Not for the faint stomached
To be forewarned is to be forearmed.
I really wish someone had told me the water in our office had been switched off before I went to the toilet last Tuesday.
For that reason I’m forewarning you if you’re at all squeamish you’d probably be best skipping this next section. It is not for those of faint stomach. You have been warned.
I visited the toilet at around 1pm on Tuesday, and after finishing what I can only describe as a major evacuation, I stood back to admire my output. It was pretty impressive if I do say so myself. I pulled the chain to get rid of it. The empty gargle was unnerving. I tried again. And again. And again. And again and again and again.
I tried the tap. It wasn’t working either. It mocked me with its hollow rasp.
I assessed the situation. My first problem was getting rid of my mess, the second was washing my hands. Without water neither was possible.
I tore off a few dozen sheets of the toilet paper and covered the eyesore. At least the next person in would only have one of their senses affronted.
I closed the lid on the toilet and exited the building to go to the public convenience in Castle Lane and wash my hands. I stopped on the way out to quiz Jenna as to why she didn’t tell me the water had been switched off. She stared at me blankly then laughed her leg off when I explained the indiginity which had befallen me just minutes earlier.
When I got back from my short trip I took my seat and wondered whether I should warn the men in the office about the present I’d left in the toilet. I was in a bit of a mood and decided that saying as no one had warned me the water was off, I wasn’t going to rush to tell them about my surprise.
And so began the game of toilet roulette. Who would be first to venture into the men’s toilet and bite the bullet, so to speak?
I’m afraid I can’t give you the answer to that. Geoff said he encountered some murky water later that afternoon, so it has to be assumed it had been flushed by someone at least once before Geoff.
I can only apologise to whoever that unlucky person was.
You’re possibly wondering why I chose to share this story. My motto for amusing anecdotes is the same as it is for calls of nature. Better out than in.
If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing badly. When it comes to housework that’s the motto of our advertising manager Robbie Abraham.
At the weekend Robbie attempted to hoover his home. The vacuum cleaner ended up on fire, all the electrics in the house were blown and his nice wooden floor has a lovely scorch mark on it.
I’ve got to hand it to him. He managed to create this slapstick scene of destruction before his pals Curly and Larry had even turned up.
I wonder will our advertising manager be placing an ad in this week’s paper...
Wanted: One housemaid. Full outfit will be looked upon favourably.
My brother-in-law sent me the picture below of a container lorry he got stuck behind on his travels in England. Could you imagine such a lorry driving through Lurgan? I’d say if it came to town it would be greeted in the same fashion as Billy Connolly arriving in Mozambique.
The answer to last week’s dingbat-style teaser was: Long time no see (C).
Here’s this week’s lateral thinking challenge: Which edible item has no beginning, middle or end?