Students urged to urinate in the shower...

[Lets B Avenue]

On a not unrelated subject, is there anything more scary than getting up for a **** in the middle of the night, leaving the light off so as not to wake anyone, starting the steady stream and NOT hearing that oh so familiar tinkling splashing sound? You know it's landing somewhere but no idea where. The only clue is whether you're feet are getting wet or not. Do you need to go up? down? left? right? What's the best technique for getting yourself back "on target"? I favour the spiral approach but this can quickly get out of control if the target isn't located quickly.

 

In the immortal words of James.

 

Sit Down.

[Whitey Grandad]

I saw a notice in a toilet in Scotland somewhere, probably Kirkwall. It went something like:

 

Gentlemen: If you stand closer to the urinal it might improve your aim.

 

Ladies: please remain seated for the entire performance.

[tpbury]

Yeah, so true Wurzel.

 

I often channel the voice of Hughie Green and the dexterity of Bernie the Bolt in such situations.

 

My best mate growing up was born on the "wrong side of the tracks" according to my Dad, and as a result of that (and a couple of court appearances) my Dad didn't like my mate.

 

My mate was a fairly sensitive type and so for years he'd avoid coming to my place if my Dad was in. Anyway, one night, I think it might have been my 18th, we got pretty wasted and so my mate stayed over. I got woken at about 4am to the sound of a commotion, so I turned on the bedroom light to see my mate sitting on the end of his bed with his knees against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He was swaying back and forth looking pretty sorry for himself.

 

He looked in a bad way so I asked him if he was alright. He said he was so I turned the light off and went back to sleep.

 

In the morning it turned out that my mate had pissed on the landing outside my Mum and Dad's bedroom door. My Dad woke up mid-stream and went mental.

 

He never did forgive him.

 

I did the exact same with thing at two of my mates - I only have 4 mates, so I guess I am really well liked.

 

Can you let me know the word for blinking wich sounds like micturating - can't find it. Ta

[sadoldgit]

I once wiped my arse with a £10 note.

I was very, very drunk.

 

Did you spend it later?

[pap]

OK pap, two questions immediately present themselves:

 

1) Are you a flannel or sponge man?

 

2) When you have guests, do you have guest flannels or guest sponges?

 

Oh and BTW, the wife and I can no longer make it next weekend. I know we'd planned to stay over, but something's come up.

 

Alas bletch, my commitment to this idea doesn't extend to implementation, so the effort you've put into this attempted interrogation (jack boots on already, I bet) would seem to be wasted. I can already sense the disappointment, so am hoping the following information is some small consolation.

 

A consequence of having a forebear from Karachi are some odd wipeage habits. Many houses there have a jug next to the loo. You fill it up and wash most of the crap off before going on to wipe.

 

 

This was one tradition my nan didn't get to put the kibosh on. It's difficult to argue that your kids should dry wipe and potentially go around smelling of sh!t. Pain in the arse (not literally) but the general distrust of dry wiping persists.

 

As a consequence, I don't dry wipe, ever. I use scandalous amounts of bog paper, wet it somehow, and don't stop until the brown has been eliminated. It is a problematic quirk. Take cubicles for example. I have to catch water from a flushing bog, normally three or four times to get the job done. Simply dipping the bog roll into the loo defeats the whole purpose of striving for a "rust"-free sheriff's badge, so you have to stand up, turn around and get ready to catch the jets.

 

By the end of it all, the bloke in the next cubicle thinks that you have eaten, digested and shat out S-Club 7. The person coming in after you sees droplets of water that dripped on the floor when the bog roll was making the journey from flush to arse, then sends a company wide email announcing his disgust that someone has peed all over the gents floors and asking "can we all learn to aim better?".

 

If nothing else, it just goes to show the speed at which people rush to judgement these days. Anyone making such heinous accusations should probably have taken a lick first.

Edited 11 October, 2014 by pap

[Halo Stickman]

Waking up to find that I'd p1ssed in the airing cupboard was a rather too frequent pastime of mine when I was a drunken teenager.

