I was standing in the gents toilets, aiming at the small deep hole down which Martin Mullen lost his designer sunglasses some years ago. Suddenly my feet were getting splashed. I checked my aim and found it accurate. I stood on my left foot, aiming carefully and stared in disbelief at the wave coming from the next stall.
It could have been worse. The chap was washing his hair with the bathroom hose. We both came out at the same time. He looked at me strangely as I rinsed my feet in the wash basin, but as he was holding his head under the hand drier and dabbing his thobe with paper towels, he hadn’t much room to comment.
It could have been worse. The chap was washing his hair with the bathroom hose. We both came out at the same time. He looked at me strangely as I rinsed my feet in the wash basin, but as he was holding his head under the hand drier and dabbing his thobe with paper towels, he hadn’t much room to comment.
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