The Affair.

When Harry met Sally.

Harry met Sally through an email that had gone adrift. They exchanged emails and liked what they read about each other. Harry didn't use his real name, being married he didn't dare use his proper name.

Harry wrote Sally an email everyday and Sally wrote back and they began to learn about each other.....the emails were friendly, but nothing romantic, and nothing suggestive. More emails were exchanged over a period of weeks, always very normal nothing racy, just regular notes to each other.

The usual back and forth went on for about 3 months when Sally finally asked Harry if he was "happily" married, because she was having problems and had nobody to talk to.

Harry said his marriage wasn't great but not awful. He told Sally to tell him what was up.

Sally wrote about lack of understanding, romance, passion, intimacy, and everything that went into the makings of a sound marriage. It seemed, according to Harry, that they had lots in common.

Harry began confiding in Sally and they began to realize that they had more in common than their initial chat. The emails flew back and forth faster and faster until they both realized that they had made a connection and really felt something for each other.

Another 6 months went by, they finally got up the nerve to give each other their cell phone numbers and when they spoke, it was instantly confirmed that the way they were able to write to each other, was also the way they were able to speak to each other....it was easy, comfortable, and exciting.

Finally, it was their one year anniversary of meeting on the internet, and they both decided it was time to meet face to face...to finally see if what they were both feeling was really real, or just an internet connection and phone link.

The plans were made, the timing would be perfect since both of their spouses would be away on business, and Harry agreed to drive the 6 hours to meet her in the foyer of some off the beaten track hotel where they could just talk, and see.

Harry arrived at the hotel, checked in and went down to the lobby. Gazing around the room his eyes lit upon someone who looked vaguely familiar!


I've run out of ideas as to where I should go with this...... Bugger!

Outrageous!

Scandalous!

This is outrageous in the run up to Christmas.

I've just been down town shopping with my wife when we found ourselves in "British Home Stores".

On one of the store displays there were some items going by the name of "Willy Chastity Belts" priced at £3.00 ($6) each!

I feel that this is absolutely OUTRAGEOUS!

You can buy the exactly same thing in "Pound Shop" for £1.00 ($2) It's scandalous!



Merry Christmas Everybody.

Talking Dirty.

I can get very turned on if my woman talks dirty to me. The filthier the better.

Recently I got the most absurdly large erection when she went on about scraping the dirty gunge off the back of the cooker.

On another occasion we were wrapped in each others arms and she raised the subject of cleaning the windows. Mind you, they were in a bit of a state, they were quite filthy. But the more she nagged the hotter I got.

To my mind, dirty talking is the best aphrodisiac there is.

But even so, at the ripe old age of 67 there are some other things that turn me on as much now as they did 50 years ago.

A pretty nubile young maid with heaving bosoms.

Pert nipples vying with each other to escape from a flimsy blouse.

Legs that appear to go on for ever and a day but eventually terminate at a small but perfectly petite behind (I'm having to cross my legs even as I type).

The smell of freshly washed shoulder length hair topped off with the waft of exotic perfume mingling with the aroma of a good malt whisky.

Absolutely normal things, really.


A sense of humour can be a good turn-on too.

Lead astray.

Memories, a lead story if ever there was one.


It makes me wonder how much danger I was in as an infant, child and then an adult, for:-

Like many of my era I was born at the outbreak of WW2 into a house that was plumbed entirely with lead. My wooden cot was painted with lead paint which I chewed relentlessly. I helped my uncle Sid cast lead soldiers using wire-bound iron moulds, with lead boiled in a small crucible on an open fire in front of a blackleaded cast iron fireplace (he took precautions to protect the peg-rug from the hot smoking liquid lead by utilising a sheet of asbestos).

We had a fireplace very similar at our own home which I helped blacklead on numerous occasions while growing up. The blacklead did cover my eager little hands and got under my fingernails but a bit of hard scrubbing plus a dab of butter and a quick rinse under the tap did help get most of it off. I chewed the rest of it out from under my fingernails.

