Question two? Who wants to hear about the toilet-that-broke-on-a-date? YOU do? Okay. Here it is.
Last year I went on a couple of dates with a lovely young chap. It didn't go anywhere - there wasn't "that spark", but the lady who gets him will be a lucky lady indeed. And it is just as well that he has a calm character. Because I hit his house like a whirlwind of destruction.
Here is what happened.
That day I was very nervous because he said he would cook for me at his place. Being a good Christian girl, I was not sure this was entirely appropriate for a third date, but him being a good Christian lad and all that, I thought, well, it can't go wrong. But I was still nervous about how the evening might proceed. For one thing, I wasn't feeling that I wanted to kiss him, after all, we'd not even held hands, and I am quite a slow starter when it comes to all that romance malarky. So with that and all the other pressures (ie not telling my friends because they'd all be ultra nosey and want to interfere), I was unable to perform during my regular morning slot of 7:25 to 8:10. Believe me, I am so organised that even my bowels operate in synch with my diary. My bladder has a filofax. Actually, no the little beggar has a blackberry which keeps going off in meetings.
But I digress.
As a consequence of not indulging in a bout of deep-sea otter chasing, I was feeling a little bloated during the day. Merms is not a fatty by a long wave, but I certainly did not feel like swimming much that day. I nibbled a salad for lunch, thinking that I did not want to get to his house and not eat anything he'd cooked.
However, the salad worked a wonderful release for me. At 7:25 to 8:10 that evening the fact of the matter became clear to me. I needed to go.
I was at his house.
Dating Rule 101: Never go for a dump in a friend's house if you can possibly help it, and NEVER go for a spell on the porcelain throne the first time your date asks you to come to his house. MEN - this really applies to you, but ladies, do not be complacent. The Mermaid of Moorgate succumbed to the pressure. The Mermaid of Moorgate was on the verge of doing the turtle.
I excused myself.
I followed the laws of toilet etiquette. I carefully laid a barrier of Andrex upon the water, and started to run the sink tap to hide any noise. I performed. Rather beautifully and noiselessly. I ....
Have you ever seen Dumb and Dumber? It's one of the best films ever.
If you didn't do so, the video below is what you should watch NOW before continuing to read this post.
The toilet didnt flush.
I tried it again.
Nada
I tried it a third time.
Zip.
By now I am panicking. There's no window to open, and I can't find any air freshener.
I layered some more bog roll over the top of the log.
I sprayed my perfume into the air and tried to flush again.
It started to flush
...and flush
and flush...
"Mermaid, are you alright in there?"
"Yes! Just looking for my ... er... comb! There's so much trash in the bag I can't find it."
Where is the toilet brush?
Stab at the log! Stab the pig! Stab the pig! Down, Tarka, Down! Swim for your life down the china tunnel....
I finally got it to flow away, but the water kept rising. The flush came down and the floods came up, looking a bit like a bulemic's dinner.
By now the lid of the toilet was off - YES HITCH AND OLD TARF I HAVE BEEN FIXING MANY TOILETS IN MY HISTORY - as regular readers of this blog will know (if you click here you will see what I mean: Toilet Seats)and I was trying to stop the ballcock from sinking. But the plug was broken in any event.
After about 10 mins the water had run clear and it was flushing normally.
I exited, victorious but badly shaken by the experience.
Two hours later, during which time he burned the salmon en croute and a fox ran into the living room and just stood there looking at us, he went to the bathroom.
"I think the toilet is flooding. It keeps on flushing."
I took out my cheque book and grabbed my coat. Being a gentleman, he refused to accept my cheque. Being a lady I refused to stay any longer.
and that was the last date we had.
47 comments:
What an appalling experience Merms. Couldn't you have tried to blame the toilet problem on the Fox? Tricky things Foxes. Particularly where toilets are concerned.
Dear Mermaid, the next time you've got a date, I know the devil of a suppository I can get for you. To be on the safe side, ask the fellow to make sure his WC is in good order before you arrive. It's never a lady's fault if the toilet won't flush.
You know dear
I think I am beginning to understand why you are single., although I have dated worse.
And ex of mine who shall remain nameless(Bridget)was partialy bulimic, i say partialy as she hadnt quite got the hang of skinny, not that she needed to.
She was in the habit of gobbling down a handful of ex lax before retiring for the evening, so most mornings I was awoken by a sound not unlike an elephant blowing a rasberry into a porcelain megaphone.
One morning something went terribly wrong and whilst snuggling in the spoons position the elephant rasberried, yup, my lap looked like I had vommed a 1kg bar of cadburys fruit and nut into it. you have never seen a quilt fly higher or faster as I kicked her out of bed whilst shielding my carpets with the sheets and containing the contents of my lap and dragging us both to the shower.
