Missions at the Urinal

Yesterday I was at the pub watching the football, and grog doing as grog does, I found myself at the urinal.

Whilst I was relieving myself, a man began to converse with me.

For those unfamiliar with the concept (such as those unfortunate individuals bereft of a Y chromosome), the urinal conversation is a strange phenomenon. Whilst many men flee into the Cubicle of Shame to avoid the spectre of Stage Fright, the trough provides a forum for a certain, limited, form of discourse.

This mainly runs along the lines of ;

"Looks like you've had a few mate!"

"Makin' room for some more eh?"

etc.

This man however, was a different beast. The barman later informed me he was with the "Weekend Detention Christmas Party".

Our conversation went as follows:

"How are ya?"

"alright", I replied. "You?"

"I'm great. Now tell me. What is your mission in life?"

"Uh, I haven't really thought it through"

"Now, do you want to be a drug addict, an alcoholic, or do you want to work?"

"I think I want to work"

"Good!"

I shook, and then departed.