I loved helping my uncle Sid making those lead toy soldiers and cowboys and indians. He would innocently give me a couple to fettle and play with whilst they were still too warm to decorate with lead paint. I helped with that too, before I was packed off to my lead paint painted bedroom with a still tacky lead paint painted indian.

In my teens and with the wages I got as a painter and decorator (lead paint of course) I got myself an airgun which fired lead pellets and I acquired the habit of holding a few pellets in my mouth rolling them around under my tongue ready to make a fast reload when necessary. I may even have swallowed one or two, I know I chewed some. That was when I wasn't out fishing using split lead shot which I opened up using my teeth and closed tightly to the line in the same manner.

If you include the lead content that was in petrol for decades and the lead in many cosmetic products, one can only marvel that I didn't grow up to be as healthy as I am and not suffer some sort of serious illness or brain calamity.

Having said that, I do have had bouts of depression, insecurity, mania, insomnia, paranoia, short term memory loss, serious lapses in concentration.................................................. and, oh yes, a strong urge to invade Poland. I've also lost most of my teeth.

But despite that it isn't all bad news. I've been happily married to my first real love for most of our forty-eight years together. We have four marvellous daughters all happily married, twelve wonderful granchildren and one spectacularly beautiful great granddaughter so I've not been too lead astray.

Infernal alarms.

An Alarming State Of Affairs.

What is it about car alarms? Why do they have to disturb the WHOLE neighbourhood? Why are the ignored for EVER?

Why should EVERYONE be awoken at unearthly hours?


Why can't some clever inventor come up with an alarm system that can only be heard by the vehicle owner?


The technology to make it possible is already with us. Hint, hint it's -

The mobile phone!!

Yes, the humble cell phone.

Set one up in the vehicle so that it will be triggered to dial any telephone that you program it to ring. It might be your home number, your mobile number or even your date's number. It'll just wake you and won't disturb the neighbourhood.

BRILLIANT.

Picture courtesy of Download-Free-Pictures.com

Around the World Yacht Racing.

Race You Around The Island

I much admire the like of Ellen MacArthur and her sailing mates and their solo circumnavigations of the globe. And I hold plenty of respect for their achievements but I can't help feeling that these trips are more like 27,000 miles "Around the Island" than around the world.

Take a look at the "Around the World" course on a globe of the world and you will see what I mean. Their route takes them straight down the Atlantic, they turn left at the bottom of Africa, sail around Antarctica and then it's straight back up the Atlantic again to home.

Surely there must be a more apt route to circumvent Earth.

How about starting at the Panama Canal, go across the Atlantic, around South Africa, then Tasmania and then cross the Pacific back to Panama Canal?

Picture courtesy of: Download-Free-Pictures.com

Fossilised Phalluses Batman!

Fossilised Phalluses Batman!


Stone me! Some dick-heads have come up with the idea that stone-age men had smaller willies. (The Sun UK)

I think someone is pulling my string.

Have they discovered some fossilised Homo-Erectus's fossilised phallus?

Are they in possession of some ancient pornogaphic photographic evidence?

Have they unearthed a well thumbed Bedrock copy of "Big Boys Monthly" magazine?

After all my cynicism they may have a point.

When did you last see a Neanderthal female skeleton unearthed that still had a smile on its face?

Aging

IF YOU DON'T READ THIS TO THE VERY END,

YOU HAVE LOST A DAY IN YOUR LIFE.

George Carlin's Views on Aging. Do you realize that the only time in our lives when we like to get old is when we're kids?

If you're less than 10 years old, you're so excited about aging that you think in fractions.

"How old are you?" "I'm four and a half!" You're never thirty-six and a half.

You're four and a half, going on five!

That's the key!!

You get into your teens, now they can't hold you back.

You jump to the next number, or even a few ahead.

"How old are you?" "I'm gonna be 16!"

