Treasure or drunken theft?
In first year of university, a mate and I spotted a bathtub in a skip on the way back from the pub, when we were drunk as lords.

The drunken mind is a wonderful thing, and as we looked at this decaying, rusting piece of someone elses waste we thought "Looks like fun!" and carried the big white bastard to the halls of residence.

We left the tub in the drying room of the girls floor below us. They thought we'd stolen one of their tubs, we laughed; they said they'd call the warden, we scarpered and dumped the tub in the courtyard. All three floors on our block proceeded to pelt the tub with the condiments from the communal fridges, go out on the lash and then come back and piss in the bastard thing.

However, the cleaner had recently issued an ultimatum concerning the abysmal state of our floor and since she'd already broken down once, we had to move the tub before the next morning or we would surely feel her wrath.

So four of us donned surgical gloves (thankyou medics) and carried out the white enamel filth pit that was the latest incarnation of the bath. Interestingly, our search to find a place to dump this odorous cargo led us into a veritable treasure trove of rusty bikes, other baths and numerous sundries which the caretakers had been too lazy to dispose of properly and which scally kids had dumped on site.

Ahh... the memories...

I think thats enough length and girth to be pleasurable...
(sancho, Mon 4 Jul 2005, 10:53, Reply)