He must have hated the cleaner
Went out with some mates doing the usual pub and crap club in our town. We were sitting in the club and the cigs were offered out. Nice one I thought, I'll have some of that. Smoked the whole thing, then swiftly realised I was in need of a quick purge, with a cruel case of nicotine poisoning. Ran for the bogs which by then were the scene of absolute carnage, and worse still, the cubicle was occupied. I tried waiting it out but the bleeder in there was taking ages coiling one out. In a blind panic I exited the toilets with the intention of finding somewhere quiet and secluded. In the end I found a corner and blew furious chunks down on to the carpet below. I soon felt on top of the world once more, only to hear someone shout 'oi mate' behind me. It was a bouncer. I have never felt closer to death than at that moment. I walked over and basically started pleading for my life, only for him to open the fire escape door and offer to let me back in five minutes later when I had got some air. I remember thinking this must be some cruel deception before they throw me down the fire escape and then give me the banjoing of my life, but I exited. Backwards. Sure enough five minutes later I knocked on the fire escape door and there he was, and the evening continued. The best bit was seeing the shocked looks on my friends' faces as I sauntered back to our table. Turns out the 'quiet corner' that I barfed in was in fact in full view of the whole club and my friends all thought I was outside getting a beating. Thanks fellers.
Length? Found out the following afternoon that it was 18 inches down my left leg.
(mersault, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 13:19, 2 replies)

erm...
Was there not a sink?
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 13:22, closed)

.
there wasn't a return key either.
( Bazongaloid, Thu 27 Mar 2008, 13:29, closed)