I was down in Caffe Nero in Hammersmith having a coffee, writing my blog and waiting for my girlfriend who had gone for a swim. I needed a wee, but thought it was worth waiting til she got there so that she could guard my bag and computer and make sure no one stole my prime spot right by the plugs. So I was relieved when she got there, as it meant I could be relieved.
I opened the toilet door to be greeted with the pungent smell of someone else's urine - perhaps not that unusual for a toilet, but usually it's just a faint and diluted aroma. This was concentrated piss, the nasal equivalent of drinking some Robinson's Barley water straight from the bottle. And it was immediately obvious why the scent was so overpowering. On the floor was a large puddle of liquid. I didn't get down on my hands and knees to smell it or dip in my finger so I could give it a taste to confirm my suspicions, but I can be pretty sure it was urine. Someone had made a quarter-hearted attempt to clean up the mess, there was a piece of toilet paper (maybe four sheets long) in the middle of the quagmire, but it was sodden with urine and it would have taken about twenty times this amount of paper to really make any kind of dent on this flood of excreta. How someone had managed to get so close to a toilet and yet then fail to get so much of their waste into the actual lavatory was a bit of a mystery. Hey, we all have those moments where things go a bit awry and I am sure many men's aim can be a bit hit and miss and there might be the occasional unexpected dribble (especially as you get older I am afraid to forewarn you), but if you are standing in a puddle of your own micturated fluids, like a foul smelling Dr Foster, then surely you'd stop peeing or at least do all you could to redirect the flow into the actual urine collecting equipment that was in front of you. This looked like pretty much like a full bladder of urine just willfully deposited on the floor. And yes, it's possible someone was ill or incapable of controlling themselves for whatever reason, but then maybe as a courtesy to the other people who are going to walk into this room and possible have to take down their trousers and undergarments to at least quietly mention the issue to a member of staff.
I wasn't sure I could use the toilet in this state, but I had been waiting for some time and it was a matter of some urgency. My intial reaction was still to leave the smelly, fetid bog behind and I told my girlfriend what I had seen. But then I thought - hey, I am only doing a wee and the puddle is in front of the toilet. I can go around it and stand to the side of the bowl and do my business from there. If I don't breathe in too deeply I should get through this.
So I side-stepped the wee-sea and did just that. But ten seconds into the wee someone tried the toilet door. Sometimes something like that can make you jolt and had I not been a man of firmer standing I might have added to Lake Urea-rior, but unlike the previous occupant of this stall I was shooting at least 95% of my urine directly into the porcelain receptacle. But a new fear overcame me. Whoever was waiting outside would come through that door as soon as I left, would see and smell the pee ocean and assume that I was the perpetrator of this awful crime.
If I just walked boldly out of the room without saying anything I would look even more guilty, but if I attempted to explain it all away by saying, "Be careful, it's a bit messy in there. It wasn't me that did it," then I might look even more like the person responsible. There was nothing I could do that wouldn't be embarrassing and implicate me, aside from attempting to clear up the mess with toilet paper, which would take a long time, be unpleasant and be unlikely to really clear up the mess efficiently. The person outside would have heard the commotion from the clear up and then been absolutely certain that I had done the anti-social crime, because no one but an idiot, an employee of the cafe or a urine obsessed pervert would clean up the mess of a stranger.
I had resolved to take what I considered the least bad option and to forewarn the person and deny responsibility by showing my disgust (though wondered if they would think it odd that I had chosen to use such a fetid facility and assume that I must have been the one who did it). Didn't I owe it to warn them anyway, just in case they blithely walked in and got urine on their shoes, or worse on their bag or clothes?
But as it happened the person waiting looked like they might well be a Japanese tourist and in the instant I opened the door I made the decision that attempting an explanation to a person who might not speak English in the doorway of a lavatory might be more unsettling than actually encountering the urine puddle. I said nothing and walked out as if nothing was awry, implicating myself, but avoiding direct embarrassment. My girlfriend had seen the person queuing and anticipated the dilemma I had found myself in and felt for me. "They will think it was me," I told her.
"I know," she gravely responded.
But it's odd how embarrassing the situation was. I had planned to just mention that the bathroom might need cleaning to the people at the counter as I left, but not only were they serving people coffee and food, which made it feel inappropriate, I also felt however public spirited I was actually being I would be essentially ordering someone to clean a toilet and worse still I felt that they were bound to assume that I had done the sinful wee. Or why else would I have brought the subject up? I would look like I had weed all over the floor, only then to go and command that some innocent and poorly paid employee should go and clean up my misplaced micuration.
Yet by saying nothing I had potentially just left more people in danger of splashing in the urine or being placed in the same position where they had to come out of the pissy toilet and face the walk of shame past another toilet user, even though they had done nothing wrong.
In other news, Edinburgh looms ever closer. Today I got my accommodation sorted - my girlfriend and me are spending a ludicrous amount of money for a one bedroom flat, but it will be great to have our own place and it's even got a parking space! Tonight, as if I hadn't got enough on my plate this week, I even had a crack at doing some material for the show. Managed about 15 minutes from the notes I had cobbled together in the day and it went OK. It feels exciting to be back on that horse and trying to come up with a brand new show (which I haven't done for two years, because COAB was already fairly well formed). I am really looking forward to working up a new hour. I don't know how much of tonight's stuff will make it into the final show, but it was noticeably of a different style and content to the other stand up I did to fill up the hour. In fact it was a massive gear shift to move from sweet observations on first loves to hand signs for anal sex. Be interesting to see what the tone of the show will be this year. It might be a little calmer and maybe (ironically for a show which claims to be aiming to destroy love) quite sweet and romantic.
And someone did illegally tape my gig at Warwick Arts Centre. Weirdly they handed a disc of it to superfan Andy McH at the DVD record last night (rather than giving it to me - I wouldn't have been angry). It's only the audio, but it's not bad quality. It passes much more quickly than I remember and shows even my immediate reminiscences weren't entirely accurate (and I forgot some quite good bits), but
have a listen.
I was also sent a link to
this rather flattering, but lovely blog about Collings and Herrin. It is amazing that our shit can mean so much to people, but also rather accurately reflects our reasons for doing this. This week with the DVD record and the new AIOTM
has highlighted the fact that we're part of a small and odd, but weirdly cool community. Something also demonstrated by the amazing total that has already been reached for the new SCOPE programme fund with about £700 being added today alone. If you're part of this community then it seems appropriate that any payment you might want to make should go to charity. So do join in with that if you can afford to. And after Saturday's final gig (rapture allowing) I will let you know the final total for the Christ on a Bike collections. Thanks so much for your support, you fucking idiots.