Needless to say, the magic went out of the relationship.
Hitch, you have some brilliant stories. that put the first real smile on my face in weeks!
Apart from dad's singing on You-Tube.
MM- I resemble that remark.
I have that sweater for you to destroy when you get over. Do not forget to bring some Aromat before you arrive( all purpose seasoning).
I have some cloves!
Mermaid, that really is the first serious laugh I have had in weeks. Very well told!
Lap it up, Scout, lap it up. For you lot, it's a laugh. For me, this is my life. Broken toilets, embarrassing events and stories about poo.
No wonder I am still single.
AI YAH!
And I have found someone new, much younger, to stalk.
oh that was beautifully written - so funny.
My life is like that too - a daily trial of poo and foxy presences.
I hope things cheer up for you soon.
Ai yah!
I have been discussing you with my medical assistant, who like yourself , is a God botherer. We have come to the conclusion that like Christ you need to cast your net further.
Stop chasing these nancy boy milksops who hang around churches.
Better that you look for a proper man and then convert him to your sky pilot ways rather than picking a wimp and trying to turn him into a man (never happens), hanging around new (single)converts also ensures that you tend to meet the worst of that type.
Here endeth the lesson.
Oh, Shit!!!
A triumphant return. The brief sabbatical obviously helped.
The fox coming into the living room was a really unexpected twist. You couldn't make that up.
Boy scouts camping trip I was on a newby came up to me and said "I need a poo" I told him to go behind a tree and to hold a branch and lean backwards. 5 mins later he returns with the branch in his hand an shit all over his trousers.
Women should never poo on first dates. In fact they should never poo full stop.
Never dump at a friend's house. The single most useful life rule ever. If you want to put a relationship to the test go ahead and weight anchor... it's a true friend indeed who can view a chocolate Loch Ness monster not of his own making with amused tolerance...
PS... Paddy's mum, that reference about friends being nosey did not, of course, refer to you. I meant people from the place I attend each week
I am almost embarassed to let you know this tale, so similar is it you yours. An old mate of mine, spit image of Dudley Moore, was invited for the first time to GF's parent's house for a weekend. Great ceremony, lovely supper Firday night, bottle of good champagne, all went well with the prospective in-laws. About 8am Saturday morning Dudley descended the stairs tippy-toe to enjoy his morning ritual bathroom visit. Afetr 10 minutes of labouring, he produced a specimen that, like yours, simply would not die. Worse, in attempting to slaughter this Hindenburg, a very large amount of splashing and caking of the walls took place. Eventually, bathed in sweat and panting, he gave up, opened the bathroom window, climbed out, crept to his car, started it as quietly as possible, and slid slowly down the drive back to London. Only the twitch of the curtains in the parents' bedchamber suggested his departure had been noticed.
Like you, he was not invited back.
Mr T
I can of course beat that lavatorial anecdote.
Many years ago I was enjoying a lunch at the yang sing in manchester when the inevitable urge came upon me after a huge ingestion of chilli and various spices. Luckily I was in time to secure the only cubicle, dropped my pants and hovered
(no time to put tissue down plus being so well endowed its difficult to stop mr happy hitting the dirty porcelain)) Then I , erupted, well safe to say more doo doo hit the walls and seat than hit the bowl (I always was a lousy shot)so then the clean up operation began, first myself then the trap, all made worse by some chinese muttering outside of the door, all was looking well , I had cleaned my ring, and got rid of most of the spalsh on the walls when disaster struck ,NO MORE BOG ROLL! )+:
I had to leave the cubicle with "marks" on the walls and then face an irate elderley chinese guy desperate for a dump, I left him by saying "Im afraid somebody has made a bit of a mess in there, its a disgrace" rushed out and ordered my bill. althoughIt did make me smile to think of Ho Chi mIn relieving himself, and glad that the round eye had left only to find himself with the same problem but lacking any bog roll.
"doing the turtle"?
Mermins, really?
I am afraid I don't have any further toilet related anecdotes to add to this melee- its probably because I haven't had a date in years....
Hilarious...still, not such a big deal since you didn't really fancy him anyway. I am envious of your regular bowels though.
I can beat Hitch. (again)
I was meant to be early turn and Snow Hill Police station and phoned in to say I was going to be late for work.
"Why, Kevin ?"
"'cause I've just shat all over the Section House floor."
I was shaving in front of the mirror and had sneezed (I was only wearing a towell round my waist) I didn't realise I wasn't ... secure.
