Deep Inside the Chain Pub Piss Dungeon
Ever heard the story about the girl who sleeps with some dude and ends up getting some weird, flesh-eating disease that the doctor tells her can only be contracted through sex with a corpse?
Every once in a while you hear a story of human sexual deviance so extremely left of center that it literally blows your mind. It’s even more disturbing when you’re there, at the source, and can see the corroborating evidence for yourself.
One of my best buds from Southend is the manager of a chain pub in Central London.
A few weeks ago, he was standing behind the bar when a guy came up to him looking rather concerned.
“Listen mate, this is gonna sound totally insane, but I’ve just gone for a piss in the urinal and I could’ve sworn I saw an eyeball looking up from the hole.”
“I’m sorry?” my friend replies.
“Not just an eyeball, but, like, an eyebrow as well. And the eye was looking around.”
So the guy convinces my friend to have a look to put his mind at ease.
They both went to the bathroom to check on the two adjoining rooms. As they go through the first door, they discover that the place is pretty much flooded with urine. My mate comments to the guy that obviously this is not normal.
Things get stranger still when they get to the door to the second back room, which is a fire exit and should be unlocked—it isn’t. My friend gets his keys out to unlock the door, and as he begins to do so, a frantic scuffle begins behind the door. As he attempts to push it open, the handle is ripped out of his hand and a dude comes charging out of the room, soaked head to toe in piss. He pushes both my friend and the customer (who are too shocked to react) out of the way, screaming, “I didn’t do anything!” as he ran away.
By the time they regain their sense of reality, the guy has made his escape, leaving them to assess the scene of abject depravity he’s left in his wake.The plumbing for the urinal had been carefully removed and put to one side, leaving a hole in the masonry big enough for a head and shoulders to squeeze in. Tissue paper had been laid on the exposed brickwork to provide a comfortable head rest for what seemed to be a lengthy session of being pissed on. By men. In secret. In a toilet belonging to pretty much the biggest pub chain in Britain. Oh, and did I mention the snorkel?
The police are called. Forensics scour the scene, but no fingerprints can be found owing to the copious amounts of wee on every single surface.
I was told this story while incredibly stoned. I was utterly incredulous. I was even more incredulous when he showed me pictures of this makeshift piss dungeon on his phone, taken moments after the incident.
He said he was pretty disturbed by the fact that he had seen this utterly normal-looking middle-aged man at his lowest ebb. He had obviously done a recce on the place and put a fair amount of planning into finding, and locking himself into this room. All without arousing the suspicions of staff or punters before it was way too late.
There you go, then. Next time you go for a pee in a urinal, or anywhere for that matter, just remember that someone could be mere feet away bathing in your waste fluids.