I was on my way home from the shops today; I wasn’t out for anything in particular, I only went for a little wander. Anyway, on my way back, with my arms clad in shopping bags full of rubbish I didn’t really need, I came across a man pissing on the wall outside my house. Naturally, I was outraged. So I walk up to this fool, and I’m like, “Carry on, mate. It’s not like this is my house, or anything.”
He turns around to look at me in alarm, and I had to flee back a few steps, because his piss flew in a wild arc, and I didn’t want it to touch me. (I swear I would’ve bathed in bleach if it had.) “Go away, girly. I ain’t in the mood.”
By this point, you can probably understand what I wanted to do to him. He spoke so casually, as if this wasn’t MY house he was pissing on, I mean did his Dad own the place? No. I think not. “Go on, then. Take a flipping dump while you’re at it. If you’re gonna desecrate my house, why not do it properly?”
Clearly he had never heard a word as long as ‘desecrate’ in his life, and looked at me as though I had sprouted horns right before his unsteady eyes. I’d like to remind you lovely people that I’m a slim, weakling of a girl, and this guy easily had about 200lbs on me, nevertheless, I stood there, hands on my hips like a pissed off housewife. After his finished pissing (yes, he had the audacity to finish) he wipes his hands on his thighs, pulls up his zipper, and stares at me like I had done him a great personal wrong. “I’m flipping going now. Happy, are ya?”
“No. Not particularly. Your piss stinks.”
Sure it was going to dry, sure rain occurred very frequently in London and would wash it away, sure nobody had to know, but did that mean that people could go around urinating on other people’s property and have the audacity to sulk when reprimanded. Lovelies, this is the kind of world we live in today. In the middle ages, Londoners would fling buckets of shit, piss and puke out of their windows, and let it gush down into the streets, and on to the poor passersby who just happened to be strolling across. This eventually led to a little something you might know as Black Death. Very soon, we realised the error of our ways and stopped spraying our bodily fluids on others. Lo and behold, disease and death rates fell drastically. So when I come across idiots like the man pissing on my house, I knew exactly who to blame for shit like the impending zombie apocalypse, or any new foreign disease that makes its way into London.
If these words mean anything to you, please do not become the vagabond who pisses on other peoples houses.