Where are my acquaintances?

I still remember this buck-toothed guy called Shawn.
He was from Glassgow, the house, not part of the United Kingdom, in case you forgot or you're totally oblivious.
We played a friendly game in the toilet, I only met him in the toilet it seemed.
Whoever walked into the toilet and saw the other at the urinal, he would stadle up next to him a respectable one urinal away. Then it would start.
'Stupid Shawn.'
'Stupid Ernest.'
'Stupid Shawn.'
'Stupid Ernest.'
'Stupid Shawn.'
The we shared a laugh and walked out of the toilet. The guy with the last line (and usually first to finish) would win and the looser graciously accepting defeat by continuing to stare down into the abyss below his crotch, as most guys do when they are alone. Mind you, it is the abyss and not the crotch we're staring into/at.
Strangely, I never bumped into him outside of the toilets. He was a doubtful figment of immagination then and even now.
Where are you Stupid Shawn?