I don't hold the view that we are surrounded by examples of terrible behaviour. Every so often, however, we see something that stops us in our tracks.
On the way home this evening I cut through a small modern shopping precinct in Islington. Approaching me among the shoppers and schoolchildren on their way home was a small, shabbily-dressed individual.
He was about forty.
In his hand he was holding his penis.
He was urinating as he walked.
Chaps, that's not easy, is it?
If they're doing that in Islington, can you imagine what they're doing south of the river?
ReplyDeleteOf course AC in everywere from Richmond to Blackheath to Dulwich, Carshalton to Battersea South London is such a uniformly terrible place that public urination is the least of our problems! what a strange thing to say!
ReplyDeleteI tempted to say it's a piece of piss.
ReplyDeletePardon the pun but that would really piss me off. Strangely, I saw someone wee-ing in full view at my local bus stop yesterday. Maybe the onset of Spring is doing odd things to people?
ReplyDeleteI have lived in South London since 1984, bltp. My hilarious joke was aimed at those who mistakenly believe North London to be somehow more sophisticated than South London. I have obviously lost my mojo.
ReplyDeleteIt's a rare feat I have only seen once before, years ago in Brisbane, by a gentleman celebrating new year's eve by taking a piss while walking down the median strip of the Bradfield Highway.
ReplyDeleteAs a labrador collie cross, I find it a piece of, er, well quite easy.
ReplyDeleteEasy? No.
ReplyDeleteSexy? Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.
Public urination - more of it please!
ac:
ReplyDeleteI see, I may have been a bit quick off the mark, I just get feed up of all of south London being used as comedy punch line.
But surely if he was peeing and walking at the same time, he'd be stepping into the path of his own, er, emission? Granted, he doesn't necessarily sound like the sort of person who'd care that much about it, but moonwalking might have slightly more showy and rather less soggy.
ReplyDeleteJ
I once took a fancy for a young gentleman, but it soon faded after he told me that he enjoyed watching his ex-girlfriend repeat your story after the pub one night.
ReplyDeleteI was sitting in the back garden today reading the paper as the kids played. The sun was shining and it was a little bit fresh.
ReplyDeleteAfterwards I went to my den upstairs and listened to the Saturday Play on the BBCiPlayer.
When the play ended I thought to myself 'Imagine being able to do that every day'.
then I read you blog post and thought 'Imagine......'
Walking backwards seems to work best.
ReplyDeleteI hope you don't mind me shunting my way in here. I find by staying at home all the time, one is less exposed to such annoyances.
ReplyDelete"Excuse me, but your son's name is written in the snow in my front garden"
ReplyDelete"Kids, eh? What's the problem?"
"It's in my daughter's handwriting..."
Ithangyew.
Skirky
I once saw a punk walking along beside the River Ouse in York, near the King's Head pub if you're at all interested. As he walked past a wall-mounted bin he threw up into the bin WITHOUT BREAKING STRIDE. I was mightily impressed I can tell you. Disgusted, but impressed nevertheless.
ReplyDeleteDavid, Liverpool
Was it a continuous, unbroken stream, Mr H? If so, then that is allegedly quite some achievement, post-40. Good on the man.
ReplyDeleteI went to London from the Midlands last night, got back home around 1in a tired and emotional state. Slept like a top on the train home, complete with dreams of retracing my evening out surrounded by men pissing in the street. Thanks for that.
ReplyDeleteIt reminds me of the story Frankie Boyle tells. He was walking home one night through the streets of Glasgow when he saw a man leaning against a front door having a piss. When he'd finished he tucked
ReplyDeletehimself away and then got out a key from his pocket and let himself in.
Just how pissed would you have to be that you couldn't wait to get inside??
It's the need vs the situation. At college I knew someone who constructed a funnel/hose affair that he fumblingly attached to himself most nights after his lengthy sessions in the pub. The hose led to a bucket by the bed, and he went to sleep with the funnel strapped to his nethers. Need: to have a slash when he needed, whenever that may be during the night. Situation: In bed and he wanted to stay there.
ReplyDeleteThere used to be an old mohican-punk in Pigeon Park, Birmingham, who had a polythene bag tied around his neck so that he could vomit whenever he liked.
ReplyDeleteMy Dad tells the story of standing on packed terraces in the 60s/70s (at international rugby games, class warriers!) and it was general practice to roll up a broadsheet newspaper and stuff it down your trouser leg and out below boot level to relieve yourself and retain your position in the stands.
ReplyDelete