You could be 13, but hey, you're gonna be 16!

And then the greatest day of your life . . . you BECOME 21.
Even the words sound like a ceremony.

YOU BECOME 21. YESSSS!!!

But then you turn 30. Oooohh, what happened there?

Makes you sound like bad milk!

He TURNED; we had to throw him out.

There's no fun now, you're just a sour-dumpling.

What's wrong? What's changed?

You BECOME 21,
you TURN 30,
then you're PUSHING 40.
Whoa! Put on the brakes, it's all slipping away.

Before you know it, you RE ACH 50 and your dreams are gone.

But wait!!! You MAKE IT to 60.

You didn't think you would! So you BECOME 21,

TURN 30, PUSH 40, REACH 50 and MAKE IT to 60.

You've built up so much speed that you HIT 70!

After that it's a day-by-day thing; you HIT Wednesday!

You get into your 80s and every day is a complete cycle;

you HIT lunch;

you TURN 4:30 ;

you REACH bedtime;

and it doesn't end there.

Into the 90s, you start going backwards;

"I Was JUST 92."

Then a strange thing happens.

If you make it over 100, you become a little kid again.

"I'm 100 and a half!"

May you all make it to a healthy 100 and a half!!

HOW TO STAY YOUNG

1. Throw out nonessential numbers. This includes age, weight and height.
Let the doctors worry about them. That is why you pay "them."

2. Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.

3. Keep learning. Learn more about the computer,

crafts, gardening, whatever.

Never let the brain idle.

"An idle mind is the devil's workshop." And the devil's name is Alzheimer's.

4. Enjoy the simple things.

5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath.

6. The tears happen. Endure, grieve, and move on.

The only person, who is with you your entire life, is yourself.

Be ALIVE! while you are alive.

7. Surround yourself with what you love, whether it's family,
pets,
keepsakes,
music,
plants,
hobbies or whatever.

Your home is your refuge. 8. Cherish your health :

If it is good, preserve it.

If it is unstable, improve it.

If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.

9 Don't take guilt trips, take a trip to the mall instead.

Even to the next county;to a foreign country but

NOT

to where the guilt is.

10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER :

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

Don't Get You Hair Off!

Keep Your Hair On!

If your father is a baldy, you can insure against male pattern baldness while you still have a good head of hair.

Have some of your now healthy hair made into a couple of wigs.

When the inevitable baldness sets in you can wear your wig and claim - when challenged - that it is indeed your own hair!

Job's a good'n.

A Winters Tale.

When are the young people of today going to realise that vanity and machismo offer no protection from the vagaries of winter weather.


There's a long line of young men, and women, who have perished in the cold through wearing inadequate clothing.


I regularly hike miles through the cold of night for a drink in my "local" pub but by wearing vest, shirt, jumper, two pairs of socks, long-johns, trousers, jacket, Parka, wooly hat and gloves I am prepared for whatever winter throws at me.


Dressed like this and leaning into an icy wind I have come across many a young blood attired in less than I go to bed in. I've watched them bravely trying to shrug off the cold as if the wearing of even a jumper would sap their street cred and turn them into laughing stock.


For instance, it's late in the evening on the coldest night of the new year.
A brisk snowflecked northeaster complete with little bullets of driven sleet is hammering into my face and whistling through the toggles of my thick winter cagoule.


With mittened hands I pull down the bonnet of my fleece in a vain attempting to make it fit more tightly around my ears. I stamp my double socked feet inside my fur lined boots endeavouring to get my circulation going to warm my frozen toes. Sheltering from the elements in the lee of the bus station I battle hypothermia and do the best I can to keep from freezing as I wait for the bus to take me home.


Thoughts of the many books I have read recounting adventurers in the foreboding Antarctic. Shackleton, Scott, Fuchs and the unfortunate Oates. Their day-to-day accounts of battling with the driving blizzards and the sub-zero conditions that posed a perpetual threat to their lives whilst testing their unstinting endurance haunt my mind.


Thoughts of Hillary and Tensing on Everest and of brave sailors striving against overwhelming odds to discover the elusive and perhaps mythical Northwest Passage through the frozen wastes and seas of the Arctic ocean.


All hold my admiration for braving the severe cold and deprivations but I can't help but think that they couldn't have been any colder than me as I shiver and stomp trying to get my old blood pumping around my cold, cold bones.


And then I see them. About half a young adults, teenagers even, walking across the bus park towards the taxi rank. They are NAKED!!! Or at least they appear to be NAKED!!! to me. No hats. No scarves, no coats at all. The lads in shirtsleeves or T-shirts, jeans and trainers, the girls in trouble if their parents' ever catch sight of 'em.


Low tops cut down to their navels and the hems of their skirts or hot-pants almost up to the same level.


Five minutes later they are still queueing there, seemingly oblivious to the increasingly inclement weather as my bus pulls in.


They are still there as my bus pulls out some five minutes or so later.


How can they do it? Why do they do it? Can't they afford warm clothing? Have they not the sense that they were born with?


If anyone out there can supply me with sensible answers I will be very surprised indeed. My advice is wrap up and get a LIFE before DEATH gets you.

Deviants.

What is a deviant?

.

Something "normal" is something that the majority of people (more than 50%) feel is right and acceptable.
.
To describe someone as a "deviant" means that that person isn't doing what is considered "normal" in society. What is "normal"?
.
Roughly 8% of adults are gay. Are they all to be regarded as deviant by the rest of the population? It used to be the case not long ago.
.
Atheism is still a minority sport (as yet), am I to be regarded as deviant for denying the existance of gods?
.
If government statisticians suddenly found that paedo's and homo's slightly outnumbered hetero's would that mean that we heterosexuals would then be regarded as the deviants?
.
My mind is starting to boggle now. Our Royal Family is in the minority over here. Are we to regard them as deviants too!? (You don't have to answer that question, should your reply demand your imprisonment in The Tower).
.
We live in a society based on "The Norm". Anyone even vaguely straying from this set path is regarded as; "not quite kowsher" and can find themselves ostracized.
.
Frinstance, if one chooses to let their garden return to nature in order to help assist in the generation of local wildlife, their neighbours' would be apt to throw up their hands in despair, complain about the weeds and the look of the garden and contact the local authorities to complain.
.
And if more than 50% disagree with this post, does that mean I am a deviant?
.
There's an old adage that goes something like:

You can fool all of the people some of the time,
you can fool some of the people all of the time,
but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time.

Politicians especially, should always bear that in mind. I'm off to weed the garden.

Law and Order.

Runaway Crime Wave.

.
The country's burgeoning runaway crime wave. For what it's worth, here is what I think.

.

How can we hope to stamp out burglary and housebreaking when the thieves make much more money from their ill-gotten gains than is dished out to them by the courts in the way of damages and fines?

.

How can we hope to get criminal drivers to mend their ways and pay their dues when the courts persistantly go easy on the dodgers. A two hundred pound fine for driving an untaxed, uninsured and unroadworthy car while disqualified just does not equate with the total cost - which can run into thousands of pounds - levied on and paid for by the law-abiding motorist.

.

How can we hope to tackle the growing drug problem when the taking of drugs is so obviously condoned by the so-called upper echelon in society? Hardly a day goes by without hearing news of some celebrity or other making hay with the weed, shovelling coke or erring with heroin.

.

These people should set finer example from their loftier position.

.

How can we hope to stamp out the sordid paedophilia users and abusers in society when we read that many of those involved are MP's, judges, policemen, doctors, teachers and even so-called men of God!?
.

I say again; these people should be setting a good example.We should ALL be prepared to clean up our act and try to improve society.

.

If we were ALL prepared to go that extra yard in helping our children achieve their full nine yards, then I believe we could have our runaway crime shame licked.

In Whom Do We Trust?

