Thursday, July 14, 2005

Sordid Bournemouth

I have mentioned before that our cafe toilets occasionally get some very strange visitors, and that, for that very reason, I never use them. I mean, they are rank as it is, but the kind of people they attract really are the last drop to chase me to the other end of the Oceanarium to follow nature's call.
I have mentioned junkie Stewart, haven't I?

Well, this time we had the ultimate.

Chavs.
Doing the one thing they shouldn't do.
Reproducing.

One of my workmates - who hasn't learned her lesson about the cafe loos yet - came out of the toilet and said to us, with a slightly disturbed look on her face, that two people were getting jiggy with it in one of the ladies' cubicles. Apparently she had just been in the cubicle next to it, and thought the walls were coming down.
So all went pretty wild from that. We all broke out laughing and said "Man, we gotta go see this."
The ladies' loo was crowded already when I got there. Bernie and Lauren were in there, knocking on the door, while an old lady behind me looked worried, asking if everything is alright and whether she could use the toilet. I said to her, "man, trust me, you really wanna use the other one!", and she wandered off with her ancient mates.
Sadly, I missed the main spectacle, but Lauren enlightened us later. She - of all people! (Lauren is this token good Christian girl, I always wonder whether she finds the seediness of Bournemouth corrupting in any way) - went in there, knocked on the cubicle door and asked: "Is there a male in there??"
The really hilarious thing was that in the next cubicle, there was a woman, putting her little son down for a trickle. She immediately felt addressed and, quite angrily, hollered back: "Yes, excuse me, that's my son!"
"Not you!" Lauren hollered back and continued knocking.
Finally, a girl answered, sounding quite guilty, saying that her boyfriend was in there with her, because he had to throw up, and she was just helping him. The boyfriend, eager to add some credibility to that statement, made some obliging retching sounds.
"Who are you kiddn!", Lauren said. "It's pretty damn obvious what you are doing!" (well, I'm sure she didn't say 'damn', but it was pretty close to that). Apparently Lauren had not just seen the girl's naked butt in the gap between floor and toilet door, but also heard the guy say "Pull harder!" - I don't even want to begin to think about what that could mean.
I mean, why does she have her trousers down when the guy needs to throw up???
Either way, eventually the girl came out and started heaping abuse on Lauren. But then Claire, our manager, came in and just said sharply: "Get out of my toilet!"
Unbelievable... when they came out, I looked at them... and they were just kids. 14-15 perhaps.
Anyways, it made our day. Catering is so depressing, the only thing that makes it worthwhile is the weird stories about people you get to collect over time.

Of course, this gossip was happily passed on to the deck chair lads and lifeguards, and that was when I heard even more stories, which, though they astonish my innocent mind, don't really surprise me, considering the seedy setting of this town.

One of the deck chair lads, Matt (he is the coolest: he's got one brown and one grey eye, it totally freaks you out to look at him) told me that one of the beach inspectors caught a woman last year sitting under the pier, offering blowjobs for 50p a go - and a queue of at least ten lads in front of her. Of course we all have the suspicion that the inspector was one of the prospective customers, but then, how rank or desperate has the woman got to be to only take 50p per blowjob? I mean, she could easily double the price without losing any customers, considering that the next best thrill you can get is a small cuppa coffee at our place at the rude price of 1.30 for not much more than a thimble-full. Or a hop on the bouncy castle with a bunch of snotty brats for a quid or so, and who honestly wants THAT? (Except perhaps Michael Jackson.)

The lifeguards told us that the day we caught the chavs, they caught a couple down at the beach shagging like rabbits - at 3pm. Which is pretty nu-uh, considering that there are still lots of kids around and stuff. We have the suspicion that it could have been the chavs who tried to finish off what they couldn't in our toilet.

We told Lara, one of my workmates, about this the next day, and she laughed her ass off... and then told us a further story. She works in this chiropractor clinic as an intern, and as she looked out the window one day, she saw a car in the parking lot, which belonged to a woman who was just getting treatment. And in the car was her 15-year-old son, waiting for her, and...um... let's say... he gave himself some treatment, too. Poor lad, apparently he was looking around constantly for fear of getting caught. The only place he forgot to check was up, where, behind a window, stood a bunch of interns, clapping and cheering him on.

But of course it doesn't stop there. The other day I was down at the beach, blagging free coffee at work. My mate Ange had her tea break, so we went outside to the beach and just observed people. That's the biggest fun down there. A sociologist would have a field day.
Anyways, we were looking around for potential weirdos and spotted this couple making out on a blanket. And when I say 'making out', I mean 'get a room!' making out. Holy Cow.
So we stood there, giggling and commenting and, when the girl decided to straddle the guy, semi-cheerleading them. Poor them, they were completely oblivious to their environment.
Until a few seconds later. Suddenly the girl got up and pulled the guy to his feet... and sporting in his trousers was an impressive tent.
Ange and I collapsed with laughter.
So you could tell, even from a distance, they frantically tried to find a quick and efficient way to alleviate this embarrassment.
But doing it that way was kinda out of the question.
So the girl looked around for a second, somewhat helpless... but since Pauly the Penis had claimed the whole blood supply, he came up with an idea immediately and pointed towards the sea.
So the guy hugged the girl from behind, hiding his disgrace behind the girl's bottom (I'm sure she enjoyed that!), and waddled with her, in a strange version of the three-legged race (aaah, doesn't that put a whole new meaning to it?) , towards the water.
The funny thing is that it was so obvious what they were trying to hide. And the cold water did not much to help the situation. Pauly stood proud as ever.
At that point the couple gave up, I guess, and went on making out, while we returned to the cafe, laughing and passing on the glorious news...

This is Bournemouth for ya. I am amazed it hasn't rained sulfur yet.