+add as contact
"Many moons ago I stopped off at a nightclub where I knew my friend, G, would be DJ'ing in the hope of blagging a lift home. Instead after closing I found myself heading back G's place for a few drinks. As the night drew to a close and a need for sleep increased, I was directed outside into the old garage that G was "converting into a guest-room".
G's idea of a conversion basically entailed of bricking up the car door and replacing it with a house style windowed front door, placing an old rug on the floor and chucking in an old mattress with a couple of blankets. Niceties such as lighting, plastering the walls and a bed frame were still on the drawing board.
Still it was a bed to crash in, and that is all that mattered.
Come the morning, I awake like most people with need a pressing need for the loo. I make my way to the door and to my horror find it locked. I look for a latch but there isn't one as its one of those that lock at the handle. Then through the window I spot the key - the dozy drunken git has only locked me in from the outside and left the key in the lock. I quickly try his mobile, but it goes straight to voicemail. The garage isn't attached to the house, so there is no point hammering on the walls as he's not going to hear me. I'm left with two choices - piss on the floor, or find something to piss in.
Using the little available light I scour the floor until I find something suitable to go in amongst the building materials. In this case a half empty bottle of white sprit. With a sense of blessed relief I drain my bladder and it never felt so good.
Eventually G releases me from my real life 'The Sims' killing chamber and drives me home. On the way I confess about the white spirit and get him to pull in at the nearest B&Q where I buy him a replacement bottle. We have a laugh about it, and theres no harm done.
Until a couple of week later.
My phone rings. It's G. "What exactly did you piss in you bastard?!?" he thundered.
"That bottle of white spirit, its the only thing I could go in. Well that or the floor" comes my apologetic reply".
"It wasn't white spirit you fucking idiot, it was the fluid for my fucking smoke machine!". "Oh" says I.
The story comes out. G was doing a private function, a big 21st birthday party or similar. Of course he grabs his gear from the garage/guest-room - speakers, decks, lights, smoke machine and a bottle of fluid that looks remarkably similar to white spirit to a hungover houseguest in desperate need of something to piss in.
The nights going swimmingly and everyones enjoying themselves. G adds a bit of atmosphere by firing up the smoke machine. After a bit he notices a bit of a funny smell in the air which has only come along since the smoke machine has been turned on. Someone comments that it 'smells a bit like a urinal in here' at which point realisation strikes G and focuses his memory in only the way that discovering that you are currently covering 50 or 60 paying guest with your drunk mates two week old stale urine can do.
And that it how I accidentally gave a golden shower to a an entire room of people."