Bloody hell this is good timing
This genuinely, honestly, only happened to me on Tuesday of this week.

As is common in January in Britain, I've got a stinking bastard cold. And as I got it from the girlfriend (please remember this last point, I will be referring to it shortly) I can't play the man-flu card and claim I've got some freaky new kind of Ebola mixed with AIDS and should be stuck in bed getting nursed back to health with chocolate and blowjobs. In fact I decided to pay said illness as little attention as possible, and won the acclaim of my ballet class (girlfriend! Remember the girlfriend! I'm not making any of this up!) by admitting at the start of the class that I had man-flu - and saying, OUT LOUD, in direct violation of the Bloke Code, that I was well aware that this did not mean I was dying.

Karma, especially when allied with germs, is a twat.

Maybe this happened because I was trying so hard to ignore The Ill (as I have now respectfully termed it) that it felt compelled to remind me of its existence. Maybe it was my comeuppance for flouting the Rules of Manliness in favour of trying to impress 16 ballet dancers of varying levels of hotness. But when it happened, I am assured it was hilarious by everyone I told the story to.

I sneezed, so violently, that my glasses fell off.

While I was having a piss.

A STANDING piss.

You do the maths
(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Thu 21 Jan 2010, 15:49, Reply)