Tape 153: I Dropped My Phone In A Chemical Toilet
Since I got back from Green Man Festival a couple of weeks ago, there is a story about me that my girlfriend, my sister, my mum, various other friends and God knows who else, are gleefully spreading around the place, all of them delighted at how stupid it makes me sound. The story is that I dropped my phone into a chemical toilet and then sifted through a trug of human excrement in order to get it back. I just know that this story is going to be mutated and mangled in the retelling, and it’s important for me to reclaim my reputation by telling my side of the story. I fear that without some act of course correction on my part, people will ascribe qualities to me which I feel do not represent my true self. “He’s a nasty, foul toilet boy,” they’ll say. “He’s so addicted to his phone that he will eat faecal matter in order to avoid being parted from it.” I know how rumours work, and I need to nip this one in the bud.
My difficulty in doing this is that the core essence of the story is true, and I cannot therefore refute it. But perhaps if I tell the story from my perspective, I can at least engender some empathy from the gossipping masses before I lose myself in their derision.
Also, “I Dropped My Phone In A Chemical Toilet” has the exact same syllables as “I Took A Trip On A Gemini Spaceship” but only two of the words are the same. Isn’t that fun?
So, picture the scene. It’s Sunday morning. I’m at Green Man Festival. My sister Poppy and my friend Rosie and I have decided to go and see Kind Hearts And Coronets at the cinema tent. The film is going to start in five minutes, but I need to do a poo (I’m sorry for this detail, it is an important part of the story). I mention that I need to go to the toilet, and Rosie points out that my artist wristband will get me into the special artists’ toilets backstage at the cinema tent. I nip backstage, find the toilet and go inside. As I sit down to [REDACTED FOR DECENCY], I get my phone out of my pocket to check the time, because I’m anxious about missing the start of the film. This is my Sliding Doors moment, when one of two possible futures settled on me and another passed me by. Here is a photo of the chemical toilet in question:
You’ll notice that on the left of the image is what looks like a smooth, flat platform, which I took to be a useful space for putting things. I have since been asked why I put my phone into this useful space for putting things rather than putting it back into my trouser pocket, but remember, I was doing a poo (I’m sorry to keep mentioning this, like I said, it is important) – my trousers were around my ankles. Faced with a choice between bending down and faffing about with my trousers to get my phone back into my pocket, and simply placing it down in the useful space for putting things, I made what I felt was the obvious choice.
I now know that this platform is not completely flat, but in fact slopes down and then goes under the toilet itself, so that anything placed upon it will slide into the vessel beneath. It has since been pointed out to me that this is probably so that any wayward piss from drunken festival-goers drains into the toilet rather than pooling on the useful platform for putting things on. But crucially, I did not know this at the time. There was no sign saying “Warning! Not A Useful Platform For Putting Things On!” Also, remember, these were the VIP artist toilets, so it never even occurred to me that the people using them would be drunkenly pissing all over the useful platform in a way that would require it to slope into the toilet bowl for drainage. These were toilets for the likes of Big Thief and Devendra Banhart. Surely all that would be happening in here would be a scene of serene contemplation as these artists prepared for their performances?
Anyway, my phone was now in the toilet. I lifted up the lid of the entire mechanism (“mechanism” is a generous word, I realise) to find a pool of blue disinfectant liquid, and some other stuff (I needn’t provide details). I knew roughly which area of the pool it would have fallen into, so delved my hand in, found it, and quickly withdrew it. My hand was now soaking wet with blue disinfectant liquid (and probably some other stuff), and I needed to clean and dry it urgently, so I had to put my phone down. I do regret placing it back on what I still thought was a useful platform for putting things on, as I simply watched it slide into the pool for a second time, and then had to get it out again.
Let me now deal with the FAQs that have arisen since this story leaked to the public.
Why did you even get your phone out in a festival toilet? I was checking the time because my watch had died because I was at a festival and hadn’t brought the charger for my watch, and was worried about missing the start of Kind Hearts And Coronets. And need I remind you, these were VIP artist toilets, different rules apply. You wouldn’t get cross with Arlo Parks for checking her phone on the toilet, would you?
Even if you thought it was a flat platform for putting things on, why did you want any of your belongings to make contact with any parts of the festival toilet? IT WAS A VIP ARTIST TOILET. DIFFERENT RULES APPLY. You wouldn’t get cross with Devendra Banhart for putting his phone, or keys, or wallet, on the useful platform for putting things on, would you? Or would you? Are you saying that if this newsletter was written by Devendra Banhart, you’d have exactly the same questions for him? No. I thought not. You’d probably be asking him about his impressive music career. I can’t believe I have to deal with these questions! Don’t you know who I am???
So your phone was covered in shit? No. The shit was largely collected in the middle of the pool, and my phone was over to the left. It was covered in blue disinfectant liquid, which meant that if anything, it came out cleaner than before it went in.
