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When you've a too much coffee during or a pint or two after work, driving over the M62 Leeds to Manchester you decide you can hold it, and skip Hartshead Moor Services.
At the farmhouse you're thinking 'can I make it to Birch'? and in you dithering you miss the Saddleworth Moor turn off - the last chance for a sly roadside piss, it's Birch or nothing.
The pain is excruciating, no where to turn off now - too built up. Roadworks! 50mph - forget that, trying to suck it back in now, no laughing, no sudden movements.....
At last, Birch, stop near the entrance, damn - no spaces, end up miles away and even nearer to wetting yourself.
Find one, out of the car, waking gingerly you know what's coming as you enter the sanctity of the Gents, cubicle not urinal to savour the experience, zip down, hose out, release and aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......
Better than sex. Well better than any sex I ever head.....
I find the smell from the "toilet mints" heightens the experience.
Do the washing, stick the powder in the washer-thing, come back here for more banter, pick your nose and do a sniff at the same time - nose full of Daz, very, very nice...
that first cold beer, the one that washes the dry mouth feeling away and signals the end of having to to anything which involves effort for the rest of the day.
Last edited by Spacecadet; 13 February 2011, 22:29.
Reason: typinng is al ofer the palce this weeeknd
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