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You have to get your head around it pretty quick to stop the slippery slide into dark places.
A sense of fun can help pull you through. Little things you can do to make yourself smile, a breath stealing belly laugh or an inner grin.
Like the time I was at a social gathering with family and friends.
It was a beautiful, hot summers day, around new years. We were gathered in the shade for a BBQ at a beachside park.
The beers were going down exceedingly well. Of course the only problem with drinking too much beer is that it does go through you fairly quickly.
The public toilets were miles away across grass, so to make things easier I had opted to use my little plastic tube behind the shelter of the car door.
After about my third visit to the car, my collection bag had reached critical mass, it was a great quivering, golden balloon in my carry bag, just waiting for an impact to send it's acrid contents sluicing through my stuff.
Something had to be done.
I didn't want to empty the piss on the ground next to the car, so I decide to cross the road to a pub that is doing a roaring sunday afternoon business, to use the toilets.
I let my people know where I'm going and I'm joined by two friends who want to get more supplies. These two are sisters, wonderful family friends and both gorgeous blondes.
We head across the road and enter the building. The girls go off to the bar and I make my way to the mensroom.
As I near the door, this guy heads in just before me. He only spots me as I push through the door directly after him. He jumps out of the way, giving me a look like I just descended in a beam of light and asked him to take me to his leader.
"Sorry mate, sorry!"
Oh God, he's one of those people who apologise to you even when they have done nothing wrong.
He's clearly freaked out by the chair and has no idea how to react when confronted by someone in one. They are a common breed and are the perfect target for a bloody good wind up.
I'm thinking of how I can mess with this guys head as he enters the cubicle next to the disabled one, which I enter.
Bang, there it is, an epiphany.
When a guy goes into a cubicle it's generally for a sit down visit (
), if you know what I mean. So I know I've got time.I remove the heaving, urinous ticking time bomb from my bag. This thing is full to the max, two litres of yellow beer by product.
I place it over the bowl and open the outlet valve not quite fully, to let the wee out slow and raise it above head height.
The golden stream hits the bowl water bang in the middle and with the added gravity from the height, it's loud, really loud, echoing off the tiled walls like a mountain cataract. I begin to whistle a jaunty tune for extra effect.
After about a minute and a half the bag is not even half empty. I hear a muttered, "Jesus!" from the guy next door.
My ability to whistle is severely hindered by my compulsion to crack up laughing, but I keep my composure as the liquid stream continues it's cacophanous splash down.
Finally, after another thirty seconds, my bag indicates 500 ml left to go.
I'm going to milk this for all it's worth.
I pinch off the valve to stop the stream and wait about five seconds then let rip once more, lifting the bag up and down for maximum auditory effect.
"What?", my neighbour exclaims under his breath.
This is too much. Whistling is now completely impossible so I move into a nonchalant hum.
What must this guy be thinking? How does he piss in the toilet from a chair? He must have impressive reach. How much piss can one man hold?
After more than three minutes of this, the bag finally empties and the noise dies. For my final act I let out a long loud sigh of immense gratification.
I've had some fun and I throw my head back in a mouth wide open, silent howl of mirth.
At the basins I wash my hands and splash water on my grinning visage. As I head for the door, I see in the mirror, the guy exit his cubicle and head for the basins.
Out in the pub, my friends are waiting for me and I can't believe my luck, the icing on the cake. I quickly tell them to give me a kiss on the cheek as soon as the guy comes out of the mens.
They humour me and being the top sorts that they are, smart and intuitive, play the part to the fullest, running their fingers through my hair and draping their arms around my shoulders.
This sends the guys eyebrows somewhere into the upper stratosphere. Now I can laugh, and I let it out like a lunatic, to quizzical looks from the girls as we head back outside into the sun and back to another cold beer.
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