Recently I've had the following lyric from The Specials stuck in my head:

Wish I had lipstick on my shirt, instead of piss stains on my shoes

It's because I really do have piss-stains on my shoes.

At least, I assume it's piss; perhaps the cause was actually an extremely localised shower of acid rain on my shoes while I wasn't looking. Anyway, the stains won't come out, no matter how hard I close my eyes and wish them away. I tried praying to Jesus but he specialises in turning water into wine; turning urine stains into nice shoes is apparently not his forté.

I've never had this problem before. I mean, sure I've sprayed my feet with my own urine before (sometimes I even get my legs, and once I sprayed the entire bathroom with piss when I tried to urinate with an erection). But never have I had a pair of shoes that change colour in the presence of piss with the scientific reliability of a pH test strip or a pregnancy test. I'll admit I have a certain lack of eye to urine-steam co-ordination, but these shoes seem determined to humiliate me for it.

I now have three options:

1. Keep wearing them and hope no-one notices. I can limit my outside activities to dimly-lit bars and laser-tag, rummaging through dumpsters on occasion to find food.
2. Throw them off the balcony, with the risk of hitting an innocent bystander over the head
3. Take the time to carefully piss on every part of the shoes, thereby staining them entirely, and hope that no-one would ever suspect they were originally light blue and didn't smell of piss.

In the meantime I'm going to go everywhere in just my socks, taking advantage of my slippery soles by sliding around on floors like a ten-year-old.