Two stories spring to mind.
Neither of them very good, but, meh . . .

1) Aged 19 at a friend's house while his parents were away. After consuming much alcohol (hey, it wouldn't be a QOTW story without that sentence) we found a very old jar of home-made pickled onions. Very old. So, naturally, we all dared each other to eat them.

Some time later I was sitting on the couch when I got a "certain feeling". Hand clamped over my mouth, I rushed to the downstairs loo. I made it in there ok. There was just the small matter of the toilet seat, which unfortunately I didn't have time to raise. I spewed all over the seat, floor, walls and, I dare say, curtains. Not normal spew, either. No. This was spew containing massive chunks of partially digested pickled onion.

I'm told they had to completely redecorate the loo.

2) Not on a par with that, but it made me quite mad at the time. A few weeks ago I was in a sophisticated drinking establishment in a vibrant, bustling city. (Ok, it was Revolutions in Wolverhampton.)

In the toilets there is a man who will try to sell you aftershave and so on. Not my idea of a great career, but there you go.

I was standing next to some ozzy geezer, who was chatting to toilet bloke. I finished at the urinal and went to walk out. The toilet bloke said "wash your hands" as I went past, but I just snorted derisively. Just as I was almost out the door, the ozzy goes "Dirty bastard." Now, this is a pet peev of mine.

"Oy!", I said. "I'm not going to wash my hands because I don't need to. Firstly I practice good hygiene - in fact I probably have more germs on my hands than on my knob - and secondly because we don't piss on our hands in this country" and I stormed out.

Well, actually, I *thought* of saying that on my way back to the bar but the moment was kind of lost.
(MrC. Having the most boring username on b3ta since 2004, Fri 2 Sep 2005, 20:45, Reply)