Me that is.
You may remember that a couple of months ago I told you of what I hear in my head depending on whether or not the skilfully flicked cigarette end I have aimed at the gutter drain goes in or not? (Han Solo saying “great shot kid, that was one in a million” if it goes in or Luke saying“It’s no good! It impacted on the surface” if it does not.)

But here is something else I should probably not share but will.
Whenever I go into one of the toilet cubicles here at Weird inc, I am always a little concerned to find the lid down. Not just the seat, but the lid as well. Now as ladies are always telling us chaps, we NEVER put the seat down. C’mon ladies – it ain’t made of lead, do you want us to piss all over it or move it your bloody selves eh! But anyway, seeing the lid down worries me because I have a quick mental vision of what I fear I may find when I lift it up.
And no, believe it or not, I am not worried about finding a brace of “Brown Octobers” snuggled in a nest of soggy toilet paper – that would be par for the course.
No, I always have a quick mental image of a totally clean bowl, with a severed head stuck in it.

I know, mad as a goose on stilts.
