Oscar, The Evil Sulphura and I have gone to see the new Bond film, Casino Royale. The first ten minutes takes place in a men’s bathroom, in which a fight involving broken urinals and wildly spraying plumbing leads neatly into Bond’s iconic flip-around-and-shoot-the-cameraman move.
It is exciting and violent and it awakens an urge deep in my bladder.
“I tell you vot: you know dat — vot he called — de liddle vun?”
“Did you take your pill this morning?”
“Shadap, I break you head. No, de liddle vun — Danny DeVito. You know him?”
“I put it on the counter with your tea.”
I’m afraid this is going to be an unpleasant story, for it begins with the following words: I am sprinting desperately up Lygon Street at three minutes to five shaking a jar of my own urine.
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