You mean the old air raid shelter type thingy Matt?
The very same Andy - and Gibb identified them by the varied mutated flora that has thrived on the sh*t-fumes in there, down the generations.
I am still traumatised by a truly horrific visit I made in 1983 and I vowed never to return, but have found it necessary to make emergency pit-stops on several occasions since - all of them very very scary. The gloss art finish of the Autosport Le Mans Yearbook does not lend itself well to the job of 'finishing-up', as I found to my cost - and like your oppo, my shreddies had to make the ultimate sacrifice.
A nameless, but close associate of mine described a particularly horrowing experience in 2002 when the all-night champagne binge was rudely interupted by his burning desire to drop the kids off at the pool. He was so totally wankered that he fell asleep in this house of horrors, woke up half on, half off the throne and was dismayed to discover that there was no fluffy double-quilted Andrex, with wich to spruce-up. With suicidal resignation, he wiped his yin-yang with the piss-soaked late editions of Le Maine that lay scattered about the fetid floor. It was mildly surprising that he survived the weekend without contracting something life threatening.
When I see heart-rending footage of the ghastly horrors of WW2 death-camps, I'm reminded of those f**k*ng bogs.
Oh, the humanity........
