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.
“Here you go man”, said Toilet Man.
“It’s OK, I’ll use the hand-dryer, it’s more hygenic and kills less trees” I reply.
“It’s not working, here have a towel, you wanna smell good?”
“It’s fine, someone has just turned it off a the plug, look.”
I pointed at the plug a few feet above the dryer which had conveniently been switched off. He did not appreciate my attempts to turn it back on.
“Leave it maan, it’s too hot in here wit dem goin’ all night.”
“I don’t care. They’re on the wall for a reason. I’m in here for two minutes tops. If it’s too hot, you can leave.”
He admitted defeat to my superior argument, though I suspect the fact I only whispered it may have hindered his comprehension. He then tried to sell me a lollypop. For a pound. I’ve only recently been ripped off for confectionery so I was wise to his ploy.
With dry hands, and sans lollypop, I left the bathroom. To save him further embarrassment I then avoided eye contact for each subsequent visit as the strong continental lager I was consuming took it’s toll. We had no reason to converse further as he didn’t stock Blue Stratos.
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Matt · April 3, 2006 at 10:13 am
The ones i see always seem to have a little routine worked out and hilarious catchphrases, as if I’m going to say “fuck me – this is so funny I’ve pissed all over my hands! Here’s a quid to spray them with some soap.” Tossbags.
NF Girl · April 3, 2006 at 10:26 am
I have no idea of the etiquette in those situations, and never carry change.
It stresses me out. Grrr..
Author comment by Mr Angry · April 3, 2006 at 10:32 am
Matt – This guy sang, “Smell good for the Poonani” like it’s a song. A really bad song. With rubbish lyrics.
NF – You get these blokes in the ladies?!
NF Girl · April 3, 2006 at 12:01 pm
Sure do. Or maybe they are women. Hard to tell.
mighty wright · April 3, 2006 at 3:43 pm
i have also never understood why one would want a lollipop when one has had copious amounts of Lager? whats a lollipop got to do with it?
Davo · April 3, 2006 at 3:53 pm
I am confused.
Was this guy an employee of the pub you were in, or had he simply wandered into toilet and set up shop?
This sort of thing is simply not on. Anything more than a curt nod of acknowledgement in a public convenience is an invitation for all sorts of beastliness.
Admin comment by Mr Angry · April 3, 2006 at 4:08 pm
Mighty Wright – good point, there should be no sucking in the mens toilets without a female present.
Davo – I doubt he was an employee, his ‘uniform’ reminded me of a hospital orderly. It’s possible he just wandered in off the street I suppose…
Ranting Dullard · April 3, 2006 at 6:14 pm
After ‘breaking the seal’ (ie spending more time in the bogs than in the bar) I would simply urinate on his shoes.
Anyone approaches me in the bogs and they have soggy hush puppies.
Admin comment by Mr Angry · April 4, 2006 at 8:07 am
RD – He’d cunningly positioned himself in such way that you only passed him once your bladder was empty.
I think he may have done this before.