I am very badly burnt. OK, maybe that’s an exaggeration, I am slightly scalded. Went to The Bell pub this evening, a venue which although almost 3 miles away from my flat is fast becoming my local watering hole.

After a couple of pints nature called and it was time to use the facilities. Once I had relived myself it was time to wash my hands, I know a lot of people don’t bother, especially in pubs but I have been brought up properly.

I dispensed soap onto hands, looked for tap. There as no handle for it. The tap was one of these new, modern ones with a sensor meaning all you need to do is stick your hands underneath to release water. I did that, fuck me it was hot! Due to the absence of tap handle there was no temperature control!

This presented a major dilemma. My hands were covered in sticky soap which was fast drying out my soft, youth-like skin and causing severe discomfort. I had to get the soap off, but what with? I was all out of piss and didn’t fancy rinsing my hands off in the toilet bowl, especially as there were the remains of a Mr. Hankey floating on the surface. I had no choice. I had to take the pain and wash my hands with very hot water.

I stuck my right hand under the tap. It burnt. I could only keep it under for a few seconds. I quickly pulled away my throbbing, red, soap lathered hand in agony and thrust my left hand under the tap. The pain was just as bad and that hand had to be removed also.

This was getting ridiculous, I couldn’t stay in this toilet forever, besides which I had a pint waiting and a taxi coming for me. I grit my teeth and stuck both my hands under the blistering water dispenser, sweat beads leaking from my brow, tears in my eyes. After seconds which seemed like hours it was all over. My hands, red and sore were free of soap. It was over.