9th October – Somewhere on a University Campus

So I have overcome the small matter of the room being double booked, explained to an academic looking bloke that yes he has also booked the room, but he has it next f******g week! Of course I didn’t say “f******g” just thought it as I commiserated with him, the bearded fool! So I set the room up, make it nice, and an added bonus, all the IT stuff works. People start arriving. Hell they all look like they know things! Momentarily my confidence deserts me. There are a few minutes until I am due to start, so with a breezy smile I announce to the assembled throng, all ten of them, that I am just going to pop out and round up any stragglers!

The gents are several miles away, or so it seems. I arrive sweating, hot and bothered. I have a pee and while trying to concentrate on the evening ahead turn on the tap. Water shoots out and splashes all over my crotch! IT LOOKS LIKE I HAVE PISSED MYSELF! I can’t go back in like this. What am I going to do? Momentarily unhinged I walk out of the toilets and start back to the lecture theatre. I stop. I CANNOT GO BACK IN THERE LIKE THIS! I walk back into the gents. I’ll phone my wife. And say what? Bring me a pair of trousers please and quickly. Even if she does not want a detailed explanation and lets face it most wives would, it will take ten to fifteen minutes for her to get there. Then I have to either find her or more difficult she has to find me lurking in the gents in a part of the building that I am unfamiliar with. Lets face it by the time she gets here they will be dry. Dry! Hand dryer! Brilliant. I walk to the dryer and punch it. Hot air spills out. I try and direct it onto my crotch but the gap is to far to make any difference. There is only one thing for it. So there I am holding my suit trousers under the hot air dryer hoping, no pleading with whatever divinity there is up there, that no one will come in for the next few minutes. They don’t and I make it! The trousers are dry. I put them on and saunter out of the toilets and back to the lecture theatre. There are now fourteen eager faces. “Well good evening” I start. Hell, why is that woman staring at my crotch?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s