In Whom Do We Put Our Trust?
Heartbreaking news.

01.12.07 UK. Lord Mayor Lawrence Bailey, 52 has been discovered with 50,000 porn snaps - many of them hardcore - on his official cumputers. Married Mr Bailey - Labour Leader of Swansea Council - was also discovered to have written to local newspapers using aliases.

29.11.07 UK. Damning DNA evidence that in 1998 linked rapist John White, 43, to an attack on a 30 year old student nurse was LOST by police for EIGHT YEARS. The father of two, who's details were faxed to detectives who promptly lost the evidence, had admitted to two more rapes in 1994. Trial continues.

28.11.07 All the Orthodox Church priests on the holiday island of Cyprus have been ordered to pray at mass for rain this coming Sunday. The initiative has been taken by the church leaders to end the island's drought. (Watch this space).

27.11.07 Vicar Paul Battersby, 58, who admitted three counts of downloading vile and brutal child pornography was shopped to police by his wife. The filthy porn, which include a clip of a 10 year old girl being bound and raped, was discovered on Reverend Battersby's computer by his stepson who told his mother. The vicar of Saint Ambrose Church, Leyland, Lancashire UK, is expected to be given 10 year jail when sentenced in January 2008.

21.11.07 The British Government (HMS Revenue and Customs) have LOST two computer discs containing personal details of 25,000,000 UK residents. Data includes names and addresses, dates of birth, national insurance numbers, banking and building society details. The discs went missing when sent 250 miles by insecure post. Double Doh!


15.11.07 Grandma Patricia Prowse, 78, died in Derriford Hospital, Plymouth when nurses there lost vital medicine notes that had been written on post-it-stickers and paper towels.

Patricia, who'd been admitted to the hospital for minor op on her shin, went without vital anti-clotting drugs for THREE days. The hospital has apologised to the family.

14.11.07 Miss Seduces Pupil. Attractive 28 year old English teacher Jo Gorman has been suspended and cautioned for having full sex with one of her 16 year old pupils. It is alleged that the pair exchanged phone pictures of each other.

14.11.07 A father who thought his two sons, aged 10 and 7, were possessed by the Devil fastened their top and bottom lips together with safety pins. The Nigerian born churchgoer, aged 47, also cut their tongs with a scalpel to bleed them. Clothes pegs and pliers were also used on the boy's tongues. The father, from Bradford, West Yorkshire, denies unlawful wounding and cruelty. His wife of 41, also denies cruelty.

14.11.07 UK. 5,000 illegal immigrants have been cleared to work as security staff in airports and seaports. DOH!

14.11.07 Oxford University - having studied data going back as far as 1970 to discover the effects that binge drinking might have on unborn babies - have just released their findings. They indicate that the occasional bout of heavy drinking will NOT affect the unborn child. Eh!?

14.11.07 Nurse Nobantu Dlayiya, 61, who didn't know what ASPIRIN was ignored her bosses at a care home and gave the wrong doses to her elderly patients. The Nursing and Medical Council hearing found the South African guilty of misconduct but say she may be allowed to cotinue as they saw “tangible improvement.”

13.11.07 Childminder Keran Henderson 42 was jailed for three years today for shaking a tot in her care so violently that she was blinded and suffered fatal brain damage. Henderson - wife of an ex-policeman and regarded as a pillar of the community who ran local Beaver and Scout groups and cared for up to eight kids at a time – lost her temper with the child, Maeve Sheppard. She was suffering from a tummy bug. Maeve's mother said "We have had our first-born child taken away from us by a person we considered professional...we regret handing our child over to Keran. "

11.11.07 Fifty-two year old paedophile Head Teacher Peter Boasman has been sentenced to just two years jail for the sexual abuse of an eight year old girl.

Her parent's say it is disgraceful and that he will only serve nine months before being freed on licence. Boasman pleaded guilty at Snaresbrook Crown Court to two counts of sexual assault of the girl. It emerged after the trial that Boasman - who has a daughter of his own from a previous relationship - had been investigated by police on another ocasion for his behavior towards another girl aged eleven.

