The worst anecdote of all time

Have you ever been in a situation where you've begun to tell your mates a story and realised halfway through that it's actually a bit crap so either embellished it to avoid looking stupid or aborted it instead? Moreover, have you ever begun to tell a story and realised that it contains evidence of your private, depraived self which may shatter any remaining respect your peers have for you?

I've definitely been in the former category before and have added explosions and sea monsters to make the story a better listen, but before I embark on the tale telling journey, I ensure it's for public hearing and not likely to make me look like some kind of social leper.

Unfortunately for a friend of mine, he wasn't quite as prudent on Saturday night.

A group of us went for a few jars and were swapping stories on various subjects when the inevitable slip towards toilet stories took hold. One friend told an amusing story of a time in Australia when, faced with a lack of toilet roll, he had to use sanitary towels instead. Upon completion, he stood up and found a shelf of 15 toilets rolls which were originally out of his view. A funny tale and amusement ensued.

Obviously deciding his story was of a similar ilk, my other friend embarked upon his story. It went something like this.

- Goes to a town-centre pub.
- Gets a knock at the back door and has to visit the little boy's room.
- Upon completion, begins the necessary clean-up operation.
- Unfortunately runs out of supplies, so
- Retrieves a used piece of toilet roll and completes the job.

You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. We all looked at each other and literally backed off him, such was the disgust at his antics. He seemed rather surprised at our reaction, and tried to justify his actions with the excuse that "it was a clean piece" (obviously begging the question as to why it was in the bowl in the first place). He seemed somewhat put out and inevitably suffered an evening full of abuse along the lines of his momentary lapse of morals as a result. Serves him right, says I.

The thing is, at what point did he run through this story and think "Yeah, it'll be fine. They'll lap it up"? I can't imagine him, trollies round his ankles, retrieving spent bog roll and thinking "I can't wait to tell 'em about this - they'll howl with laughter". His moral and anecdotal compass is clearly somewhat adrift from centre it seems, and from now on, I'll treat any sentences of his which begin "I remember once.." with the necessary caution.