A sudden attack of the shits
The dark doesn't scare me, but it has caused one or two run-ins, one of which I'll describe to you in all its glory here.

Allow me to begin by setting the scene for you. My bedroom is on the first floor, at the front of the house. To get to the bathroom from my room, one has to walk through the bedroom door, down the hall, down two steps, through a 'doorway' (which doesn't actually contain a door), and the bathroom door is immediately to the right. I've lived in this house for long enough to have memorised this route, so that when nature calls in the night, I can safely find my way to the toilet without the need for lights or any other new-fangled technology.

And now onto the story. Just around the corner from my house is a fish and chip shop which I happen to frequent. I seriously cannot emphasise through the medium of writing just how fucking good this place is. The newspaper cuttings — all from national broadsheets — which adorn the walls would suggest that I'm not alone in thinking this. And it's cheap as well — £1.90 for battered sausage and chips? Yes please. So there you have it, Albany Fish Bar, or 'AFB' in a nutshell.

One night when I was feeling particularly lazy and unadventurous I took the decision to dine on the aforementioned meal instead of going to the trouble of cooking something myself. The quality of food wasn't as good as normal; the sausage was particularly cardboard-like in both taste and texture, and that night I went to bed feeling a little nauseous, but convinced myself not to worry; that a lie down would make it all go away.

The next thing I knew, it was some unspecified time in the small hours and I was awake. You know when you're just waking up and something's not quite right, but you're not quite conscious enough to work out what it is? Like when you've stayed at a friend's house and you're trying to make sense of your surroundings and there's a brief moment's panic as you try and work out where the fuck you are? Yeah, just like that, but on this occasion the panic was caused by the realisation that I really needed a shit. Whatever the liquid form of turtle-heading is, that's what I was experiencing. Sitting bolt upright, I felt a sudden wave of nausea. My body was covered in sweat. Not to worry, I told myself, I'll just make the routine trip to the bathroom.

As I began the walk down the pitch-black hallway towards the toilet, the pain in my bowel area increased somewhat. "This is showtime," I thought to myself, and my walk turned into a run. Down the hall, down the two steps, and then... nothing.

I woke up what could have been a few hours later (in reality probably only a minute or two), looking up at the ceiling of the hall. I was soaking, and there was a pretty appalling smell coming from somewhere. Ah, that would be the big pool of shit that I'm lying in then. My head was killing me, and a strong urge to vomit got the better of me, so I duly added to the already sizeable pool covering the floor.

Dazed, I looked upwards towards the doorway, and saw what had caused all this. My housemate had elected to install a chin-up bar in the mysterious doorway. Running at full pelt, I had clearly smacked my head on this thick metal bar and knocked myself out cold. This in turn had caused my muscles to relax, provoking the sudden gushing of bodily secretions from my rear end.

I hastily managed to find some carpet cleaner and an old t-shirt with which I frantically scrubbed the entire area, trying to get rid of any and all evidence that I possibly could. If the worst came to the worst and anyone noticed a peculiar smell or odd looking stain on the carpet the next day, I'd just say I was sick and would neglect to mention my head-on encounter with the chin-up bar or my sudden explosive attack of the shits. But nobody even mentioned it, presumably because that particular carpet was pretty much one big stain anyway. I had a quick shower and went back to bed, feeling a little bit dizzy and about a stone lighter.

I honestly can't remember if I was alone in the house that night, or if my housemates were all heavy enough sleepers not to notice the commotion going on in the hallway, but I am very thankful that nobody came to investigate. It would have made a very embarrassing and painful situation a whole lot worse.

Apologies for length, depth, and shittiness.
(SJH, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 11:31, 5 replies)

I would have removed said bar
dipped it in the various secretions on the carpet, and set about your housemates head with it. What a bloody daft thing to do!
(berk, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 11:55, closed)

Sympathy Click
Hilarious though!
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 12:35, closed)

The Albany Fish Bar ...
Many a happy chippy tea from there when I was a Cardiff student back in the day ...
(Teiresias, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 15:19, closed)

Yay
I was wondering if anyone would recognise the name :-)
(SJH, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 16:48, closed)

Albany Fish Bar
Fantastic place, never had bad food from there in 2 happy student years....as long as I didn't order fish. Which was usually a bit rubbish.

But jumbo sausage and chips, heaven. Lived on Donald Street, then moved to Arabella Street to live a bit closer to AFB :)
(afurball, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 16:50, closed)