Mr Slimma: Have a great time in London and don’t get into any scrapes!
Me: Scrapes? Me? Whatever do you mean?
Mr Slimma: You know fine well. Like that time in Jakarta when you wouldn’t pay the parking man so he chased you down the street with a machete. Or the punching incident with the black marketeer in China, or how you came to be invited to a fetish….
Me: O-kay, nuff said, take your point! Moving on…
Anyway, this was completely different. I was only going to London, on the train, first class no less thanks to a newspaper deal that made first class cheaper than standard. How could I possibly get into a scrape in a train on first class? All I was going to do was sit back, relax, stare aimlessly out the window, catch up with a bit of reading and generally mind my own business.
Or so I thought.
I’d have been fine if it wasn’t for those silly new space-age loos.
All I did was press the OPEN button because a light indicated the loo was vacant. I take no responsibility for what happened next.
The massive sliding red door drew back slowly like a grand West End curtain and the show began...
Aghast at his untimely debut, Unsuspecting Man leapt off the throne and lunged Lee Majors-like towards the CLOSE button. It was a very brave attempt and he might even have pulled it off elegantly had he not forgotten his Calvins were still round his ankles, tripped, and crashed head first into the wall.
As the big red curtain fell, so to speak, I just stood there gawping. Should I knock? What if he’s concussed?
Of course what I really wanted to do was give him a standing ovation. It’s certainly the quickest my heart’s raced for a while - and they say that’s good exercise. But common decency got the better of me, so I skulked round the corner to wait my turn and let him leave the loo with as much dignity as a head wound and a bruised willy will allow.
So, what was that you were saying about scrapes again, hon? Me? No siree, I’ll just sit back, relax, stare aimlessly out the window, catch up with a bit of reading and generally mind my own business.
I mean how hard can it be?
Hmmm, well let’s just say this. If you happen to unwittingly catch a man with his pants down in a train loo, you're probably gonna find out.
