Socks! Shit! Shock!
I'd been out with my brother. Got trashed. Had a severe hangover.

Went to the pub (a Rat and Parrot) as it was nearest. Usually I would avoid those sort of places, but I needed booze to cure the pain...

I had a couple of ciders then that familiar need to have a crap began to assert itself. No problems, I thought, I'll go to the toilet in a sec. The stomach cramps arrived suddenly and severely. I doubled over, and sprinted to the toilets, relieving myself in a hideously messy way...

Then I noticed there was no toilet paper.

I began to curse and babble under my breath, bemoaning my hangover and bringing down curses on the negligent cleaners. Panicking, and saying a brief prayer for my trousers and dignity, I hobbled to the other trap. Also paperless.

This left me a dilemma. A significant problem in fact. I could either have a messy bottom (unacceptable) or improvise...

Suffice to say, I ended up sockless, and commando.

I left the pub rapidly, but as I was exiting the door, I heard a scream of horror coming from the gents. The cleaner had belatedly found their way to the gents...

I've not been back there.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Fri 31 Aug 2007, 12:32, Reply)