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When you can't get to the cubicle...
I was in a local 'nitespot' between Christmas and New Year in 2003. I was out with two mates and we'd had a rip-roaring night. As we approached the 'nitespot' I saw my cousin's husband on the door. One jumped queue later and we were at the bar.
The three of us were dancing and flirting with a few girls we'd gone to school with way back when. I felt a stirring and realised I needed to have the shite I'd been baking for an hour or two. Off to the traps I headed. When I got there, the one cubicle was busy.
I gave it five minutes and still no movement.
Hearing voices in the cubicle, I banged on the door and said come on, hurry up. Silence.
I'm a big old lad with a deep voice and I wondered if the occupant(s) thought I was a bouncer.
People came and went from the urinals, and I'd been in there over twenty five minutes when the colon- crippling contractions began. Before I shat myself, I surveyed the options- shit in the bin or in the urinal. There was no bin and I took a huge dump in the trough. As I was curling it out another lad I know (Shaun) entered and started to laugh. Two lads ran from the cubicle, either ripped on coke or having freshly hommed one another up.
Thebastard cubicle was free! I waddled in, wiped my arse then headed to the bar to ask for cleaning materials.
On my way to the bar, it was clear Shaun had been far from the soul of discretion and the door staff were literally bouncing!
The men's was cordonned off (it was only a shit!) and everyone re-routed to the ladies.
I made my excuses and left.
The next morning at football I heard there had been a huge fight over the toilet queues with twelve people arrested.
I have never been barred, but the door staff did cordially invite me to return at anytime as they'd like a chat with me. Needless to say...
(Fri 10th Apr 2009, 10:31, More)