One of my comrades, named Veter (his surname is Vetrov), did a small need in the public toilet and in the process lost balance (slid on the wet floor). Instead of letting go of the farm and relying on the wall, he, a man of culture, "who I could have swept it all, met that wall with his nose and broke it, and then the jaw of the pissuar. Friends now stebut on the way of the song of the DDT "And what the wind, and to this will answer, don't go past, and broke the fuck" face"