Most pubs in this part of the world have only one toilet, two at a push. When the pub gets busy, this usually involves a queue of mainly women waiting their turn.
On this occasion, there was a queue of largely and almost exclusively Australian men.
The object of last weeks crush (who works behind the bar), asked me for a favour. Could I please wait in line with the most enormous industrial size toilet roll ever, and replace the empty one.
He hands me the key with a smile and skips* off back to the bar. This is not a bar were you can queue inside the toilet confines I might add, but in the main busy Friday night bar, in full view of well....everyone.
Comments such as 'When a girl's gotta go, a girl's gotta go', 'That's a really attractive look babe' and 'No need to ask for which number you need to go for' fly around while I try and hold onto the increasingly heavy giant toilet roll. I growl inwardly.
I enter the toilet, carry out the favour amongst other (#1) things and leave. The lads are all still laughing and one tops it all with 'Stand back lads, I'd give this one a few minutes if I were you'.
Bloody wanker Ralph.
I hand back the key with a raised eyebrow, he laughs and apologises in a not nearly sincere enough manner. I think it makes me like him more - the bastard.
Anyway, it makes for a great anecdote later in the evening when I am sitting talking to one of his friends.
A very hot Aussie lad.
*I could never fancy a man who skips so this is purely for effect.
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