Unfortunately, if i ever told my father of why our latest house-cleaner never returned after the first day, he'd probably believe me.

The first left thinking she was in a nut house, it wasn't my fault.  I wasn't to know my dad hired a cleaner and I awoke in a student haze to an unfeasibly tall woman hoovering the carpets.  Feeling uneasy and a bit confused, I thought it best that I grab the polish.

And there we were, me and the ten-foot woman, occasionally eying each other suspiciously as we continued throughout the house.

We never saw her again although I never got to see the second cleaner at all.

Our lodger, a high-ranking prison governor, spent a laughable amount of time tarting himself up in the bathroom (considering he had a face like a scrotum).  Normally this wouldn't be a problem as I usually got up around the crack of noon.  Although, this particular morning, I had this sudden, hangover-waking, urge to take a piss.

You may know the feeling.  A feeling whereby rational thought, self-respect and a consideration for others become much lower priorities.  In fact, they don't really get a look-in.

Shit, he's in the bog again.  Well I'll just patiently wait.  no, me piss now!  It doesn't take me long to rule out the garden - i'd probably end up face to face with the sweet ladies next door whilst warm steam o' piss rises above the hedge between us   (again).

But time is running out and I don't need a plan but a bucket, before my appendix bursts.

I grab an empty milk bottle next to the door and disappear in to the cellar...words cannot describe.  baby.

Um, I've filled the bottle up and i'm not close to being relieved.  fuck.  I clamp my foreskin shut - thank god my parents weren't jewish - and I ascend the stairs for another pint.

I'm naked and holding my penis whilst the end has ballooned to the size of a small watermelon - if I get caught in this position then..well, I don't even want to continue this train of thought.

Back in the cellar, on my knees, thinking about how the ingredient for the remarkable boddingtons head truly does work, I'm eventually relieved that a subsequent bottle isn't necessary.

Avoiding further risks, I leave them until after college where, in one of life's rare episodes, I had a 'moment'.  But, the two pints of piss were gone.

The cleaner never returned after the first day and Dad never said anything.  He just looked at me, and outside somewhere a dog began to howl..