AC/DC Meeting in a Public Convenience on Hampstead Heath

I have no wish to steal the thunder of a former Director of Communications in Downing Street but let me relate the following tale which includes art, sex, drugs and past employees of the state about to publish their memoirs!

I have for some time been visiting a place on the heath in Hampstead and experiencing a considerable amount of pleasure!In passing, I refer to her as my fancy woman but in truth I do not know her name. I have confessed this attachment to Lady BP and a number of others.

Absolution has been given.

Whenever I am in the Great Wen and I have the time I visit Hampstead Heath and gaze on the face of my beloved! The girl with a guitar.

(By the way the picture behind the girl is a copy of a contemporary landscape!)

Once, on a Thursday, I was locked in contemplation of the sublime composition of feminine beauty, light and the eternal when the drugs kicked in. It is annoying that some of the drugs which, demonstrably, keep me alive also require me to pee more than normal in the morning. The said day was one such.

With fear and trepidation I approached the toilets at Kenwood House. Being a poor lad from the provinces I was not convince I would emerge from such a site of cottage industry with my virtue intact or even my trousers!

On inspection it was clear, empty and available. Relieved, partially, I swiftly went about my business. At the point which I am informed is described as mid stream, there was an explosion. The door to the facility flew open and a with a roar and a spraying of uncertain bodily fluids a man in tee shirt and shorts (!) burst into the toilets. This is it, I thought, bummer. Should I enunciate the feeble words…

“Sir.I do not share your sexual preference but I will die for your right to exercise it!”

and prepare to die.

To my relief the figure crashed into the nearest cubicle wrenched a handful of toilet tissue from the wall and wiped a cascade of snot from his nose.

He looked round the facilities saw and discounted my somewhat tense backed figure at the stall and cleared his throat and nose of fluids and went on his merry way. I suspect, though I have no evidence for such, that this was the Thursday morning run intended to keep the former Director of Communications in Downing Street from thinking about the cabinet meeting and all the fun things that he could be getting up to and of course the bottle!