Oh do stop it chaps. You're making me want to pee. Past a certain age the power of suggestion cuts in and out. By the time you reach the bog you don't want to any more. Then you have to chant a mantra or cast your mind back to something or other. I find the roar of an arsenal football crowd 400 yards away, directed skyward by the trumpet-shaped stadium and sounding from the bog in my Highbury gaff like an enormous, really enormous sigh, a useful memory. Odd but true.
Last edited by: VxFan on Wed 5 Nov 14 at 19:02
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