There was a leak or summat.
A manhole in the alley behind the cinema started leaking water which ran down to the street. We decided it was coming from the pub next door and somebody went and had a word.
Not much got done. The water still ran, but started leaving a white flaky residue in its wake.
I was having a cigarette when I saw some little clumps of white floating by in the stream.
It was toilet paper.
When I walked back up the alley, I saw water bubbling up from under the manhole cover, squeezing its self through cracks and gaps; carrying soggy hunks of shitty bog-roll.
You remember that bit in "Ghostbusters II" when the slime starts to rise and comes oozing out of grids and manholes and stuff? That's kinda how this is.
One of the managers told the pub-people again. They said they'd get it sorted.
There's fecal matter now. Little jobbies making a break for freedom; Steve McQueening their way out of the sewer and bombing for the street. Basically; there's shit running down the alleyway behind the cinema. Not a lot but - on an uncomfortably hot summer's day - a little raw sewage goes a long way.
A plumber shows up. Sorts it out. Seems to just brush the shit around a bit in the alley so you still have to watch where you're walking.
I'm out having another cigarette after they've finished up. The water has already started running again. Down the alley, out on to the cobbles and on down the hill.
A family with a couple of small children amble up the hill. The kids splash their way through the stream. Then one does a handstand.
I wonder if I should say anything: "Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but your child is currently ankle-deep in floaters and I would advise against any further horseplay in this area unless you want them to contract dysentery".
I want to find this plumber and tell him he hasn't fixed shit.