June 10, 2007

Who needs a winning lottery ticket when you have a mind like mine?

Eh?

This morning, without - I hasten to add - any help whatsoever from Rowtheboat, I have realised that within this febrile mind of mine, lies a money-making idea of stunning, and vast, proportions.

Now, you probably have to be a boy to appreciate this: But, bear with me.

You're in bed [like I was this morning]

And you're dying for a piss [like I was this morning]

And Rowthebloodyboat won't, somewhat selfishly, fetch you a bucket.

And then:

Eureka!

"Row, love?" says Zeds, sagely.

"What?"

"Any chance of fetching me a hose, attaching it to, you know, my, um, thing, and placing the other end in the toilet?"

[Look of female incredulity]

"What?" she says.

"You mean you haven't got one?" I ask, equally incredulous.

"Got what?" she says.

"A wee hose," I say.

"And why the fuck would I have one of those?" she wonders.

And therein lies the nugget of my million-pound idea.

Women really don't have a clue, do they?

Your man is lying in, admittedly, their pit, dying for a slash, too hungover and lazy to do anything about it, and what happens next?

YES FOLKS! It's the all-new, multi-purpose Wee Hose.

In a bar?

Can't be arsed moving?

Someone you don't like blocking the way to the toilet?

Simple - just slip your, erm, thing, into your own (sterilised) attachment, affix that to the Wee Hose (copyright me, you bastards) and slash away. At leisure.

So where, I hear the green campaigners say, does the slash go?

Well, the Wee Hose will be snaked through home and indeed licensed premises to a toilet, or sewer, where all our bladder excretions will be washed away.

Yes, it might take time to catch on.

Yes, it does involve our lady friends carefully manoeuvring the Wee Hose so that all wee actually makes it to the bog.

And yes - Row and I are, indeed, quite a bit pissed.

Still, at least the curry is on its way.

* Coming soon - The Poo Tube attachment. You read it here first.