Belter
Today I neglected to pack my belt before I rode to work. When I got changed, it just didn't look or feel right without a belt... especially when I sat down.

Off to the nearby locksmiths I trotted, remembering that they sold belts. They had a weird, one-belt-fits-all arrangement - they punched the holes into the belt as you required. After I understood the concept, I rather liked it... you could get a belt with just the few holes that you needed. It was a pretty thick belt, and a little difficult to use the holes they'd made in it, but it did the trick.

That was until I tried to visit the bathroom, and realised I couldn't take the belt off.

I spent a good 10 minutes trying to pry that little fucking buckle out of its belt-hole in every way you can think of. It is rare I get all mad and HULK SMASH but I was ranging inside this cubicle, let me tell you. The damn fucker would simply not budge.

In the end I had to, er, hold it in - so to speak - and just took the tram home early instead of riding home. It took a pair of pliers and a screwdriver to free myself from the stupid thing.

In related news, I suddenly understand what would happen if Sony made a belt.