Not another poo problem?

All of a sudden the years have crept up on Caroline and me, without noticing we have reached our 50^th year. This therefore goes for an awful lot of our friends and one of the results of this has been many 50^th birthday parties.

Caroline had a message from her Cousin Sharon’s son Chris inviting us to a surprise party for Sharon in Dagenham just after we got back from India. Caroline and Sharon are not only cousins but they were friends at school as well even before they knew they were cousins. Many years had passed since school days when they had lost touch, but with the power of Facebook they had managed to get back in touch with each other.

Given their closeness we of course agreed to come along to the party and be part of the surprise. On the day in question our partners in crime Nessie and Sean didn’t have much on either and so we roped them into the journey up to London for the night.

It is around 140 miles from Poole to Dagenham 2 and a half hours or so by car. We decided to leave early evening as we had to be there by a certain time to be in the surprise. As usual Caroline delayed me getting to pick up Nessie and Sean so in the end we did not leave as early as planned. Off we set on the motorway in good spirits.

Prior to leaving I had looked up the address of the venue and it appeared to be parallel with the main road Caroline always mentions Dagenham Heathway. I asked her if she knew where it was and she said “yeah be OK I will find it” I took the twat Nav anyway as you never know.

The journey up to Dagenham was fairly uneventful apart from the horrendous level of traffic which slowed us down considerably. I was driving and the only way I remember of going into Dagenham was via the A127. This was due to Caroline’s family living in Billericay and so going to Dagenham always came from that direction. I did ask if she wanted me to go another way I believe the A12 and A13 take you there, but Caroline wasn’t keen.

One of the 4 of us (not saying who) needed the loo by the time we got to the A127 so desperately that they made me pull over on the hard shoulder whilst they used the bushes facilities. The funny this is they thought they couldn’t be seen but in fact they were lit up by the road lights as they were right underneath it. There is photographic evidence (which I do not have but I am assured does exist).

As time got on it was clear we were not going to make the 8pm deadline so Caroline had the great idea of going to her favorite chip shop (the Golden fish) and having something to eat so as to not walk in at the same time as Sharon. It was very nice I have to say I had savaloy chips and a wally and thoroughly enjoyed it.

It was at this point where Caroline decided that she did not have a clue where we needed to go and had complete memory loss as to our conversation about it being near the main road she knows. So I reverted to the trusty Sat Nav. Once the address was put in we set straight off, I should have known this was not going to go well as the instruction seemed to always be to “Turn right”. But with full faith in technology we pushed on regardless. It started to feel a lot like a very bad magical mystery tour gone wrong. We drove and drove and drove with a mixture of Sat Nav and Caroline knowledge of where to go.  By the time we could see the Millennium dome (02 arena) we kind of figured we had gone wrong somewhere.

To be fair in the car all you could hear was a Sat Nav saying turn right and hysterical laughter every time it said it. We were at the point where the worse it got the more we accepted it.

I did manage to get us back on to the A13 and by listening solely to the Sat Nav managed to set a route to take us back to Dagenham. The little checkered flag was on the screen clear as day and when the words “you have reached your destination “rang out I was overjoyed. Only problem was it seemed we were in the middle of nowhere!

I drove along this small lane and into a car park, Caroline said “this is where my Nan and grandad are buried, this is a cemetery”. Strange place for a 50^th I thought but Sharon and her husband Andy are a little strange they are West Ham fans after all!!

We headed back up the lane and pulled over to phone Chris (Sharon’s son) to get some directions. He was hard to get hold of as there was loud music going on and so on. By this time Sean and I were in need of a pee and so as there was a little bit of waste land there we decided to make ourselves a little more comfortable shall we say. It was at this point that I had a twinge in my belly, you know that feeling that starts in your gut and ends up as a sharp pain up ya bum!

I looked around fairly desperately for a suitable hideaway but nothing was jumping out at me. As if it was a sign Chris rang Caroline back and to make things even more magical we were 2 mins away. We had basically drove straight past the turning. Didn’t see the bloody great signage!

