Ah memories, a mates 21st
We had gone into the East end from deepest essex, and been on a bit of a pub crawl (like the pope is a bit catholic), 2 of the lightweights had lost the power of locomotion and had been propped up and deposited their excess alcohol into bins and recovered.

We had been mixing drinks, one irish pub saw the landlord buy us all a jamesons, and so chasers had started.

On the way home we got to Stratford station and were waiting to change to BR. The pre honk gurgling started and nearby was a wallmounted bin. in days gone by before plastic bags took over there were 2ft by 1ft by 2ft galvanised bins for ciggie butts and rubbish in metal holders at each end of the oval station rooms.
I casually walked up to one and chirruped under total control. Someone had taken the bin out and I honked inside the half cylinder, through the coarse mesh and all over my shoes.
Mm stylish? not!
(tootired Is searching for a funny sig, nothing good so far, Sat 9 Jan 2010, 3:33, Reply)