I opened my window and shook the last remnants of coffee from the cup onto the grass verge. As I closed the window I noticed that Boiler Suit Man had disappeared, either into his car or into the block of flats. I slowly pulled down my flies as I scanned the area for inquisitives. I placed the cup at an angle and positioned my Douglas on its lip. I pushed out a stream which immediately warmed the surface of the cup in my hand. I flicked my eyes between scoping for any onlookers and checking the fullness of the cup. Because the cup was at an angle it filled more quickly than I had expected. I altered the angle so that it was more upright but in doing so had to thrust my hips and arse upwards so that my Douglas was still over the lip of the cup. I guessed that I was only halfway through the piss.

Suddenly there was a knock on my window. I sat back into the squab of the seat and held the cup over my Douglas. The stream continued for a few more seconds, soaking the front of my trousers. Through the window I could see a swathe of French blue boiler suit cotton. It’s Boiler Suit Man. I wound down the window, flustered and with a sweat on over what he might have seen.

‘Hi there,’ I said, with the most handsome smile I could muster.

‘Can I help you, mate? The parking here is actually for residents only.’ He said it in a friendly enough manner but with a hint of austerity.

My sweat subsided slightly; he obviously hadn’t seen what I was up to.

‘Yeah, I know, I’m just looking for someone who lives on the estate. Not sure of their address.’

He bent down and placed his head in the centre of the window frame.

‘Who is it you’re looking for? Or are you just up to no good?’

‘It’s just a girl I met in the pub. She left her book behind and I want to return it to her.’

I became acutely aware of the scent of asparagus and peas rising up from my crotch. I saw him glance down in that direction and raise an eyebrow.

‘Is that a stock cube drink you’re having?’ he enquired. ‘You don’t see many people drinking that these days. I used to love one, especially on a Saturday afternoon when the wrestling was on ITV.’

He clearly hadn’t spotted the dampness around my flies.

‘Yeah, I know what you mean – a nice meaty hit to warm you up on the sofa. No, it’s just tea, one of them herbal ones – meant to be good for your guts.’

‘I see you take it without milk. Lot of that about these days. Can’t stand it without milk, makes me fucked off.’