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I pass on this cautionary tale as a help and a warning to my fellow forumites.
Today I entered my bathroom to perform the routine task of emptying my bladder.
From its cosy resting place in the ball pocket of my briefs I fshed out my urethric tube and set it to work . I felt the onset of the urineal surge and relaxed , humming as I stood there , a snatch of Beethoven's Pistoral.
I could see the golden bubbles forming on the surface of the water in the bowl and felt all was right with the world -this was all so easy peesy .
On conclusion I replaced all the protruding apparatus and made ready to prepare for exit having duly carried out the necessary process of manual ablution .
Just then I became uncomfortably aware of an ominous dampness pressing against my leg .
Sure enough, even a cursory glance sufficed to show that a malfunction of extraordinary proportions had occurred during the urinary discharge.
For reasons unknown , the jet of p.iss having started on its journey to the bowl had curved backwards and deposited itself on my clothing . Even more sinister was the fact that it had bifurcated and sent twin streams cascading down each leg of my undeserving trousers. A dark stain spread from the central crotch area and down the front of each leg with such an uncanny geometric precision that I might have been wearing some kind of zany uniform .
On emerging from the ( downstairs) toilet I established that there were two people in the living room -my wife and a visitor . Fortunately they were eating at the time . I was able , mercifully , to sidle along with my back to the table and feign deep interest in the television programme which happened to be on .
I then sprinted to the sanctuary of the bedroom where I speedily discarded the stricken slacks and restored myself to a state of trouserial decorum.
It is now clear to me that nothing can be taken for granted even in the most humble and habitual task of having a p. Care must be taken at all times to certify that the ureal liquid is projected on a straight and true arc to the bowl and that one's nether apparel is not threatened with an errant spray .
One might not always be so lucky as to be able to repair such a mishap without embarrassment and thus be spared the inevitable loss of dignity that follows from presenting a pee-stained trouserfront to the world .
Beware , be very aware. :0
Today I entered my bathroom to perform the routine task of emptying my bladder.
From its cosy resting place in the ball pocket of my briefs I fshed out my urethric tube and set it to work . I felt the onset of the urineal surge and relaxed , humming as I stood there , a snatch of Beethoven's Pistoral.
I could see the golden bubbles forming on the surface of the water in the bowl and felt all was right with the world -this was all so easy peesy .
On conclusion I replaced all the protruding apparatus and made ready to prepare for exit having duly carried out the necessary process of manual ablution .
Just then I became uncomfortably aware of an ominous dampness pressing against my leg .
Sure enough, even a cursory glance sufficed to show that a malfunction of extraordinary proportions had occurred during the urinary discharge.
For reasons unknown , the jet of p.iss having started on its journey to the bowl had curved backwards and deposited itself on my clothing . Even more sinister was the fact that it had bifurcated and sent twin streams cascading down each leg of my undeserving trousers. A dark stain spread from the central crotch area and down the front of each leg with such an uncanny geometric precision that I might have been wearing some kind of zany uniform .
On emerging from the ( downstairs) toilet I established that there were two people in the living room -my wife and a visitor . Fortunately they were eating at the time . I was able , mercifully , to sidle along with my back to the table and feign deep interest in the television programme which happened to be on .
I then sprinted to the sanctuary of the bedroom where I speedily discarded the stricken slacks and restored myself to a state of trouserial decorum.
It is now clear to me that nothing can be taken for granted even in the most humble and habitual task of having a p. Care must be taken at all times to certify that the ureal liquid is projected on a straight and true arc to the bowl and that one's nether apparel is not threatened with an errant spray .
One might not always be so lucky as to be able to repair such a mishap without embarrassment and thus be spared the inevitable loss of dignity that follows from presenting a pee-stained trouserfront to the world .
Beware , be very aware. :0
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Not as bad as being in somebody elses house, turning on a cold tap to wash your hands and see it WHHOOSH around the bowl and straight on to your grey trousers at crotch height before you can turn the bastid off. :(
Ah yes -the dreaded tap attack .
Little for it but to hope that there's enough bogroll to apply to the affected area . One can at least lighten the stain and perform a series of stoops , shimmies and other gyrations to keep the one's plight hidden from prurient view .
A newspaper or magazine may have to be deftly employed for concealment purposes in extreme cases. :D
Little for it but to hope that there's enough bogroll to apply to the affected area . One can at least lighten the stain and perform a series of stoops , shimmies and other gyrations to keep the one's plight hidden from prurient view .
A newspaper or magazine may have to be deftly employed for concealment purposes in extreme cases. :D
Do what the German men do, pull down the kecks and sit down to have a pee.
The worst lavartorial disaster I've heard of was a friend who was in the navy years ago,got taken home by a girl he met in a club and needed a big job evacuation sharpish,he went to her toilet and produced a ferocious projectile liguid jobbie and to his utter horror found there was no toilet paper to be seen,after about ten minutes (girl shouting up are you all right) he decided he must use the sink as a bidet he swung round and sat on the sink putting too much weight on it tearing it off the wall with an almighty crash ,water spouting everywhere undies round ankles,he rushed downstairs pulling his trousers up hailed a cab and never went within miles of the area again for years
every time we meet up for a few drinks he recounts the story,I always end up nearly weeping with laughter,what must that poor girl have thought when entering the destroyed bathroom, (not to mention possible fecal matter everywhere)he said thought of having to explain what happened made him panic and run like hell
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