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Trains of thought are strange, convoluted things. Sherlock Holmes believed that he could follow them just by observing a person's gestures, the outwards manifestations of what they were thinking.
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What would he have made of me in the bath this morning?
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A few key features of my bathroom need to be described first.
A few key features of my bathroom need to be described first.
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My bathroom is the size of most people's bedrooms (conversely, my bedroom is the size of most people's bathrooms). As it stands, my bathroom was commissioned by the gay couple who owned my flat before me. It was installed by the guy who painted the flat for them. He was not chosen on the basis of any previous plumbing skills, he had none, but mostly because he looked good working in faded jeans and a ripped T shirt. Yes, life was just one long rollicking Diet Coke ad for the boys over the several months he took to complete his work.
My bathroom is the size of most people's bedrooms (conversely, my bedroom is the size of most people's bathrooms). As it stands, my bathroom was commissioned by the gay couple who owned my flat before me. It was installed by the guy who painted the flat for them. He was not chosen on the basis of any previous plumbing skills, he had none, but mostly because he looked good working in faded jeans and a ripped T shirt. Yes, life was just one long rollicking Diet Coke ad for the boys over the several months he took to complete his work.
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Sadly for me, moving in shortly after he 'finished', the resulting bathroom was a poorly-plumbed deathtrap including such unique fittings as:
- Huge 120lb chipboard cupboard doors, held in place by tiny hinges. The doors periodically break free and attempt to decapitate whoever's in the bathroom at the time
- A pair of matching wash basins, side by side, that just scream out gay to any visiting Christian Fundamentalists
- A bath the size of the Queen Mary, large enough to accommodate a couple of snuggly cohabitants and, in their dreams, a criminally useless odd job man armed solely with his toolbox and a thong. Sadly, the standard sized hot water tank only holds enough hot water to fill the bath by a few inches
- And this is the most important bit, the bath plug hole is located in the centre of the bath. The hole was originally covered by a mechanically-linked rising plug which broke almost straight away. The hole is now filled with a normal, in and out, plug.
This is the kind of thing that can happen when you let your sexuality spill over into non sexual areas of your life. I wouldn't select a plumber or mechanic solely on the basis that she looked like Milla Jovovich or chose to work in a bikini, that would be plain daft
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... mmmmm, well, OK, maybe I would
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Anyway, back to my chain of though this morning …
- Had a soak in a lukewarm bath
- Searched for shampoo. Shampoo all gone
- Thought back to my father and his long-standing habit of washing his hair with dish washing detergent. Also remembered that he used to bathe in his underpants, wring them out afterward and leave them to dry out on the towel rail for use the next morning (more on these and other amusing habits another time)
- Lay back in the bath. Decided to get out. Reached between my legs and pulled plug out
- Testicles sucked straight into plug hole, hard enough to form a watertight seal
- Ouch
- Testicles continue in their determined bid to escape to the Thames and freedom
- Images of deleted scenes from Finding Nemo flash through my pain-wracked brain. Scenes featuring brightly coloured fish swimming around the Barrier Reef, accompanied by my smiling, animated ball sack
- Still nailed firmly to bottom of bath.
- Eyes watering now
- Eventually managed to yank nads out of plug hole by using tip of little finger to first break the seal
- Realised the true reason why my father bathed in his underwear. Kind of upset with him for not telling me on my 18th.
2 comments:
Does your life flash before your eyes also ? I think this would be a good climax to a James Bond film, Bond is forced to take a bath at gunpoint, doesn't realise where the plug is and a scar-faced villain pulls it out, arching his neck back and laughing at the same time. He extricates himself of course but is unable to perform sexually prior to the closing credits.
Also it is nice to see another C2 post balancing with the numerous ABC1 posts.
When you say 'C2 Post' I presume you're using ad agency speak for 'knob gag'?
Sadly, Tracy reminded me this evening that there is a vaguely similar bath scene in Priscilla Queen of the Desert. Which means that my scrotum shredding escapades were far from original as Guy Pierce has done it all before ...
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