The title says it all. Why is it that whenever you get the urge to have a pee that Fate makes sure that you get hit with maximum embarrassment? There’s no way of avoiding it, just accept that no matter how discreet you try to be – sure as Hell is filled with little men with clipboards and annoying Health & Safety bastards; you will be exposed just at your moment of greatest awkwardness!

I was reminded of this as a friend and I left a local supermarket car park and there was a mum trying to let her child have a discreet wee beside the car. He had clearly waited until the last minute before he mentioned his need and so she frantically tried to let him have a pee before he burst his bladder or peed on his new trousers!

Naturally a steady stream of shoppers then proceeded to stroll by – some commenting loudly about standards etc. It was clear that the mother was uncomfortable with the situation she was faced with, but had opted for a dry kid rather than keeping other people happy!

My friend and I were laughing about the whole thing and I said that it was yet another of Nature’s ways of poking fun at us mere mortals. It also reminded me of how when we were driving down a deserted country lane I had found myself in a similar situation. Da Boss asked me if I was lost and I merely told her that we were sight seeing.

‘Well I think I have seen enough hedgerows and muddy roads now. Where exactly is this pub you said we were going to visit?’

OH, not far!’ I replied airily, and then Fate decided to conspire with Da Boss.

‘I think I’ll just pull over and have a quick comfort break.’

‘Well why not wait till we get to the pub – especially if it’s not far?’

I ignored the barbed comment and headed for a convenient tree. Well it should have been convenient but I hadn’t made allowances for the foot thick mud as a result of all the rain and snow we had been experiencing. I eventually made it to the tree and got ready to relieve the mounting pressure on my bladder when along came not one car but an entire bloody convoy of vehicles!

And sure enough there was a tractor involved, which meant that they trundled by agonisingly slowly as I stood there steadfastly ignoring the looks that I was getting. Well actually the looks I was feeling rather than actually seeing. I kept my back firmly towards the line of traffic as it slowly passed by.

Business finished I returned to the car and clambered in. There was a frosty silence, one that was even cooler than normal and it was clear that Da Boss was not best pleased with me.

‘I made sure that I had my back turned to the oncoming traffic’ I blurted out in self defence.

‘I’m sure you did. But did you even bother to look the other way?’

‘Well No, Why?’

‘Look for yourself!’

‘Oh Bollocks!’

There – just round the corner from the car – and in plain sight of the tree where I had happily been relieving myself, was a collection of cars and vans and men standing around some kind of small drainage or construction site.

‘Yes dear,’ continued Da Boss. ‘And there was an awful lot of pointing and laughing, before you ask me any more questions. I suggest you turn round and head back the other way! I for one am not looking forward to their comments if we drive by there!’

I said nothing and opted for the swift turn round and opposite direction as the best get away route.

My friend laughed at my discomfort and then told me about his best experience of Fate and her evil attempts at humour.

‘We were in Germany when Alan told us that something he had eaten for breakfast was trying to make an escape and could we please pull in at a roadside stop. Now the Germans are much more organised than the rest of the world and so have public lavatories (or public conveniences as we call them) placed well, conveniently, along lots of rural routes.

Not much further along they spotted one of these little brick outhouses and so pulled in to the small car parking area and Alan rushed off to the gents – or Herren as it is known in German! He was back in seconds.

‘It’s closed. It’s out of order and there are locks on the door! What am I going to do?’

The whole place was deserted and so he was told to do the sensible thing and use the Ladies toilet (Damen – for you language fans) and he set off with a look of desperation and determination on his face.

No sooner had the door slammed shut behind him than what should come along but a tour bus filled to the brim with stout German members of the townswomen’s guild or some such organisation. Naturally they all piled out and made a bee line for the toilets and within seconds there was a line of women standing outside with looks of varying sternness and discomfort. By now the others in the car were in hysterics. Alan was the most polite and law-abiding person you could ever hope to meet and the sheer panic he must be experiencing was just too much for his friends.

Eventually the door to the toilet opened and out scuttled Alan, in a state of complete desperation and despair. He skidded past this long line of women, who all gave him looks that would have killed a man at twenty paces. He made straight for the car, staring straight ahead so as not to catch sight of the women’s hostile looks.


‘Just drive. Go anywhere – just get us out of here NOW.’

They shot off with tyres squealing.

‘Why the hurry Alan?’ asked my friend with a look of innocence on his face, that would have been ideal for anyone needing a cherub model for a renaissance painting.

‘Why? WHY? You bastards know why. Not only have I broken every rule known to German womankind. I have left them with the mother lode of a dump and that toilet wasn’t flushing anything away either!’

I think that tops my stories of inconvenience – Unless you have a better one of course!