Friends are becoming increasingly concerned for a man who visited the restaurant toilet over 20 minutes ago, unaware that he remains unable to commit to any one of the seven available urinals. Colin Dobson is getting a right sweat on and an increasingly agitated bladder, as he attempts to narrow down his choices to enable him to perform the normal bodily function of urine excretion.
We have exclusive access into Colin’s inner thought process: ‘Right. Think about this logically. If someone enters mid-stream which is the least-weirdest urinal to be using?’
‘Okay. Not the ones right at each end, obviously. That just looks like I don’t want them to catch the slightest glimpse of my penis due to its smallness, or some hideous abnormality or they think I’m pretending to wee while I wait to meet a stranger for sex.’
‘Good. We’re making progress. Not the middle one, obviously. That’s just basically, ‘come and look at my enormous wanger while I wazz like an excessively hydrated race horse.’
‘That leaves two on either side. Hmmm. Any of those makes me look like I’m trying too hard to hide my small/hideous and/or enormous junk and/or that I’m just pretending because I’m waiting to meet a stranger for sex.’
‘Right. Cubicle it is. Wait, what are you thinking? People will think I’m having a number two is way worse.’
One friend commented: ‘Yep, he’s still in there. If I had to guess, when washing his hands, he accidentally splashed himself in a way that makes him look like he’s wee’d himself, and so he’s busy trying to manoeuvre his groin area into the air dryer.’
‘Am I right?’