Trowell Services

I am on my way home after setting up cameras in Long Eaton near Nottingham. The fuel gauge hovers tantalisingly between just-enough-to-get-me-home and not-quite-enough. Trowell Services is a mile away and I resolve to stop as I also need to pay the loos a visit.

I have been avoiding Trowell Services since a peculiar incident which took place there a couple of years ago. It was around 3 a.m. when I went in and the station was deserted, a grotesque Mary Celeste with inedible food and unpalatable prices. That day I could have served myself with the most expensive revolting food money can buy for free as the place looked literally abandoned. “No doubt asleep on the floor behind the counter”, I reasoned to myself as I made my way to the toilets.

Standing facing the urinals, there was a deathly silence broken by a sudden shuffling sound. I turned and looked towards the cubicles. All doors were open apart from the one furthest away. My gaze automatically dropped to the gap under the cubicles and there came that shuffling sound again followed by a mop of blond frizzy hair sliding under the partition into the neighbouring cubicle. I stood motionless for a second as the mop then, exorcist-like, slowly rotated to look me directly in the eyes. Had I not been weeing already, it is quite probable I would have done so at this point. Even so, as I ran from the toilets, I didn’t care whether or not I had quite finished what I had gone in to do.

Now facing the same urinal I did that night, I glance over my left shoulder at the cubicle once again, and it then becomes clear I must have imagined the whole scene: the partition gaps are not wide enough to fit a head through it. Could I really have been hallucinating?

Presently at the pump, I hold the trigger until it clicks to signify the tank is full. I thrash it about to clear any fuel left in the nozzle and as I draw it out a stream of diesel dribbles down my expensive Diesel jeans. I look up and notice I am being observed by a woman with blonde frizzy hair who is using the other side of my pump. She smiles half amused, half flirting.

“No matter how much you shake it, some always ends up down your trousers”, I say.

“Your flies are open”, she says.


42 Responses

  1. Marcos, that was hilarious!
    I have a mental image of you standing right in the middle of a puddle, shaking like a leaf.
    I shall make sure I avoid those services between the hours of 0 and 24.
    Definitely a comedy script!

  2. edvard, you crack enidd up! was the woman you spoke to perhaps the owner of the mop of blond frizzy hair you saw crawling under the cubicles? it seems that she is interested in gentlemen’s, er, pump nozzles.

  3. Absolutely hilarious! PoTW’d. Again.


    (sorry I know it is rude to shout but…..)


    Don’t you dare give up entertaining me like this 🙂


  5. ha ha haaaaaaaaaa – although I was a bit scared at the first bit

  6. laughing out loud at work is never a good idea, especially since i’ve just had the audacity to ask for more holiday and a pay rise. but how could i not do exactly that, with that brilliant tale so brilliantly told?

  7. We have now entered the Twilight zone.

  8. Not just PotW (I would have if Mr X hadn’t), I think this could be a serious contender for Most Perfect Blog Post Ever. It’s clever, it’s funny, it’s well-written, it’s slightly surreal. What more could anyone ask?

  9. Edvard – you are a genius! You have me so wrapped up in your posts. They just get better and better.

  10. 🙂

    I can’t get past food being inedible –
    should never be so.


  11. I’m now hiding behind the sofa. I hope you’re happy.

  12. Brilliant… but… sooo scarey!!

  13. Knowing Trowell Services and the area, that does not surprise me.

    Funny as fuck though…

  14. Funny? I don’t get funny (but remember the stunningly average IQ problem). I get pee my pants reading it spooky as hell.
    Great piece, Evaard!

  15. Brilliant! Clicked on you from on a comment on the Blagueur’s blog, this is the first post I’ve read and you’re going straight on my Favourites list. Hopefully the rest isn’t as funny though, as I think I may give the reading-blogs-whilst-at-work game away if so…

  16. “Your flies are open,” she says.

    What happened next?

  17. dumdad: hello and welcome! what happened next? well, you know, we got chatting, one thing led to another and next thing you know we have 3 children, 2 dogs and a budgerigar.

  18. Badgerigar? Is that a cross between a badger and budgie?

  19. dumdad: that’s the one… hehe

  20. You’ve changed your original comment (I can’t do that on blogger, I think) so now my comment looks weird! Still, he who has the last laugh…..

  21. dumdad: lol yes, that’s why I recommend wordpress instead. 😉

  22. I’m sure you’re right about wordpress but I can’t be blogged to change at the moment.

    But if you can change each and every post, of course, it all makes sense now.

    “Wonderful post, Edvard, you’re brilliant, nay a genius, all other blogs fade into insignificance beside yours, you’re the funniest man since Ricky Gervais . . .”

  23. dumdad: you got it. in every one of those comments people are saying stuff like “you’re shit” and “call yourself a writer? my comatosed aunt could do better than that”, etc. so can you blame me for altering it a little?

  24. Great reply – it made me and my son Brainbox (who’s just this minute joined me) laugh out loud.

    P.S. Brainbox thinks your avatar is très cool.

  25. dumdad and brainbox (sounds rather ominous): merci.

  26. Open flies, swift zipping up while ogling the woman, big ouch!

  27. […] 3. Edvard Moonke at Trowell Services […]

  28. My hair has gotten blonder and frizzier recently. Hmmm. ????

  29. clarissa: meet you at trowell services then!

  30. PotW… you wuz robbed… by me, ‘cos I nominated The Waiter… sorry Mr Moonke (I’m sure you would have won otherwise)

  31. oh do be serious, mrs cyclamen. it’s very kind of you to say so, but I don’t think I’d have won even if the waiter had never ranted in his life. plus, what would be the fun of winning if a better post hadn’t been nominated?

  32. Sadly (or gladly?) I don’t even know where it is!

  33. clarrissa: a pity. although I generally prefer brunettes, I have an inexplicable weakness for frizzy blondes.

  34. I am not witholding information but, if I had been in a band many years ago, and if I had played a gig in Derby and was on my way back, and if I had gone into Trowell Services on the way back, I may have been in a cubicle (possibly not on my own).

    But obviously, I wouldn’t do that sort of thing…

  35. goth: it could be the ghost of one of your groupies that haunts the toilets…

  36. I have filled my car up many times at that service station but never been fortunate enough to see someones dinkle at the same time. Lol

  37. A Groupie Ghost – ha, far more rock than a Group Hug

  38. goth: don’t tell me you used to have group ‘hugs’ in the toilets at trowell services too…

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