So, we got off the train on Sunday evening and I was bursting for a wee. I won’t use the toilets on the train. Not since the time the electric door opened when Imelda was doing her business on the way back from Galway in 2017. I don’t know who was more flushed, her, the fella on the queue outside or the toilet itself.

Anyway, Sunday, I headed for the ladies toilets to find a queue longer than the one for Oasis tickets. I tried the disabled ones but there was a woman in a wheelchair outside so I didn’t hang about. No way I was using the gents, the smell nearly knocked me out…

Ten minutes I waited on the queue for the ladies, with my legs crossed praying I’d make it.

Then, a cubicle door opened at the end of the room and I practically ran. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another woman running too. No way, José I says as I, my need is greater than yours. I sped up, and she sped up too. The faster I walked, the faster she walked. As I turned to give her a piece of my mind for queue jumping, I looked at myself in the mirror which ran the length of the room.

I laughed so much, I don’t know how I didn’t piss myself right there.

When I finally went in and relieved myself, I went out to join himself, still laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’ says he

‘I nearly had a row with myself in there’ says I

‘It was bound to happen’ says he. ‘I’m just surprised it took this long’.

Cheeky fecker