So much fuss in a bus.
Departing from Victoria Bus Station was such sweet sorrow as I ventured northwards towards Lincoln. I shall call my fellow traveller Shane, for that is his name, who accompanied me on this most woeful of journies.

About two hours into the trip (It took at least 3 hours, maybe 4, perhaps even a mystical 5) I needed a dump. Not terribly, and definately not bad enough to endure the wonderful ameneties of National Express™.

So I went to the toilet. Naturally.
It must have been about 3 feet deep, 2 1/2 foot wide and 5 feet high. You have to step UP into it.
Given about a minute, I had my trousers down and was attempting to perch on the seat, the only way to stabilise myself as the coach flew around some sort of race track was to have my hands against the wall, finally, mission accomplished, we had touchdown.
For some reason at this point I started giggling like a stoned hatter (If only I was) and it took me a good 5 minutes to squeeze out an otherwise uneventful dump.

Went to flush... No water.
Tried the taps... No water.
So I was left sitting there, a decidedly whiffy log residing in the bowl beneath me, and no way to flush OR clean my hands.
So presented with this situation, I started to press the foot pedal over and over, eventually the log was chopped up by the hatch and fell into the cess tank. Pulled up my jeans and wiped my hands on about 50 million pieces of paper and went to leave.

Upon standing up I whacked my head on the ceiling, fell foward and whacked my face off the door. Then proceeded to open the door, fall foward again and almost crack my nose on the back of a seat.

I was crying with laughter at this point, and Shane was just like "What the fudge?".

He remarked later it would have been easier just to shit my pants. I think he was right. Good thing I didn't do a piss, it would have been all over the cubicle... Including my face.
(Miserygut, Sun 4 Sep 2005, 20:55, Reply)