On Saturday night i went to Shunt bar in London Bridge tube station. It was brilliant, like an art gallery with Stella on tap. I had to bail just as the experimental jazz was in full scatty boo doop swing. One of the joys of living where i do is i have to often make like Cinderella and get the last train to Hayes.
So i climbed on board with my Magners concealed in my handbag, thanks for that Boris. By the time i got off at Clock house i really needed a piss, thanks for that Magners. So i waited for the platform to clear before i hunted for a secluded spot. My bladder would only allow me to hunt within a 2 meter radius so i had to make do a garden of some council flats. I needed to go super bad so it was over real quick and because i wasn't on a hill it didn't get on my shoes.
It had been a pretty successful wee until i tried to pull up my pants without having to expose myself by standing up. I stumbled into the waiting spikes of some thorny foliage and got three big scratches across my bum. Luckily alcohol had provided me with enough sedatation not to feel anything.
I just tried to take some photos in the toilets of my scratched bum. Someone saw me go in to cubicle though and would of heard my camera phone flashing, she probably thought i was taking photos to send in to an online website for people with embarrassing medical problems. Brilliant. I decided against the photos anyway, i know what happens when you put your bum on the internet. Instead i put a photo up of the culprit.
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