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Inconvenient Conveniences.


For the past few days I’ve been suffering from stomach pains – and this afternoon they’d become uncomfortable enough (or at least I’d become suitably paranoid about them) that I thought it might be best to see a doctor.

Turning to Google was my first mistake. Looking up my symptoms only made me more worried – and rather than spend the rest of the evening pressing my stomach and fearing the worst, I thought I’d grasp the nettle, take the bull by the horns, pad this paragraph out with clichés and seek advice from something worthier than a search engine.

It turns out that it’s most likely something muscular. I also think I can pinpoint what exacerbated it – and sadly, it’s toilet-related. Or more specifically: toilet cubicle-related.

Yesterday I had a couple of castings in London – and before the first one, I popped into a nice little coffee shop just off Carnaby Street, so I could have a quick once-over of the script. Whilst there I had a sudden, rather urgent call of nature – but unfortunately, the toilet cubicle had no lock. I had no choice but to use the facilities – and maintaining my dignity meant striking poses worthy of a contortionist. 

Trust me to injure myself just to keep a door shut.

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