I went for a meeting yesterday at a major motor manufacturer.

First time, trying to score a new contract, best party frock and top behaviour, you know the drill.

Upon arrival I needed a pee, so upon meeting my contact for the first time and being ushered into a meeting room, I pointed to the toilet door nearby and said, "I'll just pop in there first."

So I popped in there, all single-minded and focussed, and it struck me a strange that there was a Tampax vending machine on the wall and no urinals. Undeterred I entered a cubicle and did my business. Standing there, old chap in hand, the realisation dawned on me that I had entered the ladies in error.

By now I was, of course, committed, so bravely continued to piss, praying to all the Gods that a woman wouldn't enter and catch me. In this regard my blushes were spared.

As I exited my man, who was waiting for me, raised a quizzical eyebrow and enquired whether I always used the ladies, or whether I preferred to mix it up a bit. :-(

Walked out with the contract, mind.

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Originally Posted by Sir C

First time, trying to score a new contract, best party frock and top behaviour, you know the drill.

Upon arrival I needed a pee, so upon meeting my contact for the first time and being ushered into a meeting room, I pointed to the toilet door nearby and said, "I'll just pop in there first."

So I popped in there, all single-minded and focussed, and it struck me a strange that there was a Tampax vending machine on the wall and no urinals. Undeterred I entered a cubicle and did my business. Standing there, old chap in hand, the realisation dawned on me that I had entered the ladies in error.

By now I was, of course, committed, so bravely continued to piss, praying to all the Gods that a woman wouldn't enter and catch me. In this regard my blushes were spared.

As I exited my man, who was waiting for me, raised a quizzical eyebrow and enquired whether I always used the ladies, or whether I preferred to mix it up a bit. :-(

Walked out with the contract, mind.

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:hehe: Do it every time now it's a good luck

I may have strolled into the ladies in a foreign country before as I got confused by the signs.

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Originally Posted by Sir C

First time, trying to score a new contract, best party frock and top behaviour, you know the drill.

Upon arrival I needed a pee, so upon meeting my contact for the first time and being ushered into a meeting room, I pointed to the toilet door nearby and said, "I'll just pop in there first."

So I popped in there, all single-minded and focussed, and it struck me a strange that there was a Tampax vending machine on the wall and no urinals. Undeterred I entered a cubicle and did my business. Standing there, old chap in hand, the realisation dawned on me that I had entered the ladies in error.

By now I was, of course, committed, so bravely continued to piss, praying to all the Gods that a woman wouldn't enter and catch me. In this regard my blushes were spared.

As I exited my man, who was waiting for me, raised a quizzical eyebrow and enquired whether I always used the ladies, or whether I preferred to mix it up a bit. :-(

Walked out with the contract, mind.

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:hehe: One of those situations whereby, if you front it out sufficiently well, you can actually come out with more credit than if you'd gone into the gents in the first place. Well done on the contract. :-)

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Originally Posted by Burney

:hehe: One of those situations whereby, if you front it out sufficiently well, you can actually come out with more credit than if you'd gone into the gents in the first place. Well done on the contract. :-)

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Thank you. I won't be retiring early from it, but it's nice to pick up something new from time to time from a morale perspective, if nothing else.

I wended my way home by my favoured route when relaxing after a meeting in the midlands; Milton Keynes, Bedford, Letchworth, Royston, Bishops Stortford, M11. A nice, gentle, cosy little route along which to meander and allow one's thoughts to coalesce. Every time I do so I marvel at the loveliness of the village of Cottered, which seems to me to be somewhere with which you might be familiar. Bit north of you, I suppose. But remarkably pretty.

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Originally Posted by Pat Vegas

:hehe: Do it every time now it's a good luck

I may have strolled into the ladies in a foreign country before as I got confused by the signs.

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I shall campaign for non-gender-specific toilets because transers.

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Originally Posted by Sir C

Thank you. I won't be retiring early from it, but it's nice to pick up something new from time to time from a morale perspective, if nothing else.

I wended my way home by my favoured route when relaxing after a meeting in the midlands; Milton Keynes, Bedford, Letchworth, Royston, Bishops Stortford, M11. A nice, gentle, cosy little route along which to meander and allow one's thoughts to coalesce. Every time I do so I marvel at the loveliness of the village of Cottered, which seems to me to be somewhere with which you might be familiar. Bit north of you, I suppose. But remarkably pretty.