[saintbletch]

Alas bletch, my commitment to this idea doesn't extend to implementation, so the effort you've put into this attempted interrogation (jack boots on already, I bet) would seem to be wasted. I can already sense the disappointment, so am hoping the following information is some small consolation.

 

A consequence of having a forebear from Karachi are some odd wipeage habits. Many houses there have a jug next to the loo. You fill it up and wash most of the crap off before going on to wipe.

 

 

This was one tradition my nan didn't get to put the kibosh on. It's difficult to argue that your kids should dry wipe and potentially go around smelling of sh!t. Pain in the arse (not literally) but the general distrust of dry wiping persists.

 

As a consequence, I don't dry wipe, ever. I use scandalous amounts of bog paper, wet it somehow, and don't stop until the brown has been eliminated. It is a problematic quirk. Take cubicles for example. I have to catch water from a flushing bog, normally three or four times to get the job done. Simply dipping the bog roll into the loo defeats the whole purpose of striving for a "rust"-free sheriff's badge, so you have to stand up, turn around and get ready to catch the jets.

 

By the end of it all, the bloke in the next cubicle thinks that you have eaten, digested and shat out S-Club 7. The person coming in after you sees droplets of water that dripped on the floor when the bog roll was making the journey from flush to arse, then sends a company wide email announcing his disgust that someone has peed all over the gents floors and asking "can we all learn to aim better?".

 

If nothing else, it just goes to show the speed at which people rush to judgement these days. Anyone making such heinous accusations should probably have taken a lick first.

 

Just checking papster, but you do know that you said all this out loud, don't you?

[saintbletch]

I did the exact same with thing at two of my mates - I only have 4 mates, so I guess I am really well liked.

 

Can you let me know the word for blinking wich sounds like micturating - can't find it. Ta

 

Would that be nictitate, burpy?

 

...and despite my self-constructed reputation for having the brain the size of a largish planet, I had to Google that - "blink synonyms".

 

So we could say that Wurzel would have nictitated if his optician had micturated in his eye...

 

...and not nictitation in a coy, come-hither sort-of-a-way, but more nictitation in a **** me, somebody just pissed in my eye, get me to casualty sort-of-a-way.

[Fowllyd]

Yeah, so true Wurzel.

 

I often channel the voice of Hughie Green and the dexterity of Bernie the Bolt in such situations.

 

My best mate growing up was born on the "wrong side of the tracks" according to my Dad, and as a result of that (and a couple of court appearances) my Dad didn't like my mate.

 

My mate was a fairly sensitive type and so for years he'd avoid coming to my place if my Dad was in. Anyway, one night, I think it might have been my 18th, we got pretty wasted and so my mate stayed over. I got woken at about 4am to the sound of a commotion, so I turned on the bedroom light to see my mate sitting on the end of his bed with his knees against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He was swaying back and forth looking pretty sorry for himself.

 

He looked in a bad way so I asked him if he was alright. He said he was so I turned the light off and went back to sleep.

 

In the morning it turned out that my mate had pissed on the landing outside my Mum and Dad's bedroom door. My Dad woke up mid-stream and went mental.

 

He never did forgive him.

 

I'm sorry my lord Bletch, but I just can't believe this tale. Are you seriously trying to tell us that there's a right side of the tracks in Gosport?

[tpbury]

Would that be nictitate, burpy?

 

...and despite my self-constructed reputation for having the brain the size of a largish planet, I had to Google that - "blink synonyms".

 

So we could say that Wurzel would have nictitated if his optician had micturated in his eye...

 

...and not nictitation in a coy, come-hither sort-of-a-way, but more nictitation in a **** me, somebody just pissed in my eye, get me to casualty sort-of-a-way.

 

Ta for that. I had oc course done a search, but couldn't find it and it had started to bug me.

