Out on the tiles.
One morning after a particularly drunken night out, I was awoken by mother and with a big ‘wink wink, nudge nudge’ smirk on her face she said,
“Did you bring someone home last night?”
“…No”
“Oh-- Only the toilet seat was down and there was a lot of noise when you got in…”
“Well, I definitely didn’t bring anyone home. I think I would remember something like that..”

Once the initial shock of entering the waking world had settled I began to recall some of the events of my homecoming. Firstly, the toilet seat being down was my own doing, my reasoning being, 1) I felt I was slightly too bungalowed to stay stood up long enough to keep little Stooey’s aim consistent, and 2) to quieten down and muffle what was to inevitably be the most powerful post-pub pee-stream it is biologically safe to pass without bionic enhancement. Neptune himself would have been proud to witness this mere mortal produce such a tsunami.

Everything was going swimmingly-- especially my vision and after 5 minutes or an hour (who truly know?) when I’d finally finished, my legs must have gone numb because when I stood up, I promptly fell over and landed straight in the bath. I was doing all this in total darkness I must add, it must have taken me several attempts to get out, hence the noise.

Although What kind of noises I was making in my porcelain resting place to have someone believe I was in the throes of passion I don’t know, and frankly I don’t wish to remember. Still, made me laugh. Mother is still disappointed at the lack of any female presence. She's starting to suspect.
(stooey Not an actor but I play one on TV, Mon 10 Dec 2012, 12:16, 2 replies)

"bungalowed" is right up there with "Hat-racked".

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 10 Dec 2012, 12:21, closed)

Do you call it little stooey
because you have a bell end shaped like a rugby ball?
(magic the cat will someone please think of the kittens, Mon 10 Dec 2012, 13:25, closed)