So Chris said you can’t miss us there is a massive car park and you will hear the music. Famous last words, we entered the building and went straight into the hall with the music. Only trouble was wrong bloody hall! This was an Elvis tribute night, as we walked in everyone turned and looked even the Elvis. You couldn’t make this stuff up, and it could only happen to us. We made a sharp exit as we were directed to another hall just along a corridor.

We finally made it to the correct place, I knew it was the correct place as when we walked in we came face to face with Sharon who greeted us with “FUCK OFF”!!! charming I thought we had only just arrived after all J. We arrived just before the free bar ended which was a positive as Andy and money spending does not normally go hand in hand. Once we were in and settled my stress levels started to drop and my belly and bum started to twitch. Now I thought was a good time to go and do the poo that I had been building with all the stress and agro of the journey.

It was fortunate that as I entered the men’s toilets the place was empty. It was only small with only a couple of urinals and two stalls. I rushed down into the furthest one whipping down my jeans and boxers. I cannot tell you what a relief it was.  As the noise levels started to drop I started to hear people coming in to use the facilities. It was the normal lubricated men talking about football and girls and how pissed they felt. At this point I was just finishing so my mind started to lean towards the paper dispenser. I looked at it and it appeared that there was nothing in it? Odd I thought, so I put my hand up inside trying to move the roll around to allow the end to fall down.

I kept fiddling about and fiddling about but in the end I realised actually I’m kidding myself there is no paper in the holder. Oh My God there is no paper in the dispenser! Its here and now that the panic starts to set in. What am I going to do? I looked around desperately trying to locate the spare roll they always leave in toilets, nothing! So my quick thinking turns to what clothing can I do without? And where can I hide them?

It’s a sealed toilet unit no hiding place to be found, looks like the boxers or socks are not an option. Quick Lee check your phone call Sean he can get you something. Unlike my previous poo related story it is now common place to take a phone in the loo, so I got mine out but this is not actually my phone it is a phone but it has no sim card. I only use this as a camera and as an internet toy. So no phone signal and worse still no WiFi. What the hell kinda place doesn’t have WiFi? The stress levels started to rise again, at least I was in the right place.

I made a decision, as soon as the toilets became empty I would have to make a run for the next stall, it was the only option open to me. That is of course apart from the obvious of asking one of the guys in the loo to chuck me the roll from the next stall? But who would do that? Men don’t ask for help, we know not to. We are all well aware that to do that is giving up your rights as a man. You will get the piss ripped out of you for the rest of the night at best. At worst the guys out side will gather all their mates and wait inside the loo in total silence giving to illusion that it is empty, waiting for you to come out with your pants down so they can video you and take pictures to spread on the internet, pushing you over so you get your own shit all over you!

I don’t know maybe that just what I would do and other men would be kind and helpful? You decide.

So I continued to sit in silence waiting for my chance. As I sat there with the toilet seat creating a nice red ring on my jacksie I thought to myself what a load of old shit these men are talking. It really is a load of nonsense they were pissed I wasn’t. It was like a testosterone fueled one upmanship competition of talking bollocks. I sat and I sat and I sat until finally the coast sounded clear. It was now or never, I pulled my jeans up as high as I dare keeping my knees bent to avoid them falling down. The tee shirt I had on was new I got it in India, bright yellow Benetton. There was no way I wanted to get a skidder down the back of this, and so I made sure this was hitched up the back by bending forward slightly.

I opened the door very slowly and peered around the corner, it was clear so walking like a crab (to the side) with knees bent and leaning forward I made my run for it. The stall next door was really small and due to my body contortion I decided it was better to back into the loo. All that was of concern now was there any paper? Hooray there was thank the lord. On the downside however there was no lock, WTF! That was the least of my worries, I had made it this far and nothing was going to stop me now.

So foot up against the door I got done what needed to be done. I even managed to get out of the stalls all together ensuring that the culprit for the wiff would remain a mystery.

I do not know what it is about toilets but I always seem to have a tale to tell about my time in them! 

Never mind Happy Birthday Sharon Love ya!!