 

To Pap - isn't wet wipes the modern solution to avoiding being taken for someone engaged in a dirty protest? Surely this must have occurred to you at some point in your adult life? I can only assume you get too much pleasure from this charming and messy post copral ritual.

[Jonnyboy]

Golden (shower) thread.

[pap]

Just checking papster, but you do know that you said all this out loud, don't you?

Indeed I did.

 

One part honesty equals 1,000 me too replies.

[saintbletch]

I'm sorry my lord Bletch, but I just can't believe this tale. Are you seriously trying to tell us that there's a right side of the tracks in Gosport?

 

Ah it's all relative Flyd-owl.

 

I often describe Gosport as being like Rio, or any of the other truly great boroughs of the world that see one population leading two very different lives based on the location of their birth.

 

There is a line on the map that winds lazily around the peninsular a few hundred yards (more in some places) back from the coast and the wonderful views of the Solent. If you're fortunate enough to have been born shore-side of that line, then you would have gone to the better school(s), will have been raised in a spacious and well-appointed home, will likely have been brought up with the sort of cash in the family that allows you to raise your horizons above the now to plan where you want to be, and will likely have been taken to the opera in London by your Uncle Francis at least twice a year - on your birthday and his.

 

Then there is the other side of the line.

 

If fate turned the river card at the occasion of your birth that confined you to a life away from the shore, then you were likely brought up with very little comforts, would have spent most of your youth in back alleys kicking anything round or with DNA, would probably have gone to any number of the average-to-bad schools that failed to bring out and develop your latent talent, would have been exposed to happiness-proxies like gangs, drink and drugs, would have grown up to hear that more than a few of your acquaintances had died due to a frankly unbelievable, Wire-like ghettoisation of heroin territories, but if you were lucky you were loved by your family and made many life-long friendships.

 

So you see Gosport and Rio have a great deal in common.

 

Oh, and the Gosport Mardi Gras is quite something to behold.

[saintbletch]

Indeed I did.

 

One part honesty equals 1,000 me too replies.

 

...and that's why I "forum-heart" you papster.

 

By the way, I know you and Mrs pap where coming down to stay in a couple of weeks, but something's come up.

 

I'll get back to you with some new dates...

[Whitey Grandad]

Those with the river card also have to suffer a view of Portsmouth. Life can be a bîtch sometimes.

[Fowllyd]

Ah it's all relative Flyd-owl.

 

I often describe Gosport as being like Rio, or any of the other truly great boroughs of the world that see one population leading two very different lives based on the location of their birth.

 

There is a line on the map that winds lazily around the peninsular a few hundred yards (more in some places) back from the coast and the wonderful views of the Solent. If you're fortunate enough to have been born shore-side of that line, then you would have gone to the better school(s), will have been raised in a spacious and well-appointed home, will likely have been brought up with the sort of cash in the family that allows you to raise your horizons above the now to plan where you want to be, and will likely have been taken to the opera in London by your Uncle Francis at least twice a year - on your birthday and his.

 

Then there is the other side of the line.

 

If fate turned the river card at the occasion of your birth that confined you to a life away from the shore, then you were likely brought up with very little comforts, would have spent most of your youth in back alleys kicking anything round or with DNA, would probably have gone to any number of the average-to-bad schools that failed to bring out and develop your latent talent, would have been exposed to happiness-proxies like gangs, drink and drugs, would have grown up to hear that more than a few of your acquaintances had died due to a frankly unbelievable, Wire-like ghettoisation of heroin territories, but if you were lucky you were loved by your family and made many life-long friendships.

 

So you see Gosport and Rio have a great deal in common.

 

Oh, and the Gosport Mardi Gras is quite something to behold.

 

Yes, I've seen the Gosport Mardi Gras - also the Lundi, Mercredi, Jeudi, Vendredi, Samedi and Dimanche Gras. A great deal to behold they all most certainly are. Actually, I've never been to Gosport on a Sunday, but I'm willing to extrapolate. Always.