So you didn’t clean it? Yes of course I cleaned it, I turned it off and threw away the case it was in and then sprayed it with disinfectant from the hand sanitiser dispenser and rubbed it thoroughly with toilet roll. I did this for some time. My phone is not contaminated, and people don’t need to keep saying “Get that away from me, it’s covered in shit” every time I get it out.
And it works fine? No. It works fine in nearly all regards, except for when it comes to making or receiving phone calls, which is regrettably one of its primary uses. If I try to do that, the person on the other end of the line cannot hear me. After some experimentation, I have found that they can hear me if I put it on speakerphone. I am due an upgrade next year, so I only have to spend one year taking all my phone calls holding my phone out in front of my mouth like a contestant on The Apprentice, and I think that’s fine.
So you were covered in shit for the rest of the day? No I was not covered in shit. I washed my hands with disinfectant hand sanitiser very thoroughly for some time before going to the cinema tent, apologising to Rosie and Poppy for missing the start of the film and explaining that I had dropped my phone in a toilet and that was why I smelled like a toilet. I would like to apologise to the other people who were watching Kind Hearts And Coronets that day who I didn’t get to explain the situation to properly.
Did you see any good music that day? Yes, I saw King Creosote.
Having told this story, I fear it doesn’t clear my name as much as I hoped it would. Looking back, I worry it does serve as confirmation of stupidity, though I hope it also proves that what happened was an honest mistake, not the result of some sort of foul perversion.
It makes me sad that this has happened, because in recent years I’ve become aware of how easily I fall into a pattern of “bully/victim” in my social relationships. It must be something to do with my childhood, but I play the role of victim incredibly well, and often invite ridicule upon myself. I’ve started to recognise that this dynamic is unnecessary and not hugely beneficial to my self-esteem, and have started making extra effort to centre respect and kindness in my friendships and relationships, even those that enjoy an element of mockery. I like being teased and made fun of as much as the next man, and many of my closest friendships incorporate this dynamic in a way I really enjoy, but I have been actively working on making sure that they do so in a way that feels healthy.
It’s a shame, then, that in the middle of this self-improvement work reshaping my patterns of relating to others, I should do something that so obviously invites bullying as to drop my phone into a chemical toilet, then get it out and do it again. It’s hard to think of yourself as someone who deserves kindness and respect in your social relations when you’re pawing through a lake of shit going “Oh no, oh no, my phone!” for the second time in thirty seconds. It makes me wonder if you can ever escape your destiny. It makes me wonder what my destiny is. I’m off to have a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I must just remember to leave my phone outside the bathroom just in case.
A Cool New Thing In Comedy – As it’s September, London venues are of course filling up with great shows transferring from the Edinburgh Fringe. This month alone, you can enjoy the likes of Jin Hao Li; Amy Gledhill; Rosalie Minnitt; Chris Cantrill; Colin Hoult; Katie Norris; Rob Copland and Josh Glanc at Soho Theatre, and do you know what, I really think you should.
What’s Made Me Laugh The Most – I’ve been watching Freddie Flintoff’s Field Of Dreams (a lovely show) and Monty Panesar pops up as a special guest at one point, so I went and rewatched his legendary appearance on Celebrity Mastermind, and my God it never fails to make me cry with laughter. For three minutes, he is the purest clown and most beautiful idiot. Treat yourself if you’ve never seen it.
Book Of The Week – I’m reading Good For Nothing by Brandon Graham, which is about a guy who loses his job and then has to move out from his family home and live in a motel. It’s pretty depressing so far, but I’m assuming it’s one of those books where he finds a new zest for life and it all turns out ok. I hope so anyway, this guy just can’t catch a break.
Album Of The Week – Wild God by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Cave has made the odd decision to largely promote his new album by being quite outspoken about the cultural boycott on Israel and defending his right to perform there, which is quite the choice, and also totally unnecessary when the album he’s promoting is absolutely brilliant. He really did just need to go “There you go, listen to that.” Some people just love to talk about things, I guess!
Film Of The Week – Blink Twice, the directorial debut from Zoe Kravitz in which Channing Tatum plays a billionaire who’s up to no good on his private island. It’s really great, but deeply horrible. The premise becomes ever so slightly fantastical by the end in ways that it either didn’t need to be, or could’ve been fine-tuned so it made more sense, but it’s really well-made. Just be careful if you’re planning on going – there’s a trigger warning at the start and it does need to be there.
That’s all for this week! As ever, let me know what you thought, and if you wanted to send this newsletter to a friend, or encourage others to subscribe, I’d hugely appreciate it! Take care of yourselves until next time, and all the best,
Joz xx
PS If you value the Therapy Tapes and enjoy what they do, and want to support my work and enable me to keep writing and creating, you can make a one-off donation to my Ko-Fi account, and it’s very gratefully appreciated.
PPS Went to visit my family in Wales and whenever I do that I like to treat you guys to a picture of their dog. This is Bonnie slobbering at the prospect of a nice stick:
