Guilty?
A couple of years back I had a datewith a girl who I was very, very interested in at the time. To cut a long story short, my car broke down (thanks Alfa) so I bavely left it by the side of the road and took the lovely lady for a meal.

All went well, she offered me a lift home where I was lodging with my mate Phil at the time. "Can I use your loo?" she asked.

Now Phil doesn't clean his bathroom. Ever. So I politely explained that the bathroom was "in a bit of a state", but that my own standards of hygiene are much more stringent than my landlord's. She was desperate so I had no choice but to let her use it.

Fifteen minutes later she comes downstairs looking shellshocked. To cap it all, Phil's Spaniel welcomed her into the lounge by wiping his dogsnot on her black cashmere coat. The look on her face was a mixture of distress and disbelief.

She said she was tired and headed home. I kissed her goodbye and went off for a post-date piss to be greeted by the most fearsome stench my nostrils had ever experienced.

"You dirty fucker!" I yelled at Phil "can't you see I had company?".

"Fuck off! I thought that was you, you dirty bastard!" he replied.

The awful truth dawned. The foul, fetid stink that only Satan himself would be proud of had in fact been left by the girl whom I had designs on sleeping with.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 25 Nov 2005, 16:48, Reply)