than 2.8 nanoseconds. Annoying.

 

Now Wetherspoons don't skimp on the quality of their hand dryers, it was like a Rolls Royce Olympus on the wall. I remove my wedding ring, to dry under it and the jet blast whips it from my hand onto the floor. It all went a bit Frodo as I leapt for the falling gold ring, but it hit the floor and rolled right across until its motion was arrested by the small lake of my own cooling urine.

 

Then I washed the p*** off my ring in the public lavvy and rejoined my wife for lunch.

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I can't recall the last time I used a urinal (when sober). This used to happen all too often.

 

There's a fat guy at work that stands at the middle out of the three. I assume he either just wants to check some peckers out on lunch, or he's too fat to fit next to the wall without touching it.

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Being a doorman, after work one evening, I (for some bizarre reason... Ok, I followed a nice pair of boobies from my venue!!) went to Liquid Envy. After being plied with Redbull and coffee, i took a trip to the stinking p!ss and vomit drenched bogs. Now, doorman code states that you must always use a cubicle to avoid a mid slash attack. Unfortunately, some dirty grot bag had vomited all over one cubicle, and some other delightful waste of skin had smeared sh!t all over the other!

 

So, whilst having a wee wee in the communal steel trough, a drunk "rude bwoi" stood next to me and began to pee. Upon asking him to watch where his pee was going, and to stop splashing my arm, i was told to "go forth and multiply"! Luckily, the head doorman of said venue agreed with me, that a swift headbutt was justice enough. The fact that he was sat on the floor, willy still in hand, still weeing made it oh so much sweeter!

 

Dirty scum bag! Manners don't cost a thing!!

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Update: Being lashed up at a wedding lastnight, dying for a slash as the seal had been broken 3 wee's previously, (about 12 pints into the night), stood at the urinal (too lashed to care who was about), I received a text message. Whilst reading said message I was joined at the next door but one by the grooms father. After I pressed the reply button, i dropped my sodding phone! Luckily, my ninja like reactions stopped my phone landing in a puddle of pee, however, the ricochet from the side of my p!ss stone sent my phone between the other gentlemans legs. Waiting for a bloke to finish his slash to pick your phone up brings a whole new meaning "Awkward moment at the urinals"!

 

Such a dick! No punn intended!

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