Some times a second lasts an hour.

When I was young I frequently smashed windows whilst playing football in the street. Time stops once the ball leaves your foot and travels, effortlessly towards the pane of glass. Your heart climbs into the roof of your mouth and you can't move. You just stare.

Today, time stopped. In the bathroom. The dog was going buck wild at the door and I'd just flushed the toilet. Matt was banging on the window.

"Pete? You in there buddy?" He shouts, holding a Mcdonalds lunch in his hand.

"One minute dude. Just in the toilet!" I shout, my eyes fixed firmly on the rising water level.

There was nothing I could do. I felt helpless. There is a plunger next to the seat, but I didn't have the ability to grab it. I just stood, praying for the water not to spill over the bowl. It didn't. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, double checked the bowl and went out to let Matt in.

I told him what had happened as he lay down our dinner, and he smiled. We talked about where I was going next, and what his day at work had been like. All I could think of was that evil shit lurking in the bowl.

Matt finished up and left to head back to work. I rushed into the toilet.

"Right you little cunt" I said pointing at my submerged food-child.

I grabbed the plunger and went to work. It took me some time, but eventually it all swam away. I felt relieved. There is nothing worse than blocking someone else's toilet.

I'd left no mess and felt proud of myself, so I congratulated myself with a cigarette.

I've noticed that American plumbing seems weaker than in Europe. In light of this, from today onwards, I'm going to shit in three stages. Only in the places I care about though.