No action had been taken by police at that time. Parents of the eight year old abused child are furious that he wasn't monitored after that event.

10.11.07 A GP was found negligent in failing to diagnose breast cancer in a young woman who later died. Dr Sarah Tottle was a newly qualified locum doctor in Portsmouth, Hampshire in 2000 when she told 32 year old Sharon Adshead that a lump in her breast was benign. Mrs Adshead was finally diagnosed 15 months later but died of the disease aged 35 leaving her son Logan, now aged six. Dr Tottle, who now works in Australia, was ruled to have failed in her duty towards Mrs Adshead and her husband were awarded £325,000 damages plus costs.

10.11.07 In Carlisle's Cumberland hospital, a recovering cancer patient died after starving of food when a feeding tube was inserted wrongly. The tube was put into 66 year old Roy Hodgson by a nurse because no doctor was available but she missed his stomach.

Roy was unable to speak but did write notes saying that he was hungry and thirsty. A scan was then done but the consultant missed the problem. Pub landlord Roy died of peritonitis caused by food leaking into his body. The Cumbrian family are suing the hospital.

09.11.07 Pervert William Manahan, an 80 year old former monastry abbot has been jailed for 15 months for abusing boys aged from seven to thirteen.
He was Prior of the Benedictine Buckfast Abbey in South Devon. He had admitted to six charges at Exeter Crown Court.

09.11.07

Gilbert Deya, a preacher who offered to give couples "miracle babies" is set to be extradited to Kenya on child kidnap charges. Self styled bishop Deya runs his 34,000 member ministry from Peckham, London, and is accused of harbouring stolen children at his Kenya home.

He has churches in Birmingham, Liverpool and Manchester.

09.11.07 Married 44 year old David Lee, Town Mayor of Chelmsford, Essex, has quit his post in shame after child porn images were found on his council laptop. He has also resigned as a Tory counciller after police launched an investigation. IT experts alerted cops after sexually explicit images were found on his computer.

08.11.07 Teacher and Football League referee Gary Lewis, aged 33, of Haddenham, Cambridgeshire, appeared at Cambridge Crown Court and admitted emailing explicit images to a boy of 14.

He was given a community order.

Watch this space.

I'm out of here, get me a celebrity!

I'm out of here, get me a celebrity!

Just how many more of these infantile "reality" shows have we got to put up with? This isn't entertainment. Or at least it isn't entertainment that I find entertaining. What can be thrilling about filming a motley selection of pampered B and C celebs pretending to survive the rigours of outdoor life in the grounds of a hotel or even a pretend jungle? The most traumatic thing that some of them might suffer is a broken nail or perhaps run out of mascara, and that's only the men.
.

If you want REAL survival then I suggest that a motley crew of "entertainers" plus a minimum TV crew, are parachuted into the Borneo jungle sans food, tents, or any extraneous accoutrements whatsoever and have them find their way out.
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It might be just a tad more risky and maybe a few won't make it but what the hell, the ratings might just go through the roof. Or at least the ratings might match those that real entertainment shows like what Morecambe and Wise, The Two Ronnies or even those that The Comedians could muster.
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Real entertainers they were, not failed entertainers who were just going through their motions, literally. I mean, come on! What is entertaining about discussing toilet habits or even filming someone "doing it?"
.

These fly-on-the-wall docu's should all be confined to the dustbin before they prove to be the death, not only of of television but also of television entertainers.
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I mean, come on! You can get that sort of entertainment by peeping through the curtains at your neighbours or holding a glass onto the wall and pressing your ear against it. You can. Honest!

TV soaps.

Telegraphed TV soap plots.