I suppose I didn't have to tell the duty sergeant the full story but that's the kind of guy I am and they loved it.
I was reminded of this at the recent reunion after nearly 20 years.
aw, its stories like this that bring us together.
Friends united in poop
It quite "moving"
I assume from the fact you took your cheque-book along that you anticipate damaging something on your dates...
Good grief, Mermaid, you certainly know how to put the log into scatalogical. House-hunting recently (don't get me started), a likely prospect had a master bedroom with ensuite that had a shower and a bidet but no toilet. (An oldish house with peculiar plumbing.) Inevitably speculation ensued re what this arranegment implied about the vendors' (one was a doctor) personal habits...anyway a builder was consulted who suggested replacing the bidet with a toilet & running a pipe out the side of the house with a "macerator" on the external wall just outside the bathroom. This was not deemed an agreable prospect, for all kinds of reasons, as you may imagine. In fact imagination probably doesn't even come into it, you've probably wrecked several in your time :-)
As an undeniably manly God-botherer I take issue with the hitch's comment that people like me cannot exist. I can think of several other manly God-botherers off the top of my head.
I admit that Cliff isn't doing us any favours in the manliness department though.
He he he! And the merms think she knows who wrote THAT comment!
Hitch, indeed, you had best be worried lest an army of manly Christians come and throw organic Bibles at you.
And I will be there to write about it.
Foxes and turtle heads and all round good manners. It sounds even more daunting than I'd imagined. I thought it was meant to be all cocoa and scrabble. How can you know if you're compatible if you don't even play scrabble together? Madness.
Who would win in a fight? Cliff Richard or Rowan Williams?
Merms
Thanks to Eve I keep finding myself bothering the big chap on a regular basis, and I have to say, he keeps answering, in little ways, but he still keeps helping me.
I cant say that I am ready to get into a hug with strangers and wish them peace just yet,however, I am getting ready to show my face at my local Anglo Catholic church, all the bells and smells but without Pope worship.
Cliff Richard would win. He looks like her might turn vicious if provoked, and no one with dress sense like that can be entirely free of psychotic tendencies.
Rowan the Badger would just waffle and circumlocute uselessly as Cliff sank his teeth into his throat.
I love this quintessentially English thread. On a tangent I have a theory that UK lavatories are responsible for overloading the NHS. If we had to squat to poo then we would all have nice strong hip joints,backs and thighs and would save orthopaedics a fortune.
okay okay mermaid...i have cleaned both of my toilets now...happy? lmao
Daisy
Two lavatories?
That is sheer decadence.
I was brought up in a time when we were glad for an outside soil box shared with 30 other families and a pot under the bed. I recall many a morning when I had to break the ice with a half brick before taking a poop and wiping myself with the communal damp rag.
We may have been poor, degraded and malnourished, but we were happy and proud of our degradation and rickets , we bore it as a badge of honour.
You Americans would never understand.
oh ffs hitch...we all know you don't shit without someone there with a golden threaded rag to wipe your arse...
Hitch: We`ve got three lavatories. Nah nah nah nah nah. Ha!
BTW Have you started Yet another blog or, are you still lighting candles at your local 'God Spot'. Light one for me , I could do with some divine intervention, since you put a curse on me. Tee Hee!
Fleet of Worlds: Indeed, foxes are tricky little things... but as Badgers and foxes are notorious enemies, might we then pit a fox against Rowan Williams? If it rains out, Sir Cliff can sing.
Trubes! Three lavatories! What on earth do you get up to that means you have to have three bogs? Never invite me up to Scouse-land, I might break all of them in a fit of beans.
Hitch, glad that Eve is having such a positive effect on you! I still would not trust you 100 per cent around a candle though...
Gorilla - why would I need a suppository? One would suggest, rather, a cork. A large one.
EK- I think the award for embarrassing poo stories does go to you this time, Congratulations darling! Although I loved Hitch's story about the anorexic spoon girl! ha ha ha
Trubes
THREE????????????
I didnt think there were three lavatories in Liverpool, amazing.
Merms as to Eve, she doesnt trust me with matches so I have a battery operated candle(no smutty jokes)it flashes on and off and plays Ave' Maria.
I think it would take several foxes to do a thorough job on Rowan, as the first few would likely die of boredom before they could sink their teeth in.
I have started to worry about you Ms Mermaid...
Just found your blog. How embarrassing. But sorry I laughed!!
Poetessxxx
Golly, you are seriously funny ol' mermaid.
No wonder I love you to bits.
lol. the old shit and run would have been the best option but hey. we've all been there. this is why globus never does a number 2 at work.
Wow all I can say is that you are a great writer! Where can I contact you if I want to hire you?
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