Pants!

I swam up and down the swimming lane, a regular form of exercise that I take every week with the added bonus that its always 'all you can drink' day when out of the corner of my eye I noticed another swimmer make his way to the pool. This day in particular had been rather odd for instead of being busy it was decidedly quiet, spookily so as myself and Jayne were the only ones in the pool so the addition of another body so to speak was a bit of added interest.

Only it wasn't.

Normally when somebody approaches the pool they make their way down the steps or sit on the side and slide in. Our new addition was indeed making his way down the steps but acting as if he was stepping into sulphuric acid making each step seemingly torture but here's the thing, with each step he glared at me as if remembering something horrible from his past in which I played a part. By the time he had reached the bottom step he looked at me as one would a person who had taken a dump on his doorstep then proceeded to shove it through his letterbox.

He slowly walked to the center of the pool swapping glares between myself and Jayne, he had an odd face, a sort of can't look at it for long kind of face without recalling a disturbing dream, not wanting to sound uncharitable it had the look of someone with unhealthy carnal appetites involving livestock.

Now you may think I'm exaggerating and it was a perfectly normal person with a few facial problems and an aversion to swimming pools and that I am needlessly pointing them out to fill a blog entry. It is not so.

As we swam up and down he started to walk up and down pacing us but still fixing us with his glare, it was all getting rather unnerving. As we turned at the edge and went back down the pool he would turn and walk backwards watching either of us that was the closest. We both stopped at one end for a quick chat.

'What's wrong with him?' Said Jayne

'Dunno, he's been watching us all while he's been in here, not seen him before.'

As we chatted he turned away, he was now in the center of the pool with his back to us completely motionless. No, not completely motionless, both his hands were in front of him underwater and slightly trembling.

'What's he doing now?'

As we watched his movements got a little more vigorous and he glanced over his shoulder and leered.

'I'm going to be sick' I said to Jayne, 'He's rubbing something, I'm getting out'

And so we did, it was only then we could see the full picture from the pool side of a man with both hands down the front of his trunks exposing half a bottom crack having what I can only describe as 'a moment to himself'. Now I don't wish to cast aspersions on just what he was doing but from our point of view it looked decidedly uncouth, he certainly wasn't cleaning his spectacles I can tell you.

Anyway, episodes like this seem a common occurance at the moment, in Leeds we passed a session of Tramping, young girls in full makeup posing with unconscious down and outs to post on Instagram whilst in another undisclosed location I stood next to a guy who urinated on several blokes shoes. What is the world coming too?

That aside one thing that constantly amuses me is men's inability to use the simple spin dryer in changing rooms, you know the type, the ones where you pop your trunks in press down the lid and five seconds later, hey presto, they are dry and ready to pop in your bag. If it's that simple why, oh, why do I have to wait for two minutes whilst some muscular hulk dries his budgie smugglers? I'm not kidding, they stand there for like ages trying to get every last droplet out in a machine that does its job within the first ten seconds which is why I like to see the second thing occur, the ripper.

It's a classic, you watch them approach the dryer, a cursory glance at the instructions confirms that they are indeed a man and don't need to read them so they slop their trunks into the machine and close the lid. Only they didn't stuff it in quite far enough so then I get my favourite bit, as the lid shuts and it jumps from 0-625253 rpm in seconds it emits a snaggled growl, a metallic bang and effectively turns their trunks into confetti. Priceless to watch as they scoop out the remains to the tune of 'what the hell?' and I never tire of watching it.

So a bit of a rambling unconclusive blog that dallies along the mysteries of mankind, a bit like life really in a rambling unconclusive kind of way.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals