That feeling when you go to bed and find your jazz mag there on your bed.
No words spoken, no story about how it got there (you don’t want to think about the chain of events that led to it ending up there).
The realisation that you’d left it in the toilet and forgotten to rehide it.
You’d think once would be enough for you to never do it again, but it isn’t, and each time it happens you die a little inside.
Ah memories.
Was it you who had the story about the chinese restaurant ‘experience’? Very hazy memory from old DiS.
It was indeed
Just found it with some astute googling 
Wedged in the Secrets of Youth classic thread
its not even 10 in the morning!
Oh God. Ended up finding that thread and dissolved into a laughing fit for about ten minutes. The reactions are better than the initial post.
i used to live next door to a well known celebrity, who has a fairly distinctive voice. i was told about him living next door pretty much the day i moved in, but he was’t around for a while - probably away with work or whatever
the first time i had proof that he did actually live next door was suddenly hearing his voice, loud and clear outside the front of the house one morning, while i was in bed in the middle of a… y’know
Imagine reaching your vinegar strokes just as Brian Blessed starts talking to the postman outside your window.
Just had a wank
Thread bookmarked.
Careful the pages don’t stick together.
ROSCOE: Marlon you’ve been in that bathroom for quite a while now
MARLON: I’ll be out in a minute I promise
ROSCOE: You said that seventeen years ago
MARLON: Just don’t come in
ROSCOE: I’m sorry I have to. I really need to brush my teeth. Seventeen years of not doing so has played merry hell on my dental hygiene. Cultures have formed on my teeth and gums to such an extent that individual cultures are in conflict with one another over issues of ideology and belief systems
MARLON: nooooo
ROSCOE kicks the door down and upon spying MARLON’s actions in the bathroom, he has to admit to himself that this is quite a staggering sight indeed
ROSCOE: What the blazes-?
MARLON: I’m sorry Roscoe, you have seen my secret shame
ROSCOE: What are all these magazines? Why are the pages all stuck together
MARLON: Oh Roscoe, you’ve rumbled my plotted indulgences! Yes, as all the lovely readers at home will surely have ascertained, I have set up an independent printing enterprise in this, our bathroom! I am publishing magazines all about my favourite Hungarian modernist architect Roland A. Wank! And you see that in my panic to get this shipment of top quality Wank mags to the suppliers by tomorrow that I’ve had an accident with the binding process and the pages have fused!
ROSCOE: I don’t know what to say
MARLON: I understand fully if you wish to turn me into the appropriate authorities for running an underground press away from the eyes of our King George III
ROSCOE: Marlon you don’t understand. It is not illegal to do this, and George III has not been our monarch since 1820
MARLON: So much has changed over the course of these seventeen years
Anyone tried this? Asking for a friend