Flinging of the poop

I know that elections involve much poo. However, I wasn’t prepared for my worringly vivid dream last night. I was somehow responsible for a voting station/refugee centre, which had a porta-loo, only the one. It swelled up and began to wobble like a weebl. And then, eww… it got worse, fountains worse. Just… ew, no, I’ll leave it to your imagination.

It was vivid enough that, when back in the real world and getting up for a piss, I found myself in the bathroom, about to wash my mouth out with disinfectant, coz I’d been carrying, in my teeth, a car tyre that had been floating in the mire.

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