Great Moments in Curry: The Rorschach Blot

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Jun 14th, 2006
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We were at the end of a long day in Covent Garden, London, and were drowning our sorrows in 10 or 11 pints of The Porterhouse’s finest Oyster Stout, when we felt “the need for curry”.

Like a rowboat being pulled to sea by the rapidly ebbing tide on Dublin bay, we found ourselves helpless to resist a small curry joint just round the bend from the Porterhouse.

We ordered up everything on the menu … downed the massive quantities of India-inspired sustenance in a feeding frenzy … and then I excused myself, and headed down the steep steps to the loo.

As I was washing my face, pre-relief, I decided to give into the massive pressure that had been building in my bowels and attempted to pass wind. Well, holy Moses, was that a mistake!

I don’t know whether it the oyster stout or the curry, but a tidal wave of the hot stuffins filled my previously white shorts. I swiftly headed for the, thankfully full-door, lockable head, where I stripped off the offensive garments and hid them under the throne. After about half a roll of TP and 10 minutes, I managed to make myself presentable enough to exit, only to find out my jeans had been breached by a brown Rorschach blot. So I wrapped my raincoat ’round my waist and casually strolled back upstairs for a hasty escape. I’ll always wonder who the next poor soul was to enter the loo…


  • Puton Patel

    Bl@*dy h*ll! So it was you! You made me very unhappy!

    My name is Puton Patel, trainee curry waiter. I clean the toilets at that restaurant … and I hate you! … too right your garments were “offensive” … I had to pick them up …. but I get my own back every day … you see, I prepare the salads without washing my hands.

    Ha ha to you all!

  • Mahatma Koat

    I’m sure Puton is very much joking, he’s a jolly good fellow, we go much long way back as friends when we are woking at the Burning Ring resturant in Tooting Bec, he was never happier than when cleaning the khasi, good to be hearing from you again Puton!