A friend of mine, let us call him ‘N’, had been partying rather hard with the old Columbian marching powder. Come kicking out time at the pub, N planned to attend a party at his new girlfriend’s dad’s flat. Off he set, bristling with confidence, ready to take on the world of fatherly party-goers. Unfortunately, his journey there was punctuated by the sudden arrival of Meatloaf’s daughter, who swiftly left the chutney chute, and landed in his kecks. Thus N arrived at the party with a pant-ful of crap. He made his way to the bathroom, and decided the best strategy was to take off his trousers and sit in the sink. But N failed to lock the door. Who should walk in and catch him sitting in the sink, but his new girlfriend’s dad. New girlfriend dumped him shortly after.
