The Toilet of The Damned
I've lived away from the UK for.... oooh... almost 10 years, but even now I'm haunted by the foulest of stenches I ever retched at - that public toilet behind the BP station at the top of Handcross Hill, on the southbound side just before the M23 dips out of the north downs and becomes the A23, pretty much halfway between work & home.

We've all been in public toilets with that stink of course, that eye-watering stink of matured smegma and desiccated bum candy, but the intensity in that loo was (is?) just phenomenal, its like they were entering a fucking competition. And how does a smell stick? It was impossible not to drag a greasy aura back into the car, to catch you out having breathed through the mouth since before the car came to a full stop.

The weird thing is, I sometimes used to stop there for a piss when I didn't really need one, as if subconsciously rising to a subconscious challenge. Kind of in the same camp as licking battery terminals.
(J H Christ began in Afrika ka ka ka ka, Tue 21 Jan 2014, 3:23, 1 reply)

That last bit is ridiculous, yet somehow completely understandable.
Nice.
(showman, Tue 21 Jan 2014, 12:36, closed)