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Why is it that, whenever a soap character is depicted as being under stress he/she makes a dash for the bottle?
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Why is it that when a soap character is in dire financial straits they head straight for the bookies?
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Why is it that when a soap business isn't doing very well, thoughts inevitably turn to arson?
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Why is it that NO portrayed wedding on soaps goes without a hitch?
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Why is it that NO planned dinner, party or other celebration ever goes sweetly?
.
Why is it that soap writers - guilty of portraying all of these negative attitudes that can only misguide the gullible viewer into thinking that these are the acceptable ways to solve problems - are allowed to carry on doing so?
.
Why is it that writers' seem incapable of moving the plot along without resorting to the overused coincidence and eavesdropping ploy?
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There are many impressionable people out there who believe that soaps are true to life and use what they see and hear as a yardstick.
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Maybe this is why the language of today's youngsters is so ignorant, lazy and sloppy.
.
Almost as ignorant, lazy and sloppy as the scriptwriting.

Dedicated followers of fashion.

It's in the jeans.

The current fashion amongst the trendies to dress DOWN appears to have gone way to far.

.

Many of the celebs and non-celebs now dress more your DOWN and OUT than down.

.

I spotted a pair of jeans for sale in a local boutique. They were faded and paint splashed with holes in the arse area and even larger holes in both knees.

.

In fact they looked identical to the pair of work trousers that I had binned just last week and they were priced at a whopping £99.99!

What a shower.

MAT FINISH.

I bought us a rubber shower mat today.

.

I laid it in the shower tray, stripped off, stepped in and closed the door.

.

I turned on the shower and tried to move but I couldn't 'cos the suckers on the mat were firmly attached to my feet.

.

I couldn't bend down either to free it from the soles of my feet!

.

So I opened the shower door and hopped out, walrus-like,

onto the tiled floor, slipped and bashed my chin on the toilet seat.

.

Well, it didn't come with instructions so how was I to know the damn thing should have been laid the other way up?

Toileting troubles.

Off to the Ladies loo.

When you have to visit a public loo there is invariably a line of women, you smile politely and take your place, it finally gets to your turn, you check for feet under the cubicle doors. Every one is occupied.....but eventually a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle.



You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your knickers!!! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" is handy, but empty. You would hang your handbag on a door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, yank down your knickers, and assume "The Position."



In this position your ageing, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Position? to take your mind off your trembling thighs for a moment when you reach for horror or horrors an empty toilet paper dispenser!



Your thighs start to shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your handbag which is now burning your neck & shoulders with the weight. So you contort your arm into a very unnatural position and start to fumble around in the deep dark depths of your handbag for that small crumpled 'used' tissue no bigger than your thumbnail.



Someone pushes your door and because the latch doesn't work it hits your head which is bent over from holding the hanging handbag, and you start to topple backward. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door and drop the precious, tiny, crumpled tissue you had only just retrieved with your index finger in to an unknown puddle on the floor.......if that isn't enough you lose your balance altogether and gravity pulls you down ...... down ..... directly onto the TOILET SEAT!



It is wet, of course, you bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ & life form that lives on the uncovered seat.



By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose into the bowl which sprays a fine mist of water that covers your bum and runs down your legs along with the various life forms and down into your dishevelled knickers which have now dropped down to your ankles. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.



At this point, you give up.You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe yourself with a piece of gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.You can't figure out how to operate the taps, so you run your hands underneath it grateful for the two drops there, then around the basin itself.



You go to the towel dispenser past the line of women still waiting, where of course there are no paper towels so you move over to the hand blower, which, yes you've guessed it, also doesn't work. You are no longer able to smile politely to the women, but there is an unspoken understanding between you all.



A kind soul at the very end of the line points out that you have a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe (where was that when you NEEDED it??). You yank the paper from your shoe, plonk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."



As you exit, you spot your partner, who has long since entered, used, and left the Male Toilets.



Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your handbag hanging around your neck?"



This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public loos. It also finally explains to the men what really does take us so long and also answers their other commonly asked question about why women go to the loo in pairs. It's so the other one can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!



Anon.