Testosterolympics (anyone disgusted by bodily emissions - passing Victorians etc - should just skip to the next item)
As the Winter break gets closer and closer, my excitement is building up like anything.
Though my excitement's obviously not building up to levels nearly as dangerous as those of the students in the University Library where I'm working...
I've noticed some shocking residues in the gents toilets.
Whilst sitting there today, dropping the kids off at the pool, laying a cable, etc, I was boredly studying my surroundings.
A few feet from the top of the cubicle door, someone had scrawled some grafiti, embellished with a spot of tippex for effect. I strained to read it (urr, strained my eyes - not, urm, my bowels. heh! hmm. sorry.)
It read "Now that's magic", an obvious but oblique reference to no-hair TV Magic Yorkshireman and Wizbit-creator, Paul Daniels. That's strange, I thought. Strange but strangely amusing.
I then noticed that there was a faint arrow drawn pointing from the writing to a seemingly blank bit of the door.
Seemingly blank. Because, as I looked closer, I noticed the faint dried snail-trail of what I could only imagine to be "gentleman's DNA" streaking down from the tip of the arrow.
It could've been worse. It didn't elicit revulsion in me as it might in a lot of people - I've got a strong aversion to the disgust reflex. I just thought - "Oh; its not as bad as a dirty-protest", and my overactive imagination started working on what that'd look like instead. Nice.
And then I realised, looking around, that, all around me, the walls were daubed with endless tell-tale DNA fingerprints. I was in the temple of man goo, but I was worshipping the wrong god. Thankfully no fresh offerings were apparent.
This, my friends, is the down-side of working in a building which is the focus of boredom for testosterone-drenched students. Not nice.
But still, it was mightily impressive - the "magic" shot's splashdown must've been a good 6 foot in height. (Cue some downmarket comment about Paul Daniels being in the cubicle with the Lovely Debbie McGee which would frankly be beyond this blogs pristine standards of taste and decency. CUT!)