Stuck in a bog.
That's it. The whole story. The rest is just padding. If you have anything better to do, go and do it. You have been warned.

Me and the missus hadn't been out for a while, what with the relatively recent arrival of our firstborn, and when I saw a band we'd both liked in our youth reformed and playing the O2, plans were made. I found a lovely, huge suite in a nice hotel (for cheap, ish), sorted out a catamaran ride with champagne and strawberries to the venue, put a spare croissant in my pocket - it was all planned, months in advance. All kept secret. I'd done it right.

After a few pints at the O2's shitty overpriced bars, I tottered quite merrily to the bog. There was a long line for the urinal, but no-one was using the throne at the far end - so past the hoi polloi I strode, with a knowing smile, proud that my acute observations had saved me a wait. I pulled the door shut with gusto - at which point, it became apparent why this luxury had been left vacant. The low toilet, the handrail, the alarm cord - I'd accidentally become that cunt who thinks he's good enough to use the disabled toilet, whilst everyone else observes convention and waits patiently for their turn at the trough.

Nope. Embarrassing as sloping back out, and to the back of the queue, would be - had to be done. I hate people who abuse things that only work by consensus. Turning to leave, I was delighted to see that my purposeful entry had somehow wrenched the outward-opening cubicle door inside the frame. With the hinges already pulled beyond their normal resting point, it wouldn't open inwards, either. But I didn't really have any options; there was the alarm cord, of course, but I'd have to fake a disability just to save some face. And the gig was due to start.

So I pulled the door inward as gently as I was able. Inch by protesting inch, it started to yield. The top hinge gave up the ghost and broke, falling to the tiled floor with a tiny little "clink" that seemed louder than a cathedral bell. But it was enough for me to slip through, out to face the disapproving glares of the queue. I hated them for their judgement. It was an honest mistake. I gave a little shrug which I hope conveyed my contrition and embarrassment and started to trudge away, at which point the bottom hinge broke and the door fell off.

Wasn't my proudest moment. The gig was OK though.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Fri 28 Feb 2014, 23:36, 10 replies)

( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 28 Feb 2014, 23:44, closed)

Please.

( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 28 Feb 2014, 23:44, closed)

Hi there, Gyzzpddl! Still unremittingly dull?
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Fri 28 Feb 2014, 23:47, closed)

Wait what?
You two don't like each other? That's a shame, I consider you both to be my favourite troll beaters. I reckon that if you two teamed up there would be a lot more cases of the twunts who go around making half-arsed replies like '^upset' all the time being put in their place.
(The Magic Number is neither magic nor a number, Tue 4 Mar 2014, 10:34, closed)

This isn't The Mock Turtle - it's Gyzzpddl (you may remember him from such stand-out anecdotes as the time he made a noise like a drum). Compare and contrast.

In all fairness, I don't blame him for wishing to become someone else.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Tue 4 Mar 2014, 16:45, closed)

Fucking hell.
That's just sad.
(The Magic Number is neither magic nor a number, Wed 5 Mar 2014, 12:03, closed)

Yawn.
This story is shit, and you're a fucking queer cunt who should be shot for humanity's sake.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Sat 1 Mar 2014, 0:06, closed)

I'll take that as a "yes".
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Sat 1 Mar 2014, 0:11, closed)

I bet the band was Five Star too. It was, wasn't it?

( Jabberwoc misses D.R. and Quinch, Sat 1 Mar 2014, 21:15, closed)

No, but I did once have a single of theirs, which was memorable for being the only example of a genuinely floppy record I've ever owned or seen. It came free with a magazine of some sort.
The truth is arguably worse.
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Sat 1 Mar 2014, 21:34, closed)