Barry Haynes, 53, a chartered surveyor from Bromsgrove, has realised the inevitability of his own death, it has emerged. The moment of epiphany came as he stood side by side in the toilets of a local restaurant with his son Ryan, 17, during a family celebration.
‘As I feebly dribbled away while he let loose a veritable Niagara, two things struck me. Well, three if you count the spray from the next stall,’ said Barry. ‘First, I remembered that I used to do that. Second, that I never would again. And third, it was the perfect metaphor for the passing of the torch down the generations. All things must pass, as a wise man once said, and I must pass too. And not just pass water. Hang on, was that three things or four? I rather lose track these days.’
‘Man’s rise and fall can be measured in his micturition: from the occasional, unpredictable fountain of infancy to the steady stream of early youth, to the raging swell of our early manhood and onwards to the hesitant dripping of old age, like a river that dries up in summer, we cannot escape our inevitable doom or the bleak indifference of the universe to our brief, insignificant lives.’
Ryan could not be contacted for comment, although it was unofficially reported that he subsequently stood outside the gents at the Golden Peacock Tandoori wiping his hands on his shirt and describing his father as ‘well rank’.
Pamela Haynes, respectively wife and mother to the pair, added: ‘I’m not really interested if one does it through hydraulic power and the other relies on gravity, the fact is that both of their trousers smell of piss.’