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Yes, Cottered is lovely, but I'm never quite sure how to pronounce it. Bizarrely, as you drive through, you see a blue plaque for Sun Yat-sen of all people.
There are some lovely bits out this way, which makes it all the more mystifying that places like Watford and Cheshunt were allowed to happen in the same county.

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Originally Posted by Burney

Yes, Cottered is lovely, but I'm never quite sure how to pronounce it. Bizarrely, as you drive through, you see a blue plaque for Sun Yat-sen of all people.
There are some lovely bits out this way, which makes it all the more mystifying that places like Watford and Cheshunt were allowed to happen in the same county.

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I noticed that plaque for the first time yesterday, whilst debating with myself over the pronunciation of Cottered, at the same time listening to the story of Sun Yaoting, China's last eunuch. There's coincidence upon synchronicity, if you will.

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Originally Posted by Pat Vegas

:hehe: Do it every time now it's a good luck

I may have strolled into the ladies in a foreign country before as I got confused by the signs.

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I knew a chap who kept getting confused by the word 'Herren' in Germany because he assumed it meant 'Hers'. :-(

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Originally Posted by Burney

I knew a chap who kept getting confused by the word 'Herren' in Germany because he assumed it meant 'Hers'. :-(

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Fúcking hell. Was he educationally subnormal?

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Originally Posted by Sir C

I noticed that plaque for the first time yesterday, whilst debating with myself over the pronunciation of Cottered, at the same time listening to the story of Sun Yaoting, China's last eunuch. There's coincidence upon synchronicity, if you will.

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How very odd. I assume it's 'Cotter-id' ,but daren't say it out loud for fear of being mocked.

So what did old Sun Yaoting get up to? I'm guessing as stories go, it's a bit short on graphic sex scenes?

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Originally Posted by Sir C

Fúcking hell. Was he educationally subnormal?

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Pretty much, yes. One of the stupidest men I've ever worked with. Kept trying to get me to go to brothels with him. :-(

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Originally Posted by Burney

How very odd. I assume it's 'Cotter-id' ,but daren't say it out loud for fear of being mocked.

So what did old Sun Yaoting get up to? I'm guessing as stories go, it's a bit short on graphic sex scenes?

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It was a short chapter in a sweet little book called 'Fascinating Footnotes From History'. It described how, at the age of 9 years old, the daft bástard decided that he wished to serve the emperor in the capacity of a eunuch, so asked his father to do the business which, oddly, he did, with a razor. It was rather painful, apparently. So off he went to court, and about 10 minutes later the emperor abdicated, leaving him a bit in the lurch :hehe:

The sad bit was that the communists later threw away the jar containing his pickled 'nads, so he could not be buried whole, which upset him tremendously.

It seemed to me that the stupid ***** got exactly what he deserved.

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Originally Posted by Burney

Pretty much, yes. One of the stupidest men I've ever worked with. Kept trying to get me to go to brothels with him. :-(

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You'd be wise not to visit a German brothel with him, lest a large male Kraut fúcks you in the bottom due to your chum's language difficulties.

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Originally Posted by Burney

I knew a chap who kept getting confused by the word 'Herren' in Germany because he assumed it meant 'Hers'. :-(

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:hehe: I don't have this problem in Italy. They are very much ahead of the game.

The one marked uomo is clearly for pooves. So I stay clear of that one.

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Originally Posted by Sir C

It was a short chapter in a sweet little book called 'Fascinating Footnotes From History'. It described how, at the age of 9 years old, the daft bástard decided that he wished to serve the emperor in the capacity of a eunuch, so asked his father to do the business which, oddly, he did, with a razor. It was rather painful, apparently. So off he went to court, and about 10 minutes later the emperor abdicated, leaving him a bit in the lurch :hehe:

The sad bit was that the communists later threw away the jar containing his pickled 'nads, so he could not be buried whole, which upset him tremendously.

It seemed to me that the stupid ***** got exactly what he deserved.

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Oddly enough, I was tweeting about self-castration to Tom Holland just yesterday. Yet more synchronicity.

I was talking about a cult in antiquity who used to slash their bits off and then run through the streets trying to find an open window into which to throw their severed parts, which would then oblige the householders to take them in and nurse them back to something approaching health. Of course, the locals were wise to this and would block doors and windows to their houses accordingly, meaning quite a lot of these loonies ended up bleeding to death in the street.