'I'm not waiting in that...'
Five years ago, I was standing in the queue for the toilets during the Edinburgh Festival. It was nearly sunset and the line to get in to the 'Portakabin'-style temporary toilets in George Square Gardens was quite long, but it was moving fast. A bloke from the back of the queue shouted, 'I'm not waiting in that', and he strode purposefully off towards the back of the Portakabin - no doubt with the intention of relieving himself there. Unfortunately, in the dimming light and in his slightly inebriated state, he didn't see the tautly-pulled, shin-height guy-rope and he went straight down. He didn't even have time to put his hands out to break his fall - it was vertical to horizontal in the blink of an eye.

Now, it was immediately obvious that many other festival-goers had decided to relieve themselves at the back of the Portakabin earlier that night, although most had probably seen the guy-rope in the better light. What had formed over the course of the evening truly was a bog - a toxic mixture of earth, cigarette butts and gallons of lagery pish. And he was covered in it, head to toe in a foul, black slime. He got up and just stood there with his hands by his sides.
( ThisCaledonianClown has left it far too late, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 11:33, Reply)