DESTROYING a pub single-handedly by mistake after a trip to the loo is quite some feat – but it’s one of Bill Potts’ many claims to the Backchat hall of fame.

The former Bucks Free Press columnist sent me a series of hilarious mishaps in response to my appeal for embarrassing anecdotes.

The best happened many years ago when Bill, then aged around 20, visited a watering hole in South London, where locals were encouraged to sing.

Bill was pushed by his mates on to the stage and did enormously well.

“After three numbers and, although I say it myself, a well-deserved ovation, I retreated to the toilet, after promising to return for an encore later,” he recalls.

“Out of sheer joy because things had gone so well, I let out a whoop of delight and spun round on my heels. Unfortunately, the tiled floor was wet – and I slipped.

“I reached out and grabbed the downpipe to the cistern to steady myself but continued falling, pulling the cistern away from its wall-moorings. As I hit the wet floor, bum first, the cistern pipe snapped and the porcelain tank crashed down on my head, soaking me with its rusty contents and splitting my head open.

The tank smashed on the floor.

“Meanwhile, a strong stream of water gushed from the joint.”

He was helped back into the bar, soaked from head to foot and with blood streaming down his face.

He recalled: “The flood had already preceded us. In the lounge bar, the musicians were already marooned on the stage, which had become a small island, and the Friday-night drinkers were beating a hasty retreat.”

As a result, the pub was shut for emergency repairs and Bill went to the nearest hospital for stitches.

“It was two weeks before we had the courage to return to offer our profound apologies only to be greeted by the MC’s: ‘Ah, Bill, perhaps you’d like to give us your version of Singing in the Rain.’ “My singing debut hadn’t exactly bought the house down but it had certainly closed it temporarily.”