The Shame Well

In 2004, I was starting university in Manchester and had moved into halls with 15 other first-year students. We all got on greats so big groups of us would hang out in one of the bedrooms each night. One evening, I popped to the toilet for a non-wee and returned to the room of six or so people who were guests of Mayor Dubliani. As I entered the room, I casually commented on the chafing received from that particular halls of residence toilet. That toilet don't have to dig in there. You know, on the side at thighs. It really is freezing. All the water in the well has iced over. So it's sort