A friend of mine was once at a party out in the country.
A few beers into the evening he felt the need to pee and made his way to the toilet. A huge queue snaked down the stairs, so thinking he couldn’t wait he popped outside.
The house faced onto a road, which, given the time of night seemed rather busy so he walked along a short way hoping to find a sheltered spot to relieve himself.
He stopped by a tree only for the lights of a car to sweep across him. He walked a little further before coming to a low wall. Thinking this was an ideal place to discretely excrete he hopped over the wall.
It was at this point that he discovered he was standing on a bridge.
He fell some distance into a small river, with presumably, the desire to urinate relieved rather sooner than anticipated.
The story was confirmed to be true by a witness from the party, who answered the door that night to a very wet, and rather sheepish fellow.