The Toilet of Doom [antikvár]

Ever had the feeling your life's been flushed dov^n the toilet? I have. And it wasn't just a feeling. I knew something was wrong the moment I woke up that Sunday morning, but if I'd had the faintest idea how wrong I would have jumped straight out of the window on to my mother's favourite rose bush and ended it there and then. Before I get to the Big Flush, though, I'd better fill you in on how it all started. It was the previous Friday - another day I woke up feeling something wasn't quite right. This time it was my nose. I rolled out of bed and plodded to the bathroom with dread in my heart. The mirror over the basin told me everything I didn't need to know. There was a lump on my hooter the size of a satellite dish. 'Oh terrific,' I said, imagining the day's pathetic jokes at my expense. I left the bathroom. Left it tripped over something landed nose-first in a big potted plant on the landing. The day was not starting well.