There was a time when I could go out with friends to enjoy a few beers, then have a few more beers, followed by several more beers and then spend an acceleratingly large amount of time in the toilets emptying my bladder. It was a simple procedure. You go in. You to your business. You wash your hands. You leave.

When did that end?

Today you can’t go to the toilet without some African asylum seeker offering to make you “Smell nice for the poonani” and handing you the paper towels. This really pisses me off. I can reach the paper towels perfectly well myself and I object to being made to feel like I should tip him for his assistance. And at what point did it become the norm to have a gallon of cheap aftershave sprayed in your face whilst being pressured into making a purchase? If I wanted that kind of treatment I’d spend my evenings on the ground floor of House of Fraser.

I was out on Friday night, and after using the facilities I was offered a paper towel after washing my hands by the guy who’d set up a small perfumery around the sink. (more…)

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