Metro 60

Richard Herring: A wee bit of toilet trouble turns nasty in a car park
Friday 19 Apr 2013 6:00 am

Weeing in a car park can get you in trouble with bouncers

As a younger man I used to shy away from confrontation but nowadays I seem to be sticking up for myself, even in the face of extreme danger.

I was at a music gig and during the interval was busting for a wee. The queues for the Portakabin toilets were very long so I made the desperate and antisocial decision to do my business on a patch of ground that doubled up as a car park. A large shaven-headed bouncer eyed me as I passed but didn’t stop me. Then just as I unzipped my fly he bellowed: ‘Oi! Are you p***ing on my car?’

I now realised he had been stationed at this exit specifically to prevent this crime. He could have stopped me earlier but he wanted the theatrical effect of catching me in the act, with my weapon in my hand, like some kind of cock Columbo.

It seemed unlikely this was really his car either but I let that go and said: ‘Not yet. And I was going to p*** behind it.’

This honesty momentarily confused him.

He was now standing right beside me trying to intimidate me. But for some reason I wasn’t scared. I thought it was amusing. ‘Why are you p***ing in the car park? It’s disgusting. You animal.’

He had a point but let’s not let that get in the way of my story.

‘There’s a big queue for the toilet,’ I said.

‘So what? You will queue up with everyone else. P***ing in the car park? Disgusting.’

‘It’s not a car park though, is it? It’s a patch of ground with some cars on it. My wee would have drained away,’ I said.

‘What if everyone did that?’ he asked.
‘This piece of ground would become a fetid and unhygienic quagmire. But everyone isn’t doing it. Just me.’

I wasn’t really trying to defend myself. I was clearly in the wrong. But his brackish honeytrap had annoyed me and I didn’t like his threatening manner or his unnecessary lies about this being his vehicle. He was projecting his voice so the men in the toilet queue could hear, trying to humiliate me. But I wasn’t humiliated. Because I didn’t believe there was a man in that queue who hadn’t at some point weed in a car park. I could see he was annoyed at being appointed as anti-urine monitor and was taking his frustrations out on me.

I wasn’t going to show fear or back down. I asked him if he had never weed outside. He claimed that he hadn’t. I expressed astonishment at this lie.

I think he then called me a ‘muppet’. But he wasn’t talking distinctly and he might have called me a ‘mop-head’. I do have long unruly hair that looks like a mop but my face also resembles a blended hotchpotch of all the major
Muppet characters.

‘Wasn’t it Jesus who said: “Let he who is without sin wee the first wee?”’ I asked. He put his nose against mine and called me a muppet again.

Or maybe a mop-head.

I realised he might actually punch me and then accuse me of bleeding on his car. Common sense finally prevailed and I calmly walked over to the toilet queue. I couldn’t have gone in the car park anyway. Things dry up if I’m being watched.

Later, I felt shaken up for standing up to this gorilla. What was I thinking? I could have had my mop-head smashed in. Or my muppet head. My only regret is not clarifying which one he meant.