 

I'm interested to hear about your Uncle Francis - he clearly played a part (and a very large one too I would think) in making you the man that you are. Tell me though - was (or indeed is) he a family member, or a close and trusted friend of your father (or mother, come to that)?

[saintbletch]

Ah folly, you've been caught in the web I spun. I wasn't born shoreside my friend.

 

Actually, I answered your original question disingenuously; or at least I didn't give you all the details. Both my mate and I were born away from the shore, but even within the same socioeconomic situation we can look at others and feel they're 'different'; tracks within tracks.

 

And so it was between my mate and my Dad. We largely abided by the law whereas my mate's family largely didn't. That, and the landing ****ing incident was all it took.

 

Uncle Francis was an allegorical adornment that I hoped would make you feel that I was talking personally.

 

By the way did you know that in Portsmouth, Gosport is known as Turk Town? How else did you think Turkish got his name? It's either his Gosport roots, or he's named himself after a homoerotic gym manoeuvre.

 

It seems even Portsmouth looks down on Gosport.

[saintbletch]

Those with the river card also have to suffer a view of Portsmouth. Life can be a bîtch sometimes.

 

It's still quite a view Whitey, and for most of them their view is mainly Wighty.

[Fowllyd]

Ah folly, you've been caught in the web I spun. I wasn't born shoreside my friend.

 

Actually, I answered your original question disingenuously; or at least I didn't give you all the details. Both my mate and I were born away from the shore, but even within the same socioeconomic situation we can look at others and feel they're 'different'; tracks within tracks.

 

And so it was between my mate and my Dad. We largely abided by the law whereas my mate's family largely didn't. That, and the landing ****ing incident was all it took.

 

I begin, I think, to understand the complex Gosport demographic. Those who live shore side could be considered the highest of the low, while your quondam mate would have been far closer to the lowest, though not all the way there perhaps. Your family, I take it, were middle low (or perhaps upper-middle low - it's a subtle distinction).

 

Uncle Francis was an allegorical adornment that I hoped would make you feel that I was talking personally.

 

Of course he is, of course he is. No more need be said.

 

By the way did you know that in Portsmouth, Gosport is known as Turk Town? How else did you think Turkish got his name? It's either his Gosport roots, or he's named himself after a homoerotic gym manoeuvre.

 

Quite possibly a bit of both I think.

 

It seems even Portsmouth looks down on Gosport.

 

But who shall those looked down on look down on? I'm fresh out of Latin today, else I'd have used some there.

[Big Bad Bob]

But who shall those looked down on look down on? I'm fresh out of Latin today, else I'd have used some there.

 

et qui despicit despiciunt

[Fowllyd]

et qui despicit despiciunt

 

Not sure of the last word there - surely it's 'they despise' rather than 'those who are despised'? On the other hand, I didn't even try, so who the hell am I to nitpick?

[Whitey Grandad]

et qui despicit despiciunt

 

And shouldn't it be 'sed' instead of 'et'?

[Big Bad Bob]

Not sure of the last word there - surely it's 'they despise' rather than 'those who are despised'? On the other hand, I didn't even try, so who the hell am I to nitpick?

 

And shouldn't it be 'sed' instead of 'et'?

 

I don't fucking know, I was never classicly schooled, I cheated, I used Google translate....

[Whitey Grandad]

I don't fucking know, I was never classicly schooled, I cheated, I used Google translate....

 

It's 50 years since my O level and all I remember is:

 

Caesar adsum jam forte, sed Brutus passus sum.

[scotty]

It's 50 years since my O level and all I remember is:

 

Caesar adsum jam forte, sed Brutus passus sum.

 

 

...ah, the immortal molesworth. Still probably the funniest stuff I've ever read.

[Big Bad Bob]

It's 50 years since my O level and all I remember is:

 

Caesar adsum jam forte, sed Brutus passus sum.

 

Ceaser had some jam for Johnno Quick, said to Brutus pass us some??

 

Or the "proper" translation